Boiler Room

I read this article

a while back...

that said Microsoft employs more

millionaire secretaries...

than any other company

in the world.

They took stock options

over Christmas bonuses.

It was a good move.

I remember there was this photograph

of one of the groundskeepers...

next to his Ferrari.

Blew my mind.

You see sh*t like that,

and it just plants seeds...

makes you think it's possible,

even easy.

And then you turn on the TV,

and there's just more of it.

The $87 million dollar

lottery winner.

That kid actor that just made

20 million on his last movie.

That Internet stock that

shot through the roof.

You could've made millions on it

if you'd just got in early.

And that's exactly

what I wanted to do... get in.

I didn't want to be an innovator. I just

wanted to make the quick, easy buck.

I just wanted in.

Notorious B.I.G.

Said it best...

"Either you're slinging crack rock,

or you got a wicked jump shot. "

Nobody wants to work

for it anymore.

There's no honor in taking

that after-school job at Mickey D's.

Honor's in the dollar, kid.

So I went the white-boy way

of slinging crack rock.

I became a stockbroker.

- Get off!

- Two hundred!

Put your money back down!

Yo! Put your money back down!

So I got in at this firm,

J. T. Marlin...

owned by

this guy Michael Brantley...

a salesman among salesmen.

Mr. Brantley!

- Mr. Brantley! Welcome! How are you?

- How you gonna handle these guys?

- They're great.

- You think you can handle this or what?

- I think so. We can handle it.

- You can handle it?

A double scotch on the rocks.

Holy sh*t, yo.

Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo!

That's the jockey from Venezuela.

He's a sicko. He weighs like 48 pounds.

Whatever. Give me three-to-one

on that skinny little n*gger.

Richie, Richie.

Do me a favor, will you?

Just for, like, ten minutes.

Just give it a rest.

Yo, homes, I need some "chocaine."

I need some motherfuckin' nose candy.

I need some cizzi up my nizzi...

'cause I need to get high

like a motherf***er.

Know what I'm sayin'?

So give me some of that nose candy.

Bring that table over here.

Everybody quiet down for a second.

All right. Hold on.

Thanks. I wanted to let you know those

pikers at the N.A.S.D. Are off our ass.

- F***in' retard.

- F*** you. I'm on vacation.

Bear Stearns can call the S.E.C.

They can't find any dirt on us.

J.T. Marlin, once again,

has unlimited trading authorization.

I told you guys.

You can't keep a good man down!

We're superstars now.

J.P. Morgan just faxed over

their congratulations...

and said,

"Welcome to the club."

This also means those teams

headed by Todd and Richie...

who were good enough

to give up their rep numbers...

They can stop cold calling

and start trading again.

Welcome back!

And just to show you

how appreciative I am...

there's a little something extra.

Tell me about it, baby, tell me!

I want you guys

to go up to suite 418.

I handpicked them myself.

We're players now, boys!

Let's celebrate. Salute!

Don't touch the cards.

Don't touch the cards.

- Fourteen.

- Hit me.

Come on, Mike. I told you you

gotta hit the table. Sixteen.

Hit me.

And bust.

Sorry about that.

F***! Can't

win a f***in' hand tonight!

Hey, Steve?

Come here for a second.

You thirsty?

I don't care.

Go take my car and get Mike a Coke

and a falafel. You hungry?

Yeah. Yeah.

Sure. Why not?

- And dealer busts.

- Yeah!

What the f*** are

you so happy about?

Whoa, take it easy.

Roller coaster.

Ups and downs. You know that.

All right. Place your bets.

I was living in Kew Gardens Hills,

running my biz...

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