Boiler Room Page #3

What is there to talk about, Seth?

Well, I don't know why

we can't just discuss this. I mean...

Maybe you're just not

seeing my side.

Your side? What side?

You're doing wrong.

I'm not your best friend.

That's your mother's racket.

I'm your father.

I tell you when you screw up.

What did you think I was gonna do?

Pat you on the back for the casino idea?

Tell you what

a great entrepreneur you are?

So what do you want me

to do, Seth?

I mean, my God, if I'd called my father

to meet me for a cup of coffee...

to talk about my screwups,

he probably would've laughed.

We didn't have nice little chats

about why I was a bad boy.

I got smacked.

And I didn't do it again.

Much simpler.

Look. I'm just trying to restore

what's left of our relationship.

"Relationship"?

What the f*** are you

talking about, relationship?

What? Are we dating?

I'm not your girlfriend Seth;

I'm your father.

Clean up your life,

make an honest living...

and then you and I can talk

like normal people, all right?

- Hey, Seth.

- Hi. How you doin'?

- Abby.

- Oh, yeah. I know. I forgot.

It's okay. I never told you.

Besides, the other day

you looked a little frazzled...

so I didn't think

you'd remember anyway.

- Today's my first day.

- No sh*t?

Yeah.

- See ya.

- See ya.

No, that's not how it works.

If I was asking you to

own 5,000 or 10,000 shares...

of some pink-sheet, bullshit company

with negative earnings...

I'd tell you

to hang up the phone...

call your local broker

and short the stock.

I wouldn't expect your business.

But, Don, I am bringing you...

Seth. Seth. Come over here.

It's not your table.

...F.D.A. Landmark approval.

It's, like, the cancer pill.

No. It's a cancer pill.

No, Don, it's not Propecia P.

It is the cancer pill.

Oh, Donald, please take a chance.

You look pretty.

Thank you.

So you wanna tell me where the f***

you were last night?

- Not particularly.

- Okay.

This is for you.

I don't know how to better

explain this to you, but...

it's over.

Okay. I disagree.

- Hang on a second.

- Here you go.

- What's up? Is he in?

- I don't know.

Hey. These are the D&B cards.

These are our leads.

- Morning.

- Every card is an opportunity, right?

These are good leads.

People on these cards buy stock.

Your job is to call them

and get them interested in the firm.

You're not actually selling stock yet,

but you're selling the dream.

So get 'em wet. Tell 'em

that in a month from now...

a senior broker's gonna

call them back with an idea.

So who are these people?

Average client's 45 years old,

from the Midwest...

$150,000 annual income,

but loves a hotshot New Yorker

who sounds good on the phone.

So the card won't tell you that. It only

has name, address and occupation.

So you gotta

feel 'em out, see?

"Peter Davis, Vice President,

Parks Telecommunications."

The guy's probably

a f***in' whale.

So feel 'im out, see what he's got.

Truth is, it doesn't matter these days.

With the Dow where it is now,

everybody wants a piece of the market.

I can close anyone anytime anywhere.

Just give me a phone number.

- Greg, I have John Duncklee on three.

- Not now. I'll call him back.

Now, once you qualify the guy,

you send him a press packet.

It'll be easy, and it'll get you

comfortable on the phone, which is key.

This entire business revolves

around the phone. Play the numbers.

This is a contact sport. The more people

you contact, the better you'll do.

- A good broker makes 700 calls a day.

- What's the phone bill like?

This month

was approaching 400,000.

Listen to me. Even though

you're not selling stock yet...

I want you to remember the code

we have here, okay?

- Did you see Glengarry Glen Ross?

- Yeah.

- Do you remember "ABC"?

- Yeah. "Always be closing."

That's right. "Always be closing."

"Telling's not selling."

That's the attitude you wanna have.

There's two rules as a trainee.

Number one:

We don't pitch the b*tch here.

What?

We don't sell stock to women.

I don't care who it is; we don't do it.

Nancy Sinatra calls,

you tell her you're sorry.

They're a constant pain

in the ass...

and you're never

gonna hear the end of it.

They'll call you every f***ing day

wanting to know why the stock dropped.

And God forbid

the stock should go up.

You're gonna hear

from them every 15 minutes.

It's just not worth it.

Don't pitch the b*tch.

Number two:

Don't write wood, all right?

A lot of trainees are so anxious

to get off the phone...

that they just steamroll the guy

into getting the press packet...

so they can hang up.

Then I call back, and I'm, like...

"Hi. You spoke to a junior

associate of mine last month."

And he's like, "Not interested. Bye."

That's a shitty lead, okay?

That's f***ing wood.

The info we send is bullshit, all right?

The most important part is telling them

you have that one great idea...

and that a senior broker's

gonna call them back in a month.

This way they don't think

we just fire off a million recos a day.

We don't want clients thinkin'...

you're pitching something

you read in the Journal, right?

- Yeah. Right.

- Okay, so no wood.

- I'm serious. No wood.

- All right. Take it easy.

Hey, don't even start

that f***in' sh*t with me, okay?

I'm tryin' to tell you what's expected

of you and what your job is.

I'm tryin' to make the job easier, okay?

Don't give me any f***in' lip.

Okay. Okay, so, fine.

What happens if the guy

wants to buy stock right then?

Now you're talkin'. You wanna go

into every call expecting just that.

If somebody wants a recommendation,

put the guy on hold...

stand up and yell "reco"

at the top of your lungs.

First senior broker who gets

on the horn gets the sale.

- Sound good?

- Yeah.

Okay. That suit's dog sh*t.

Get a new suit.

No, Ma. I told you.

No, I'm not a broker yet.

I'm a trainee. I still have

to pass my Series Seven test.

Please.

You're a stockbroker.

You wear a suit to work

every day, don't you?

- Yeah.

- So, what are we arguing about?

- Thanks, Ma.

- You're doing great, Seth.

You're working your way up

from the bottom. Never easy.

What did Dad say about it?

He's very happy.

Shocked, but very happy.

- He's waiting for you to call him.

- Why doesn't he call me?

- One miracle at a time, okay, sweetie?

- All right.

- Mom?

- I'm in bed.

- How you doin'?

- Hi, baby. How was work?

I know you're not at home with a bag

of cash, waiting for me to call you.

But I'm not some 18-year old selling

the cure for Al DS. I am 46 years old.

I have 22 years of market experience.

I know this business.

So pick up your skirt, grab your balls

and let's make some money.

Here you go, Greg.

I hope this is better

than the last batch of sh*t you gave me.

- Produced more wood than Ron Jeremy.

- What?

I don't want you to yell "reco" anymore.

Know what you should yell? "Timber!"

Yeah. Mr. F***in' Wood.

I hear you f***in' makin' your calls.

It's bullshit, all right?

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