Rules may change but the game stays the same
Here was happiness. The sun beating down. The yacht gently bobbing on the waves. Good food. Great wine. Bliss. Well...nearly.
There's certainly no such thing as a free lunch and in this case the cost was having to spend a couple of hours in Ted's company. Needless to say, I don't mind enjoying the trimmings of Ted's patronage – his taste in food and drink is deliciously expensive and delivered in quantities which pay tribute to his vast bulk. Luckily, Ted's yacht is large enough to stand the strain and is invariably moored off locations that lesser mortals like myself can usually only dream of visiting.
Unfortunately, Ted is a bore. He's also a long-standing family friend so boredom must be revisited every once in a while. His life has revolved so heavily around the pursuit of money-making that he finds it hard to comprehend other interests. Mention the delights of, say, a walk in the countryside and his brow will furrow, to be followed by a little, nervous cough. Expenditure of energy without a monetary goal is unknown territory for Ted. He is lost at the thought of it. Sometimes in such a situation you might get a flicker of recognition from him of something in the dim, distant past. But then it is gone.
No, Ted talks business. Nothing else. Today, despite my best efforts to lead conversation onto the finer things in life – just for a minute or so – Ted had a bee in his bonnet about insider dealing.
'Now I've got these smart-arse youngsters telling me that I can't even go out for lunch with a few friends and give them a few hints about what we've got planned,' he bemoaned through a mouthful of crab. 'It's outrageous. I mean who's company is it?'
This should have been my cue to politely remind Ted that it certainly wasn't his company, pointing out that his healthy bank account was largely thanks to cash he received on flotation in return for selling part of his stake. But bitter experience dictated that such logic would not wash with Ted. In fact, it would only prolong the discussion without any change to his conclusion: it was all his company and his company it would stay.
It turned out that Ted had got into 'trouble' after being a little too free with corporate information over a liquid lunch with his friend, Ben. Of course, there was nothing new in this behavior. Ted had been telling Ben all his company's secrets for years and Ben had done very nicely out of it. The difference was that this time round Ted had made the mistake of inviting along his new house broker 'chum', Anthony, as well. And Anthony – being somewhat younger, as Ted put it – had taken a rather dim view of the nature of the conversation.
'Next thing I know I'm getting a lecture from my own lawyer on what I can and cannot say,' fumed Ted as he signalled that it was time to break open a bottle of St Emilion, ignoring the fact that I was still struggling with my crab. 'It's okay for our financial PR guys to give their journo friends a nudge in the right direction or drop them an exclusive on a Friday for a bit of returned favor. Everyone turns a blind eye to that sort of behavior but me doing Ben a bit of a favor is way off course.'
I could see his point. 'At the end of the day, these institutional fund manager chappies aren't going to be affected by Ben buying or selling at a little bit of an advantage,' Ted continued. 'It's not as if he's going to move the stock is it?'
Again, I had to agree – but that wasn't the point and enough was enough. 'Ted, can't you see that it's not about whether it's okay for Ben or not,' I ventured. 'In any case, it's not okay. It's a matter of principle. You've got responsibilities as a director to treat all shareholders equally. And, anyway, it's not your company. You made your money...'
But Ted wasn't listening. He'd lost interest in the 'conversation' as soon as I opened my mouth and was rebuking his waiter for failing to bring the wine quickly enough.
I gave up. Ted was old school and could never understand that things worked differently now. Actually, Ted probably wasn't so different from the 'new school', he just conducted his affairs in a more brazen fashion. And that suited me just fine, I thought, as I sunk a few good-sized gulps of the newly-arrived claret. That suited me just fine.