“Fiduciary, you douche. F-I-D-U-C-I-A-R-Y, you knuckle dragging Neanderthal.” He continued his sanctimonious tirade with his Moleskines tucked majestically under his left arm.
“You must really be a cretin not to understand what fiduciary is.”
Jeffrey, unphased by the torrent of condescension, posed the question again.
“What does fiduciary mean?”
Mr. Moleskine regurgitated his abuse, unable to understand Jeffrey’s intention.
It was time for me to intervene.
“What my associate here means is: money, what is it good for? What is it’s intrinsic value? The question isn’t inquiring about a definition – it desires meaning. What does fiduciary mean beneath the surface?”
He laughed derisively.
“Everything. Money means everything. What stands between us and death is money.”
[being]
[oblivion]
