I am wearing my stylish new shoes today, the burgundy suede d�Orsay pumps. Pretty, so pretty. I believe they may have helped me hold the line this morning when a hedge fund manager was needling me for information.

Manager: �Well, we�d like to know more about the underlying investors.�

Schmance: �They are, for the most part, U.S.-domiciled private pension plans. There are a handful of IRA accounts, too.�

Manager: �Can you tell me more about who they are?�

Schmance: �What would you like to know about them?�

Manager: �Ideally, we�d like to know their names.�

Schmance: �I won�t give you names. We have confidentiality agreements with these clients.�

Manager: �Well, it�s just that our legal counsel are trying to get more comfortable with our various exposures. We�d like to know more about them.�

Schmance: �There isn�t much more I can tell you without giving you names, which you know I won�t do.�

The thing is, we have a long-standing relationship (nearly ten years) with this manager, but they consistently treat us as if we are in some way suspect. No matter how curious they may be about the identities of our clients, we are not obligated to reveal identifying information as long as we certify that we follow all the rules designed to assure everyone that no one is laundering money. What�s more, I don�t think their curiosity is even related to money-laundering concerns. I think they just want some assurance regarding our stability as an institutional investor. I wish we could ditch this particular manager and be done with it. We don�t even have that much money invested with them--$60 million, out of the $6 billion we manage. That's like nuthin', man.

There, dear readers, there�s a nice little glimpse into my professional concerns.

Anyway, the shoes. I love my pretty shoes. They pinch my toes a bit, but they make me strong somehow.

Other than that, well, all that�s happened is that the anger has begun to fade and the hurt is starting to show more.

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