Apparently Jeremy banks at AIG:
As you can imagine, the past two weeks have been most enjoyable. No wait. That’s the wrong word. I mean blood-in-my-feet, dead-faint-half-the-time terrifying.
As I sat there on that horrible Monday, watching the whole financial world on the brink of collapse, I thought back to all the midnight oil I’d burnt writing these columns, all the crappy hotels I’d stayed in while making various television shows. And how all of that revenue would be lost for a raft of reasons I simply didn’t understand.
Of course I made strenuous efforts to get my money out of AIG as soon as the scale of its problems became apparent. But it wasn’t possible. It had shut the fund in which I’d invested and it would remain closed for three months while it tried to sell the assets. “We need to do this in an orderly fashion,” said the man on the phone, calmly.
Inwardly I was screaming. I don’t give a shit about an orderly fashion, any more than a man in the trenches wants to look smart while running for his life. It’s my money. I gave it to you. You’ve squandered it on a Mexican’s house in San Diego and a stupid football team and that’s your problem. Not mine.
We went to poor beleaguered WaMu yesterday to deposit our paper-formatted wedding presents and add me to Peter’s account. I said I didn’t need a debit card yet but did she have any idea when the new signage would switch over, since if they’re going to just send me a new card that says JP Morgan Chase I might as well wait till then. She said she didn’t know, but judging from some of the stuff they’ve said about other things, it might take as long as sixth months. I wonder what it’ll look like.