EXT: SIDEWALK NEW YORK CITY

Ground floor view looking up at a skyscraper. 

The building is grey, gothic and mammoth.  An ornate sign over the entrance gives us the name of the owner of this building: JPMorgan Chase.

A date flashes at the bottom of the screen: March 13, 2008

INT: OFFICE LOBBY

Two men stand uncomfortably in front of a beautiful, red headed woman, BRONWYN HENDRICKS, who sits at a receptionist’s desk.  One man is bearded and bald.  The other is thin and boyish looking with floppy brown hair.  Each wears a cheap, ill fitting suit with shoes that don’t match.  These men are BEN BERNANKE and TIMOTHY GEITHNER.   

BRONWYN: Is Mr. Dimon expecting you?

TIMOTHY: Well, not exactly, you see…

BEN (cutting TIMOTHY off, somewhat franticly): We have to see him!

TIMOTHY: Just tell him it’s ol’ Timmy Geithner.

BEN (even wider-eyed and more frantic than before): We have to see him!

 BRONWYN (dubiously): Geetner and

BEN: Bernanke!

BRONWYN: OK, I’ll see.  Please sit over there while I check in with Mr. Dimon.

TIMOTHY: Remember to tell him it’s Timmy Geithner.

BEN: We have to see him!

TIMOTHY: Don’t worry, Ben. (Grabbing Ben by the shoulders and moving him to the waiting area.)  You see me and Jamie go way back.  Yes we do.  Jamie told me if I ever got into a fix I should call him up and he would take care of it.

BEN (Calming slightly):  He did? 

TIMOTHY: Now, you let me do all the talkin’, Ben.  I know these Wall St types.  They real tough.  Tough as nails, but I know how to speak their language.  

Out of the doorway of the office walks a tall, fit, good looking man.  He is impeccably dressed and groomed.  He stands straight, walks with confidence and oozes success.  He flashes a big, bright smile as he exits his office door and enters the reception area.  This is JAMIE DIMON.

JAMIE: Little Timmy Geithner.  What are you doing in these parts?  (looking at Bronwyn reproachfully) Bronwyn, how could you keep Timmy Geithner waiting?  Timmy’s an important man.

TIMOTHY: Ah gee, Jamie…

JAMIE: And what do we have here?  Is that Ben Bernanke?

BEN: We’re in a heck of a mess, Jamie!

TIMOTHY: Shush, Ben!  Yes, this is Ben.  Say hi, Ben.

BEN (embarrassed and downcast): Hi, Jamie.

JAMIE: A mess, huh?

TIMOTHY: No, no, Jamie.  Not a mess.  More like, um, we have a great opportunity for you.

 JAMIE: A great opportunity for me?  Come on in and tell me all about this great opportunity.  Bronwyn, get these boys a glass of Noah’s Mill.  Ice or neat, boys?

BEN: Is that alcohol?  I dunno if we should be drinking right now.

TIMOTHY (furiously to Ben): Ben!  Quiet! This is the way you do it on Wall St!  Yes, of course we would love some Noah’s Ark.  Neat is just fine.

JAMIE: Great.  Come right in.  Bronwyn, some Noah’s Mill for the boys and me.

BRONWYN: Yes, Mr. Dimon.

INT: JAMIE DIMON’S OFFICE.

Jamie walks in and sits behind a massive oak desk.  The office has expansive views of the New York skyline.   Ben walks in with mouth opened awe.

BEN: Wow.

Timothy and Ben sit in the guest chairs.

JAMIE: They say Mr. JP Morgan himself used this desk.  Really something, isn’t it?  Now, what is this about an (beat) opportunity?

BEN: It’s Bear, Jamie.  They can’t pay their bills…

TIMOTHY: Ben!

Bronwyn interrupts to drop off the drinks

TIMOTHY: Thanks.

Timothy takes a big sip of courage before restarting.

TIMOTHY:  It’s Bear, Jamie.  Jimmy Cayne, he’s got himself in a whole heap of trouble.

JAMIE: Jimmy? My mother was at a bridge tournament recently and saw him there.  She said he looked great.  Has something happened?

TIMOTHY: Oh, it’s this whole subprime mortgage thing, Jamie.  I guess, Jimmy, he got himself a little too deep in that stuff and now he needs some help gettin’ out.

JAMIE: Subprime?  I’m not sure I’m the right man for that.  I’m a simple commercial banker. 

BEN (animatedly): You have to help!

 TIMOTHY: Quiet, Ben.  Let me do the talking.  See the thing is Jamie, Bear is having some, um, short term cash flow needs and they need a little money, just for a little while mind you, or they may go (leans in and whispers) out of business. 

JAMIE: Short term cash flow needs?

TIMOTHY: Yes, exactly.  See, Ben and I here we was hopin’ that maybe you can help Bear out with a little loan. 

JAMIE: Golly, boys.  You know how much I would love to help, but I don’t think there is anything I can do.  I’m so busy right now.  (Gestures at the two files sitting on his desk) My wife is badgering me about re-doing the kitchen at our Hamptons place.  Bronwyn keeps pestering me to look at some plans for renovating the building lobby.  I’m burning the midnight oil around these parts.

BEN: Man, oh, man.  That is a lot of stuff.

TIMOTHY: (Losing his cool) Jamie, you have to… (Immediately calming himself down)   I mean, couldn’t you even check it out, Jamie?  It would mean the world to us.

JAMIE: I tell you what I’ll do.  Now, I’m going to get in trouble with Bronwyn over this, so you owe me big time, but maybe I can put that dang lobby renovation on hold and take Bear off your hands.

BEN: (Excitedly) You would do that for us?     

TIMOTHY: That’s great, Jamie.  And what are you thinking of paying for Bear?

JAMIE: Paying?

TIMOTHY: You know, what are you willing to pay for Bear to, uh, take them off our hands?

JAMIE: (Rubbing his chin) Well, I guess if you guys take, I don’t know, let’s say $30 billion of the worst assets off their books then it is one done deal.       

 BEN (Dumbfounded): $30 billion?

TIMOTHY: (Wiping sweat off his brow) $30 billion?  That’s a lot of money.   Well, I guess maybe we can do that.  Yeah, yeah, we can do that.  OK, how much will you pay then?

JD (Confused): Pay?

TG: For all the rest of the assets and liabilities?

JD: (Shaking his head) I’m sorry, guys.  I thought I had explained about the lobby renovation.  That is a big sacrifice.  Then there is also all the work of bringing the Bear guys over and teaching them the JPMorgan corporate song.  It takes a lot of work to get that song right.  I’m not sure you guys appreciate…

TG: Oh, no, Jamie.  It ain’t like that.  We totally understand.  Don’t we, Ben?

BEN (Nodding furiously):  We understand!

TIMOTHY: It’s just the taxpayer, Jamie.  Sometimes they don’t understand all this high finance and e-co-nomics talk.  Some reporter tells them that we gave Bear to JPMorgan while taking on $30 billion dollars in potential losses and they think we ain’t doin’ our jobs.  Ain’t that right, Ben.

BEN: The taxpayer, Jamie.  He just don’t understand all this finance and economics.

JAMIE: Hmm.  I guess that is a problem.  I know what a great job you all are doing and I would hate for some know nothing from the NY Times to get this all mixed up.  (beat)  I tell you what I will do boys. (Pounding his desk)  I will take on the first $1B in losses on that $30B portfolio.  How can anyone complain then?

TIMOTHY: Great.  OK, ok, and the shares?  How much will you pay for those?

JAMIE:  Man, you boys drive one hell of a hard bargain.  The board is going to crucify me for this one, but, for you little monkeys, I’ll do it.  I’ll give you 2 bucks a share.

TIMOTHY: Gee whiz, 2 dollars, Jamie.  You would do that just for us?  That’s mighty swell.  That’s mighty swell, ain’t it, Ben?

BEN: Oh, oh, great job, Tim.  Wait til we tell Paulson.  He’ll respect us then.  He’ll start letting us attend the big boy meetings after he hears about this.

 JAMIE: Ah, my reputation is going to be shot, but it’s a deal, boys. (Standing up and walking over to shake hands).  Bronwyn (calling out), pour a celebratory round for me and the boys.

Bronwyn enters and tops off everyone’s glass.

JAMIE: (holding up his glass) To Wall Street!

BEN and TIMOTHY together: To Wall Street!

The three men clink their glasses and take deep sips.

Fade to black.     

HOSPITAL INTERIOR: Dr. H. Paulson sits at his desk, examining charts.  Vikram PANDIT, a Super Bowl-winning wide receiver, enters, hobbling, his hand clutched to his thigh.

PANDIT:                               Dr. Paulson! Just the man I wanted to see!

PAULSON:                           What seems to be the problem here? [Double take as he recognizes the famed WR] Oh my goodness! Are you Vikram Pandit?

PANDIT:                               Yeah, playa! You see this ring? [Flashes gleaming Super Bowl ring, denoting wealth and status]

PAULSON:                           [Startled] You’re bleeding!  How did this happen?

PANDIT:                               Well, I was at the club, and, well… some unprecedented market conditions went down, and, well… the result is I got shot.

PAULSON:                           Oh, well, clearly.

PANDIT:                               C’mon Paulson, get movin!  Where’s my bailout at?  Stitch me up, beeatch!

PAULSON:                           Well, the law requires me to go through certain constitutional procedures before I stitch you up…

PANDIT:                               “Bleep”  THAT! We need to keep this on the DL, so I maintain my competitive position against the Germans and Swiss.

PAULSON:                           [Getting agitated] Actually, I’m not sure that’s legal…

PANDIT:                               “Bleep” legal, I’m BLEEDING dammit.

PAULSON:                           [Alarmed] I guess you’re right.  [Bellows] NURSE!

Bearded male nurse enters, groveling, whimpering a bit

NURSE BERNANKE:         [Meekly] Yes, Dr. Paulson?

PAULSON:                           [Panicking]  Can’t you see this man is bleeding?!  Get some “bleepin”  gauze and stuff, stat!

NURSE BERNANKE:         [Calm, but uncertain]  But… but… how did this happen?

PAULSON:                           [Yelling at the poor nurse] Unprecedented market conditions, goddammit! Just “bleepin”   do your job!

NURSE BERNANKE:         Well, hold on.. . That doesn’t really make a lot of sense.  Most people don’t just get shot because of “unprecedented conditions” – don’t you think we should ask a few more questions?

PAULSON:                           [Really panicking now] NO! Dammit, this is critical!

NURSE BERNANKE:         OK, I’ll call the proper authorities, as we are required by law to do.

PAULSON and PANDIT [unison]:                               “BLEEP” THAT!

NURSE BERNANKE:         [Meekly]  Ummm, ok, ok.  I’ll do it.  [He shudders to himself, shaking his head, disgusted at what he has become.]

END