“Kids, let me tell you about how I met your mother…”
It all started a couple years after the Great War. If there was a time and place to be alive it was New York City in the roaring twenties and boy, do I mean roaring. Everything was thriving. We were on top of the world. The whole country was filled with confidence from our win and my wallet was filled with cold hard cash.
I always had a knack with stocks, so I picked being a floor trader. At this time I was a bit of an egg with nothing stopping me. You see, the stocks were doing great. Everyone had invested in them to support the war and now that the war was over everyone was investing in all of them. Stocks had their good day and then they had their bad. There was always rumour of it crashing, but who was suppose to believe that applesauce. We lived in the time where everyday people could become rich if they new what they were doing. There was nothing like being on the trading floor. I remember heading into the floor that Thursday. It seemed like any other, but it wasn’t. I was rushing in as I was running a bit late when a couple of dolls were walking slowly in front of me with no way to pass them. “Get a wiggle,” I hollered. They all scoffed, but moved over as I rushed by. “No, none of them were your mother.” Time was money and money was time. I couldn’t wait a second. As I rushed chaotically I realized I wasn’t the only one with my feathers in a ruffle. Everyone was running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Some were pacing, some were even crying. The one thing they all had in common as they were crowded around the New York Exchange on Wall Street. The stocks were crashing. I could feel my stomach churn. I kept a calm exterior. The stock prices were plummeting. Everyone was selling their stocks, or trying too. Margin calls were sent out. Everyone was watching the ticker as the numbers it spent out showed their devastating fate. I watched helplessly as my money turned into thin air. It didn’t last long. We had small crashes before, so this was just one of these right? Bankers pooled their own money in and invested back into the stock market to convince others from selling. Everything was fine. I had never watched that ticker so closely, each and everyday since that Thursday. I barely slept. Counting my money, making sure I was okay. I didn’t want to pull out. I had done this before with the little crashes and have come out on top. I spent each wakening hour possible making sure that would be the case again. Many others were as well. Even though the crash was over, everyone still continued to gather around. I stood there trying to keep my hands from shaking, by grinding my teeth. It’s a …show more content…
This tie, as the stock prices fell, no one came to save it. I tried to get out, I did. Nothing worked in my favour. Everyone was selling and no one was buying. Everyone was panicking.
October 29, 1921 or better known as “Black Tuesday”, was when I knew I had lost everything. It was the worst day of them all. That was the day I decided to take my eyes of the ticker. I knew my fate was sealed.
I took my hat off and headed home except I couldn’t seem to get myself to go there. If I went home, hung up my hat and took off my suit, then today would be the last time I could proudly where it. Today was the last day of being a rich man.
I couldn’t let the day end like that. So I quickly turned into the first speakeasy I could find. I wasn’t much of a drinker. I mean no one was if you asked because of prohibition, but I truly wasn’t. I never had a reason to. I figured though if I am going to spend the last of my money, it mays well be buying some bootleg and flirting with a few flappers.
I sat down at the bar and opened my wallet, almost wincing in pain as I handed over some of my final bills.
“Hard day with the stocks fella?” a sweet voice asked. I looked up to see gorgeous
It all started a couple years after the Great War. If there was a time and place to be alive it was New York City in the roaring twenties and boy, do I mean roaring. Everything was thriving. We were on top of the world. The whole country was filled with confidence from our win and my wallet was filled with cold hard cash.
I always had a knack with stocks, so I picked being a floor trader. At this time I was a bit of an egg with nothing stopping me. You see, the stocks were doing great. Everyone had invested in them to support the war and now that the war was over everyone was investing in all of them. Stocks had their good day and then they had their bad. There was always rumour of it crashing, but who was suppose to believe that applesauce. We lived in the time where everyday people could become rich if they new what they were doing. There was nothing like being on the trading floor. I remember heading into the floor that Thursday. It seemed like any other, but it wasn’t. I was rushing in as I was running a bit late when a couple of dolls were walking slowly in front of me with no way to pass them. “Get a wiggle,” I hollered. They all scoffed, but moved over as I rushed by. “No, none of them were your mother.” Time was money and money was time. I couldn’t wait a second. As I rushed chaotically I realized I wasn’t the only one with my feathers in a ruffle. Everyone was running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Some were pacing, some were even crying. The one thing they all had in common as they were crowded around the New York Exchange on Wall Street. The stocks were crashing. I could feel my stomach churn. I kept a calm exterior. The stock prices were plummeting. Everyone was selling their stocks, or trying too. Margin calls were sent out. Everyone was watching the ticker as the numbers it spent out showed their devastating fate. I watched helplessly as my money turned into thin air. It didn’t last long. We had small crashes before, so this was just one of these right? Bankers pooled their own money in and invested back into the stock market to convince others from selling. Everything was fine. I had never watched that ticker so closely, each and everyday since that Thursday. I barely slept. Counting my money, making sure I was okay. I didn’t want to pull out. I had done this before with the little crashes and have come out on top. I spent each wakening hour possible making sure that would be the case again. Many others were as well. Even though the crash was over, everyone still continued to gather around. I stood there trying to keep my hands from shaking, by grinding my teeth. It’s a …show more content…
This tie, as the stock prices fell, no one came to save it. I tried to get out, I did. Nothing worked in my favour. Everyone was selling and no one was buying. Everyone was panicking.
October 29, 1921 or better known as “Black Tuesday”, was when I knew I had lost everything. It was the worst day of them all. That was the day I decided to take my eyes of the ticker. I knew my fate was sealed.
I took my hat off and headed home except I couldn’t seem to get myself to go there. If I went home, hung up my hat and took off my suit, then today would be the last time I could proudly where it. Today was the last day of being a rich man.
I couldn’t let the day end like that. So I quickly turned into the first speakeasy I could find. I wasn’t much of a drinker. I mean no one was if you asked because of prohibition, but I truly wasn’t. I never had a reason to. I figured though if I am going to spend the last of my money, it mays well be buying some bootleg and flirting with a few flappers.
I sat down at the bar and opened my wallet, almost wincing in pain as I handed over some of my final bills.
“Hard day with the stocks fella?” a sweet voice asked. I looked up to see gorgeous