I am a trader...and a gambling addict
Thu Mar 5 2009
- I have a live-in boyfriend...and another guy on the side
- I'm a manly man...but I love pedicures
- I'm an HR associate...and a circus clown
- I am a father, husband and government employee...and the vice president of a nudist club
- I'm a closeted banker by day...and a gay activist by night
- I am a trader...and a gambling addict
- Whatever happened to...
- Why do we spill our secrets?
- How do people get like this?!?
I guess my gambling kick started when I got my first bookie in college. Or maybe it was when I would go to the racetrack as a young kid to bet on the ponies. When I moved to New York three years ago, the thought of making and losing millions daily as a trader for an investment bank seemed pretty thrilling. And because I’d be risking someone else’s dime, it was the best of both worlds: I’d experience the rush without the potential financial and emotional stress. Unfortunately, for a gambling addict, that just doesn’t cut it.
So a friend from work told me about an underground poker club. At first I was resistant, but I knew I was better than he was and, frankly, I just couldn’t take his bragging about how much he was “killing” the game. There’s not much stigma attached to gambling among traders given that what we do every day amounts to taking calculated risks.
Finally, I showed up to a nondescript office building in the asshole of Chelsea. It was your normal midstakes poker game: younger Wall Street types, scummy hustlers from Brooklyn, older Wall Street types who seemed to consistently lose thousands of dollars while high on pills that I’d never heard of. The money was good—thousands of dollars could be made in a session. But a cold streak left me down a couple thousand, and I stopped going for a while.Two months after I stopped going, I heard the place got busted. Shortly after that I read a story about a stick-up at a game in the Flatiron where a guy dropped a sawed-off shotgun and “accidentally” shot a player in the abdomen. He bled to death.
I doubt I’ll ever play in an NYC club again. Carrying around thousands of dollars while fearing that you’ll get mugged inside and outside of the club just isn’t worth it. Sports gambling for thousands of dollars at a clip will have to hold me over.
I am a...
Manly man/pedicure fan | HR associate/circus clown | Government employee/nudist
Banker/gay activist | Ad exec/pro wrestler
Muslim/raging alcoholic | Trader/gambling addict
My secret life 09 >>
Look around you. New Yorkers are just not who you think they are.