I was visiting San Francisco to see one of my friends who works in wealth management. We went to a strip club, and while I was there, I saw Nevin, surrounded by women. He was throwing tons of money at them, but not just bills. It was stacks upon stacks of $10,000, sealed up with the white paper bands, like he had just come straight from a bank.
I went up to him and congratulated him on the success of Reserve as of late (this was about a month ago), and he started laughing. He took a hefty swig from a bottle of Dom Perignon, and said, "Yeah? You think I care, reservie?" Confused, I asked what he meant, and said that he had obviously put a lot of work into helping disadvantaged third worlders and he should be proud.
"I don't give two fucks about those pajeets, kid."
He was about to say something else but one of the strippers tapped him on the shoulder. Nevin pulled out from his pocket the biggest ziplock bag full of cocaine I've ever seen in my life. It looked like one of those gallon bags, almost bulging at the seams. The stripper ran off into a back room with it. He then pulled out a Zippo lighter.
"You wanna know what I think about Reserve?"
He picked up his bottle of champagne on the floor, pulled about 20 stacks of bills from a duffel bag, threw them on the floor, poured champagne all over them, flicked his Zippo, and dropped it onto the pile. Almost instantly the whole stack caught.
I stared at him, speechless.
"It's called a 'PUMP and DUMP,' kid."