My muscular intern wanted to gamble in the prediction market.
I refused.
“Damian, prediction markets are built on financial capitalism and the weaknesses of human nature.”
I slapped him instead, like a Tintin slap.
He looked bewildered.
Then, something shocking happened.
My live-in partner’s boyfriend, Jdn, taught him how to open an account and even gave him start-up capital.
“Thank you, Uncle Jdn,” my muscular intern said, his eyes gleaming with a wicked light.
I pulled my partner aside. “He’s undermining our values and shaking my authority as the only morally corrupt person here.”
She muttered, “At least he lets him play like a real adult.”
That night, while my intern slept, I logged into his account.
I closed all his positions and then shut down the account.
The money? Gone.
Then I gave him the lesson he deserved—another slap—and a lecture on Asian values and how to control emotions in volatile markets.
He woke up to find his account gone and nearly cried.
I smiled and said, “You’ve finally shaken off your financial illusions.”
He started trembling and cried even harder.
A good mentor doesn’t teach your muscle-bound intern how to win, but how not to be too happy.
One day, when he too becomes a morally tormented Asian, he’ll thank me.