The advantage of per share over ticket charge was reinforced shortly after 10am this morning when, not wanting to cause a volume spike, I liquidated my long position of 1,000 PSFT in 5 lots of 200 shares, on the coattails of the shortlived ISM euphoria. As soon as CNBC's Steve Liesman went into a rant about his puzzlement at the market's non-reaction to all the recent, great economic numbers, I was out like Flint. Only the fear, perhaps unwarranted, of my generating a repeat NITE-like software glitch together with the inevitable SEC investigation, prevented me from banging the short hotkey. A quick glance at the intraday chart highlights the opportunity cost foregone by my hyper-caution, yet puts into perspective my respect for the SEC and my serious lack of friends in high places. Besides which, I didn't want to get into any more trades - I had a lunch date at 12.
Wanting to look respectably stylish, I had gone to the Men's Wearhouse yesterday where I was outfitted from top to toe. I find their cash return policy very generous so I had every intention of eating carefully. The E train brought me into midtown Manhattan, where I rendezvoused with a limo driver friend who owed me a favor or two. He drove me the 2 blocks to one of New York's finest dining establishments and I thought I could hear the fading sounds of his cursing just seconds after he had formally deposited me and was driving off into the heavy Fifth Avenue traffic. I still can't fathom why he wasn't prepared to wait outside like the other drivers there. As the Maitre d' directed me to my table, I nearly disjointed my middle finger when I feigned an attempt to reach for my wallet in the still unstitched blazer pocket. My anguished scream of pain largely went unnoticed and before long I was being introduced to the CEO of HPQ, Carleton Fiorina. Both she and Gretchen were...
My inherent modesty combined with a healthy respect for the privacy of others (possible lawsuit) prevents me from continuing in detail. Suffice it to say that the Compx wasn't the only thing spiking at 3:30pm.
Wanting to look respectably stylish, I had gone to the Men's Wearhouse yesterday where I was outfitted from top to toe. I find their cash return policy very generous so I had every intention of eating carefully. The E train brought me into midtown Manhattan, where I rendezvoused with a limo driver friend who owed me a favor or two. He drove me the 2 blocks to one of New York's finest dining establishments and I thought I could hear the fading sounds of his cursing just seconds after he had formally deposited me and was driving off into the heavy Fifth Avenue traffic. I still can't fathom why he wasn't prepared to wait outside like the other drivers there. As the Maitre d' directed me to my table, I nearly disjointed my middle finger when I feigned an attempt to reach for my wallet in the still unstitched blazer pocket. My anguished scream of pain largely went unnoticed and before long I was being introduced to the CEO of HPQ, Carleton Fiorina. Both she and Gretchen were...
My inherent modesty combined with a healthy respect for the privacy of others (possible lawsuit) prevents me from continuing in detail. Suffice it to say that the Compx wasn't the only thing spiking at 3:30pm.
