[Michael is in the open outcry floor of the Stock exchange]
10½!
9.25!
25! I'll take it!
How's July? July's how?
July's at 95¼.
"Moron"?! "Moron," this. At 95! At 95!
94¾ bid, for 300.
Sold, 300!
Buy 300, yes!
[to Trader 4]
300?! 300, you idiot?! [to another trader] Get out of my way! [following Michael] 300 lots of coffee futures? You call that a hunch?
No, Richard, I call that an opportunity.
300 lots, in this market, is not an opportunity, it's a death wish.
Oh, ye of little faith.
No, no, no. Me of big mortgage.
Hi, Maddy. What've you got?
American Airlines Flight 109 leaving J.F.K., 1:00 p.m., arriving Caracas at 6:22 p.m.
All right, all right.
Aw, come on. You're not still leaving, are you? I mean, after what you did in there?
I'm getting married to Charlotte in 30 days. In order to do that, I need the divorce from Patricia.
Toiletries, shirts, socks...
I don't believe this. You're gonna leave me with 5,100 tons of coffee?
Richard, the only reason I put up with you for so long is because you're the best analyst on the Street.
You know, you give me that same patronizing little speech every time you play one of your stupid hunches.
Yeah? And what happens?
I'm hospitalized, and the blood pressure medication is adjusted.
Laptop. Uplink. [Michael gets in taxi] You'll overnight in Caracas, then fly to Canaima the next morning where you'll be met.
Thanks. [to Richard] See ya in two days!
