October 1, 1989. I arrived at JFK Airport. My purpose was to immigrate to the United States. I was called into a separate room at the airport for immigration screening. Thanks to my American husband, who had sponsored my application (of course, before that, everything had been investigated, including my medical examination, medical history, criminal record, travel history, educational background, family structure, and family medical history), I was issued a temporary green card that same day. Now I could work in the United States.
On January 3 of the following year, I began working at DLJ on Broadway, near the New York Stock Exchange. This time, I was a U.S. equity sales assistant serving Japanese institutional investors. The two people who hired me were a man who was already a legendary Japanese trader on Wall Street at the time, and a Japanese woman who was petite, had a bob haircut, wore high-quality suits, and gave the impression of being calm but extremely capable. Actually, I had interviewed with these two people in Japan before and had been rejected. So, of course, I was convinced that I would be rejected again. I planned to go home and complain to the recruiter, saying, “See? I told you DLJ wouldn’t work out.” However, the moment I opened the door to my home after the interview, my husband said, “Congratulations! You got the job!” They had already called. Thanks to that opportunity, I remain so close to those two former bosses that we still travel together, even 30 years later.
I was now working in the very heart of Wall Street.
To put it plainly, I understood absolutely nothing at first. I couldn’t understand English. I didn’t understand why stock prices went up and down. The American salespeople, graduates of prestigious MBA programs, intimidated me. When I brought trade tickets to the trading desk, they teased me with jokes I couldn’t understand. On top of that, my most important responsibility was to prepare handwritten trade confirmation reports for Japanese institutional investors and send them the details of that day’s transactions. This work required meticulous attention to detail, which was completely unsuited to my rather rough-and-ready personality. Stock prices moved in increments of one-eighth, so I had to calculate figures such as 0.125 and 0.875. Large transactions involving 500,000 shares, for example, could consist of different numbers of shares traded at multiple prices, and it was my job to consolidate them into a single price. Sales transactions were subject to SEC fees, commissions varied depending on the transaction, and there were even times when I mistakenly reported a purchase as a sale or vice versa. This was the era of telex machines. There was no AI, and everything had to be entered manually into Excel. I made mistake after mistake, and I dreaded days with heavy trading volumes—an attitude completely at odds with the company’s objectives. As a result, the Tokyo office would call almost every day, just around the time I was getting home. Then my boss would receive complaints from Tokyo. Oh, I really got scolded a lot.
Every morning, I took the 6:03 bus while it was still dark and arrived at work at 7:30. Since the work of preparing trade reports began after the market closed at 4:00 p.m., I usually got home around 7:30 in the evening. It was difficult, but my two bosses were understanding. Also, Hans, a veteran salesperson in the international department who sat at the desk next to mine, and his assistant, Betty, treated me like their own child. Thanks to them, I was able to settle into the workplace.
However, in 1992, the boss I respected so much left the company due to illness. After that, another highly capable woman from a distinguished family was transferred from the Tokyo office and became my boss. When her husband’s assignment in New York ended, she also returned to Japan. And finally, in 1994, I became a salesperson.
That was when the real suffering began.
As I have said many times, I truly could not understand the English spoken during research meetings. I didn’t know what information I should communicate to clients. Even when I narrowed my focus to a few stocks and studied them, the next day everyone would be talking about completely different stocks. I didn’t even know whom to ask or how to ask. Hans told me, “Go ask the analysts.” But I didn’t yet have enough knowledge to speak with the analysts on equal terms. Even so, I swallowed my embarrassment and went to ask questions again and again. Eventually, they stopped paying attention to me.
Believe it or not, it took six years before I finally began to feel that I could more or less understand what was being discussed in the research meetings that started at 7:30 every morning. But my own portfolio was a disaster. I was always buying at high prices and selling at low prices. Looking back, I am amazed that clients were willing to listen to a salesperson like me. But at the time, I was simply desperate. Even though I understood very little, I was doing everything I possibly could.
At that time, Meiji Life was the largest Japanese institutional investor making local investments in the United States. I was responsible for the account, but of course, they were not going to give meaningful business to a salesperson who understood so little. Japanese salespeople from Goldman Sachs, Morgan Stanley, Lehman Brothers, Nomura, and other firms were invited to parties at the Meiji Life portfolio manager’s home in Westchester. I was never invited. That was how incapable I was as a salesperson.
After work, I attended the New York Institute of Finance, where I studied bookkeeping and how to read financial statements from the very beginning. Thanks to that experience, I still enjoy reading annual reports today.
Then, somehow, I was assigned to an institutional investor affiliated with a life insurance company in the United Kingdom. I began spending my days summarizing English research reports in English and communicating the information in English. I focused exclusively on that client and thoroughly studied the stocks they held.
And finally, I began to understand how stock prices are formed through the interaction of everything: individual companies, industries, the American economy, and global politics. I began to understand how stock prices would move when pressure was placed on different parts of the system. At last, I began to find the whole process fascinating.
Next time, I would like to return to the subject of leadership and write about the leadership demonstrated by my former boss, a true Wall Street veteran and former trader whom I deeply respect.