ZACKARY MARKS.• Jamaica Defense Forces Base
Patriot Avenue, Kingston Heights
Sector 7, Military District
Kingston, JamaicaI sat at my desk, the screen in front of me casting a faint glow over the papers scattered around. My fingers moved across the keyboard, inputting numbers and checking the latest market data.
The phone was pressed to my ear, and I could hear the client on the other end talking, but I was already a step ahead, adjusting the models on my screen.
"Yeah, I've gone over the Q4 projections," I said, glancing between the spreadsheet and the notes I'd scribbled earlier.
"There's definitely some concern with the volatility, but if we tweak the allocation based on the interest rate forecasts, we can offset most of it."
I grabbed my pen and started tapping it against my notepad, listening for a moment while they responded.
Multitasking was second nature by now, handling the call while updating figures on my screen felt like just another part of the job.
"We're gonna need to shift some of the portfolio," I continued, keeping my voice steady. "But I'll have a revised report ready by tomorrow. You'll have it first thing."
With a quick keystroke, I saved the updates and leaned back in my chair, still focused on the conversation but already thinking about the next steps. This was just another day in the world of finance, balancing clients, numbers, and the ever-shifting market.
Love how dat did short and nice, no bagga pointless fucking chatting.
Just as I hung up, my phone rang again. I glanced at the caller ID and saw it was another client, one who was notoriously detail-oriented.
"Hello?" I answered, forcing enthusiasm into my voice.
"Hey, thanks for getting back to me," the new client started, their tone already hinting at anxiety. "I really don't understand why our returns are down this quarter. Can you explain that again?"
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Did I have "explain returns" written on my forehead?
Bloodclaat man.
"Yes, I've analyzed the performance, and the market fluctuations have definitely played a role," I replied, mentally reminding myself to keep my cool.
"We can look at the specific investments that underperformed, but overall, we expected some volatility this time of year."
As they continued to rattle off their concerns, I could feel my irritation creeping in. Why couldn't they see the bigger picture?
I muted the call for a second, breathing through my annoyance. Each time I explained this, it felt like I was backtracking rather than moving forward. I exhaled quietly in frustration. Every conversation with this client was like this—endless hand-holding, constant doubt. I clicked back on, my voice steady again.
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