The walls were covered with eighteenth-century oil paintings in gilt wooden frames, and a huge crystal chandelier hung high overhead. Safra wasn’t there, which was not surprising. I’d learned by then that standard billionaire etiquette was for guests to arrive, get settled, and be ready to start the meeting before the billionaire arrived so as not to waste his time. Since Beny was lower in the billionaire pecking order, he was subjected to this treatment as well.
Fifteen minutes later Safra entered. We stood to greet him.
Safra was a short, bald man with a pudgy face, rosy cheeks, and a warm smile. “Hello, Mr. Browder,” he said, speaking with a thick Middle Eastern accent. “Please, sit.”
I had never seen Safra before, even in pictures, and he looked nothing like the square-jawed, archetypal Master of the Universe that most people might have imagined. He was dressed casually in a pair of tan trousers and an elegant, handmade Italian shirt with no tie.The Chips and Winthrops of the world were playing dress-up in their pressed suits, red suspenders, and Rolexes. None of that stuff mattered to a man like Safra. He was the real deal.
Beny gave a short preamble and then I took Safra through my standard presentation. He had a short attention span, and every five minutes or so he would either take a call or make one that was completely unrelated to the topic at hand. By the end of our meeting, I had been interrupted so many times that I wasn’t sure if he had taken in any information.
When I was done, Safra rose, indicating that the meeting was over. He thanked me for my time and bid me farewell. That was it.
One of Safra’s assistants called a taxi to take me back to the airport, and as I waited in the gravel driveway, Beny said, “I thought that went well.”
“Really? I didn’t.”
“I know Edmond. That went well,” Beny said reassuringly.
The taxi pulled up; I got in and went home.
The following Friday was the day of the Salomon task force meeting. I went to work and made my way directly to the boardroom. I was surprised that they had booked such a large space. As 10:00 a.m. approached, the room began to fill and within a quarter of an hour forty-five people had arrived. Most I had never seen before. There were senior managing directors, managing directors, directors, senior vice presidents—and me. As the discussion got under way, a big argument broke out about who was going to get the economic credit for this new Russian business. It was like watching a cage fight, and it was impressive to see how people with absolutely nothing to do with this new business in Russia could make such persuasive arguments for why they were entitled to a share of any future earnings. I had no idea who would win this fight, but I was absolutely sure who would lose it, and that was me.
The meeting was so upsetting that I couldn’t sleep properly for several nights. I hadn’t made five times my salary for the firm, I hadmade five hundred times my salary, and I wasn’t going to let some empty-suited corporate hacks steal this business away from me.
I made my decision. The Monday after the meeting took place I went to work, sucked up my gut, walked into the head of sales and trading’s corner office, and quit. I told him I was going to Moscow to start my own investment firm.
I would call it Hermitage Capital.
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1 GUM was a major department store like Macy’s.
2 The founder of Tiger Management Corp., one of the industry’s most successful hedge funds.
3 The founder of Templeton Asset Management, one of the largest mutual fund companies in the world.
4 If this sounds notable, there were probably more vice presidents than secretaries at Salomon.
8
Greenacres
While I was certain that leaving Salomon was the right thing to do, I couldn’t help but worry that life on the outside would be much tougher. Would doors open for me without my Salomon Brothers’ business card? Would people take me
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