Pounded By The Pound: Sports Direct’s Hedges and the Cable Flash Crash

Introduction

Just after midnight London time on October 7th, 2016, GBPUSD (henceforth “cable”, henceforth “betty”1) abruptly plunged from 1.2620 to 1.1841 1.1938 1.1378 1.1500 1.14912 in the space of about three minutes, then just as quickly bounced back to the mid-1.20s. Explanations for the move ranged from “algorithms!” to “fat fingers!” to “stop-losses being executed in the typically thin, illiquid markets that prevail between NY and Tokyo timezones” to “hard Brexit” to, probably, “aliens landing on the grounds of Buckingham Palace!”.

Later in the morning (London time), UK retailer Sports Direct issued a terse RNS release updating its FY17 financial guidance:

In the Trading Update provided on 7 September 2016, the Company stated that it expected FY17 Underlying EBITDA to be in the region of £300m. This guidance was based on a GBP/USD rate of approximately 1.30.

In light of recent downward currency movements, the Company entered into a hedging arrangement with respect to the GBP/USD rate. Extreme movements overnight resulted in a crystallisation of that rate at 1.19, resulting in a negative impact of approximately £15m on the Company’s FY17 Underlying EBITDA expectation.

In addition, after taking into account the hedging referred to above, if the GBP/USD rate is 1.20 on average for the remainder of FY17, then the negative impact on the Company’s FY17 Underlying EBITDA expectation would be in the order of a further £20m.

The implication of this statement is that Sports Direct diligently hedged its cable exposures when spot was up around 1.3000, but a barrier embedded in their hedging kicked in when cable traded through 1.1900, resetting the hedge rate from up around 1.3000 to 1.1900. This triggered the crystallisation of the GBP15mio loss reported in the RNS message.

From this, we can attempt to guess at what the Sports Direct hedging structure was; and from that, we can make an educated guess at the effect of the embedded barrier on the cable spot market. This post attempts to estimate the size of that effect.

Sample SportsDirect hedge structure

Unless SportsDirect themselves discloses the structure of their hedge book, we can’t know the exact structure that they were using to hedge their FY17 exposures. We can guess, though, and we can use a common FX hedging structure to approximate what their hedge might have been.

The RNS statement suggests that Sports Direct was previously hedged at 1.30, and then their hedge reset down to 1.19. If an 11-big-figure move in cable cost them GBP15mio (valued at 1.19), then their hedge notional must have been about GBP 160 mio3. There are nine months left in Sports Direct’s FY17 (they run July-June), so let’s assume that the GBP 160mio notional is spread over nine months – call it GBP 18 mio/month.

Let’s assume that SportsDirect was using a simple (simple to explain, that is – not so simple to manage!) bonus-forward-style hedge. We’ll assume it was structured something like the following:

If GBPUSD never trades at or below 1.1900, Sports Direct sells GBP 18 mio per month for twelve months at 1.3000.

If GBPUSD trades at 1.1900 at any time during the life of the hedge, then for all subsequent months, Sports Direct sells GBP 18 mio at 1.1900.

This is a variation of a bonus forward – a forward where the rate changes, depending on whether spot stays inside or breaks out of a range4.

This trade can be priced as a strip of long one-touches (long from the bank’s perspective), every month for twelve months. Our assumptions:

  • The notional of each one-touch is USD 1.98 mio – 11 big figures (1.30-1.19) on GBP 18 mio;
    • Also, the notionals are equally distributed.
    • The one-touches deliver at end-of-month, and expire two business days before month-end;
    • The one-touches are all pay-at-maturity;
    • We’re going to use market data from October 6th, the day before the plunge.

Estimating the delta gap

One nasty feature of barrier (and touch) options is that their delta changes dramatically when you get close to the barrier: in this case, it goes to zero, because the options change from one-touch options to guaranteed USD cashflows with no FX risk5

From the bank’s point of view, these options give the bank a short cable delta position. Simply put: if cable goes down to 1.19, the bank makes quite a lot of money (assuming they left the position unhedged, which in practice wouldn’t happen); if cable doesn’t go down, or goes down but doesn’t make it to 1.19, then the bank loses the premium it paid for the one-touches and doesn’t get its tens of millions of dollars. Effectively, the bank makes money on a mark-to-market basis if cable goes down, and loses if it goes up: if you squint, this a lot like just being short cable.

And as spot goes down toward the barrier, you get shorter and shorter and shorter delta from the options. In practice, a responsible risk manager isn’t going to leave that risk un-hedged – they’ll be buying spot all the way down to hedge against a possible bounce in sterling, and generally keeping their book delta-hedged6. This is fine on the way down, because the delta smoothly grows – though the rate of growth itself grows faster and faster as spot approaches the barrier.

Then, when the barrier triggers, the delta position abruptly snaps from “short quite a lot” to “nothing”. The responsible risk manager, who’s been buying all the way down, suddenly has a lot of cable that she’s bought, and no delta from the option against it – so she needs to turn around and sell all the delta that she’s bought. The delta needs to be sold as fast as possible, and as close to the barrier level as possible, because any slippage beyond the barrier level is negative PnL for the trader.

The easiest way to do this is a stop-loss order. The options desk says to the spot desk “If 1.1900 trades, I need to sell x million pounds as fast as possible. Don’t try to hold me in or anything fancy like that; it’s a one-touch stop, if it trades there, just do it”. Normally, no-limit stop-loss orders are a poor idea because they run the risk of uncontrolled selling into liquidity holes – but when a barrier’s triggered, and the responsible risk manager needs to sell a lot of delta, it’s a sensible way to manage the position.

The question in the Sports Direct case: how big was the barrier stop-loss order?

Here are two estimates: a worst-case scenario, and a more likely scenario.

Worst Case Scenario: GBP 240 million

The worst-case scenario occurs if the cable options trader has been diligently buying all the way down to 1.1900, then immediately has to turn around and sell the lot.

If we price these trades with spot just above the barrier, then we reprice them with spot just through the barrier, then the difference between the delta at those two levels is the amount of spot that the trader will have to sell.

Pricing these options using the prevailing market data, and a standard SLV pricing model, gives a change in delta of GBP 242,031,1867. In a worst-case scenario, this is how much the cable options trader would have to sell as soon as 1.1900 traded.

Likely Scenario: GBP 85-90 million

In practice, though, the selling was likely to be a lot smaller than this.

The aim of the stop-loss selling is for the options trader to sell out all the delta they’ve bought on the way down. Because the move downward from 1.2600 to 1.1900 and beyond happened within minutes, it’s likely that the options trader didn’t buy any extra delta below 1.2600, and only had to sell out the amount they’d bought before the plunge started.

Pricing the trades as of October 6th, with spot way up at 1.2600, the delta on the trade (smile delta, if you’re wondering) is about GBP 87 mio short. If the risk manager was hedging responsibly, this is how much she would have bought before the plunge.

Then, when the barrier was abruptly triggered, the trader would only have needed to re-sell GBP 85-90 million to clear out the delta hedges from the Sports Direct trade.

Conclusion

Depending on their hedging strategy, in the early hours of October 7th, the bank that took the other side of Sports Direct’s ill-fated hedge book would have had to sell GBP 85-90 million in a likely scenario, or GBP 240 mio in a worst-case scenario, on a no-limit stop-loss basis as soon as GBPUSD traded at 1.1900.

Whether the smaller or larger number is closer to reality, this would have been deeply disruptive to the cable market. The FX “witching hour” (after New York goes home, and just as Tokyo and Singapore and Sydney are having their morning coffee) has the thinnest liquidity of any time of day, and liquidity providers (automated or manual) would have been withdrawing quotes in the face of a market that had already plunged seven big figures.

It’s plausible (though impossible to prove without trading records) that this stop-loss order contributed to the final capitulation down to 1.1378 1.1500 1.1491, but GBP was already running out of control by the time this order hit the market; at the risk of descending into cliché, this order didn’t light the match; it added fuel to a garbage fire that was already roaring.

  1. FX market vernacular owes a lot to Cockney rhyming slang. GBPUSD -> “cable” (for the old transatlantic cable between London and New York -> “Betty Grable” (because why not?) -> “Betty”. Confession time: the first time I heard GBPUSD called “Betty” I thought it was a reference to Elizabeth II on the banknotes; this is one of those rare times when the real explanation for something is far more interesting than first imagined.
  2. The decentralized (and mostly OTC) nature of spot FX markets makes it tough to call an “official” low, and all of the above were cited as “the low” of the cable move. Bloomberg’s composite quote feed saw a low of 1.1841, but it definitely traded below there. Icap’s EBS platform saw a low traded price of 1.1938, but for historical reasons, EBS is not the biggest or most active trading venue for pounds. Reuters Dealing, the traditional home of cable, initially reported 1.1378 as the low trade; that trade was later busted, and the new reported low was 1.1491 in small size, with 1.1500 being the low in “market size” (i.e. multiple trades occurred at that level, for a total of more than GBP 5 mio notional).
  3. GBP 15 mio @ 1.19 = USD 17.85mio. One pip on GBP 1 mio = USD 100 of PnL; 1100 pips on GBP x mio = USD 17.85 mio; x = GBP 162 mio. I’m assuming they’re valuing their hedge off 1.30 vs 1.19, rather than exactly marking the options to market.
  4. They might also have been using a “smart forward”, where the customer’s long an option initially instead of a forward, but the trade again knocks into a forward if the barrier gets hit. The end result doesn’t change.
  5. To be really picky: USD cashflows can have FX risk if you’re not accounting in USD and you choose to manage your own translation risk. We’ve assumed the bank is accounting in USD.
  6. This is why it’s wrong to say “if Sports Direct lost GBP15mio, the bank’s exotics traders must have made GBP15mio”. The exotics desk is long a huge chunk of sterling against the one-touch option – enough that if the barrier does trigger, they’ll have lost close to GBP 15 mio that will be offset by the payout from the touch. The absolute worst-case scenario, as you can probably guess, is that spot goes down to 1.1901 but never triggers the barrier, inflicting huge losses on the delta hedge with no offsetting gain from the one-touch payout. This happened to me a lot. It’s not fun.
  7. This figure, it should be noted, is overly precise: realistically the trader would probably enter a stoploss order for GBP 240 mio.
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Notes on “The Party Decides”

“The Party Decides: Presidential Nominations Before and After Reform” got quite a run during the 2016 US presidential primary season – mostly being trotted out to justify why the Republican Party would exert its dominance over the primary process and stop Donald Trump from getting up. That… well, that didn’t go so well, did it?

Now that I’ve finished the book project (of which more later), I decided to pick up The Party Decides to see how well it held up after Trump. Some bits haven’t held up well: 


…while other parts have been a pretty cogent insight into the party-political process in the USA. I’m only about ten percent into it, but if you don’t mind the academic tone, it’s a pretty good read.

I’ll probably have more to say about this in future posts (and maybe it’ll fit into a tweet – the only reason this is a blog post is because it was too big for a tweetstorm), but there’s one passage I’m finding particularly interesting: 

In the politician-centred theory of parties, politicians are the key decision-makers. They organize campaigns, take positions on issues, and create service organizations to help them. Activists may, in [political scientist John] Aldrich’s variant of politician-centred parties, pressure candidates, but the candidates remain the “actual leaders” of the party. 

But in our group-centered theory, the party consists of groups whose aim is to get policy out of government. Acting as a coalition, groups decide which candidates to nominate for office and what positions they want them to take on issues. As full-time professionals, officeholders are often the most visible members of the party, but, to use Schattschneider’s phrase, groups are the owners of the party. 

In America, this seems to hold up – but in Australia’s parliamentary system, the exact opposite seems to hold: politicians hold much more sway over the party system, mostly because they’ve all started their own.

Just in the last few years Australia’s had Nick Xenophon, Jacqui Lambie, Pauline Hanson, Derryn Hinch, Glenn Lazarus, John Madigan, Bob Katter, and the Clive Palmer Experience Psychedelic Love Train Circus Party all launching self-titled parties that are pretty obviously reflections of a strongly politican-centric party theory. (You could easily stretch the definition to include the Christian Democrats under Fred Nile’s banner, and the Rise Up Australia Party with Danny Nalliah as its figurehead.)

The intense factional politics in the two major Australian parties (Liberal and Labor) are more reflective of a Party-Decides-style group-centred political theory, but it’s interesting that the ease of getting third parties onto the ballot in Australia (especially in the Senate) seems to attract a class of personality-driven politics that doesn’t really exist in America.

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40-Times-Leveraged Short Volatility Trade Goes Horrifically Wrong For Everyone Involved

…or, Managing and Mitigating the 2014 CNH FX TARF blowup

(Author’s note: I wrote this a year or so back for a few friends on Finance Twitter who wanted to know what FX TARFs were and what effect the huge vol overhang from USDCNH TARFs would have on the spot market. I figured that the shenanigans in USDCNY yesterday made it an appropriate time to dig this up and republish it for a wider audience. Onward…)

In 1985, it was CHF-denominated loans to Aussie farmers. In 1998, it was USDIDR cross-currency swaps with Indonesian noodle makers. In 2008, it was USDKRW KIKO options to Korean corporates and PRDCs to Japanese investors. In 2014, the FX blowup du jour is USDCNH European-knock-in target redemption forwards (EKI TARFs): SME and wealth management clients across Asia made gargantuan, leveraged, unfunded bets that the PBOC would continue to manage the CNY for a slow appreciation, and were caught long-and-wrong when the trend turned in February of this year.

Your instinctive reaction might be “if the customers are losing, the exotics books on the other side must be having a good time” – but you’d be mostly wrong. When TARFs go wrong, they can go wrong in all sorts of unexpected ways: imperfect hedging; counterparty risk; and collateral risk among them 1; and most of those are bad news for both the bank’s exotics book and any smaller banks that might have back-to-backed the trade along the way.

The trades in question are strips of leveraged knock-in forwards with an autocall feature 2. The typical pitch runs something like this: Continue reading

  1. Also there’s the risk that the regulators will storm in and fine you and shut your lucrative TARF business down, which has happened to four banks in Taiwan as I write this.
  2.  They’re also not a million miles from the “5/30 swap” 17×-leveraged-shortdate-low-delta-spread-option trades that blew up P&G back in 1995. If everything else from the 90s is coming back, I’m thinking it’s time for some opportunistic distressed-asset trades in flannel shirts and X-Files VHS tapes.
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What’s mine is yours; what’s yours is mined

(I was going to turn this into a tweetstorm, but it’s a bit over the line for what would be a reasonable-length tweetstorm and also I am an old fart who thinks tweetstorming is unwieldy. Am I the only one who thinks tweetstorms are kind of annoying? Apparently I am.)

The big news in bitcoin-land today is the nine-figure-USD evaporation of the Mycoin exchange in Hong Kong (the SCMP article is paywalled but also worth a read) which turned out to have been a ponzi scheme. Mycoin ran a small BTC exchange, but their main business was selling bitcoin mining contracts: buy HKD 400,000 worth of mining capacity, the pitch ran, and you’d make HKD 1 million within a few months as the miners threw off bitcoin. When you pitch it like that, it’s pretty obviously a ponzi. 

But the idea of “mining contracts” is very well established in bitcoin-land. Googling “bitcoin mining contracts” gets you a lot of perfectly reputable-looking businesses offering “invest now; get a stream of cash later”. And the idea is somewhat sensible on the face of it: you pay $x upfront, in return for a stream of cash valued at $y (and hopefully y > x), and at the end of the contract you have a thing with residual value $z ≈ 0. 

That’s not the most insane thing in the world; it’s not a million miles from an industrial leasing business. But with an industrial leasing business, you have actual cars and heavy vehicles and machines and such, with actual measurable depreciation. With a Bitcoin mining contract, you just have a black box: BTC goes in, BTC comes out a few weeks later, and the stream of BTC tapers off as the difficulty increases. There are a lot of places an unscrupulous “mining contract” operator could either siphon cash out, or just fail to mine entirely and just pay users back out of their principal… until the principal runs out.

The question, then, is how (or even if) you can verify that there’s actual mining being done behind a given mining contract. Photos of rack-mount servers with an arrow pointing to them saying “this one is yours” are useless, obviously. A ticker on the company’s website saying “this many hashes per second!” doesn’t have to be real data. Even the bitcoin payouts don’t make it real. 

And really, if these bitcoin miners existed and were NPV-profitable, they wouldn’t be being leased out; they’d be kept by the owners and milked until it wasn’t economical to run them any more. You don’t see Hertz offering to sub-lease its rental-car fleet to people  and let them keep the profits.

Maybe it’s time for “bitcoin mining contract” to be filed next to “high-yield investment plan” in the “synonyms for ponzi scheme” file… along with a whole lot of other bitcoin lexicon.

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A staggering failure of Economics 101

It’s not often that you find out about developments in the Aussie housing market from Canadian ex-finance-ministers, but Garth Turner ran an interesting piece yesterday about Senator Nick Xenophon’s proposals to make housing “more affordable”. In short, he says “we tried that and it backfired”: 

I confess. Once I thought like you. I even supported realtors years ago when they cooked up this scheme to allow kids to dip into their retirement funds to buy a first home. At the time we were in a steep recession with real estate plunging and the economy in a funk. So, I voted in our Parliament for a temporary program to create the Home Buyer’s Plan in order to stabilize the market and try to revitalize the home-building business. It worked, kinda. Then subsequent governments (a) made the plan permanent and (b) doubled the amount people can suck out of their registered savings.


Now, Nick, we’re reaping the bitter harvest sown when that dumbass legislation passed. Allowing first-time buyers to remove tax-free money to buy a modest home they could not otherwise afford, then restore it to their long-term retirement savings makes perfect sense in theory. In practice and experience, just the opposite.

Meanwhile in San Francisco, the Board of Supervisors is proposing a Singapore-style flipper tax on people who sell houses within four years of buying them. The tax would range from 24% on sales within one year to 14% for sales between four and five years after the purchase. 

And back in Australia, people are fighting tooth and nail to preserve the generous “negative gearing” tax breaks that allow homeowners to tax-deduct the entirety of any losses on their investment properties (interest expenses over rental income). The negative gearing laws have been around since the mid-eighties; they’re a major reason why housing is such a popular investment in Australia; and they’re widely considered a third rail in Aussie politics.

There’s something about the housing market that makes people forget everything they learned in Econ 101. 

On first principles, if you want to reduce the price of a thing, you either need to decrease demand for the thing or increase supply of the thing. All three policy measures up the top of this post would do the exact opposite, no matter how well-intentioned they are. 

First: letting people tap their retirement funds to pay for a house. This typically gets dressed up as a “benefit for first homeowners”, but here’s what happens: if all first home buyers can tap their retirement funds, all of them will. And they won’t just tap the funds; they’ll use them as part of their 20% deposit, letting them leverage up the money four times. 

End result: the demand for houses increases (because people can pay more for them), but the supply doesn’t change. So prices go up, and homebuyers end up in more debt than they would have had without the policy change. (First-home-buyers’ grants, occasionally nicknamed “first-home-sellers’ grants”, have the same end result.) 

Second: flipper taxes. Again, the legislators have forgotten that if you want to bring house prices down, you need to encourage sellers. Flipper taxes do the opposite: they motivate potential sellers to keep their houses off the market until they reach the five-year mark, but they don’t do anything to stop buyers. 

Singapore’s experience with a flipper tax is worth examining. They introduced the “ABSD” tax in 2011, and jacked up the rate in January 2013. Since 2011, residential house prices have gone up, not down; and industrial property prices skyrocketed because the flip tax only covered residential property. 

Third: negative gearing and other tax incentives for homeowners. By now, you can probably figure this out yourself: tax incentives encourage people to buy; and more people buying means prices go up. 

Home ownership is not necessarily a bad thing. But policy-makers across the world seem to have a blind spot when it comes to house price policy, and they love implementing policies that are dressed up as “keeping houses affordable” but end up making houses unaffordable. Someone with an Econ 101-grade education should probably step in at some point and explain the unintended consequences of these policies. 

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Blast you Chris Hayes why must you be so reasonable

When I found out Chris Hayes was interviewing Michael Lewis on his show tonight, and they were going to talk about Lewis’s controversial new book Flash Boys, I was jazzed – I was ready to unleash hell on them for peddling alarmist rubbish and scaring people away from equity markets. (It’s a slow Wednesday night, what else am I going to do?)

But no. The interview was sensible (though can we stop using the word “rigging”?). They even managed to agree that the real target of HFT is large investors – mutual funds, hedge funds, pension funds – rather than “the guy in his underpants e-trading”. If you’re the guy in your underpants e-trading, you’re probably being net helped by HFT, as Felix Salmon explains, and also please put pants on.

Lewis took exception to Felix Salmon’s claim that he “queered the narrative”, creating heroes and villains – but if you think the heroes and villains of HFT are as clear-cut as Lewis makes them out to be, go read Matt Levine’s alternate take on the Flash Boys story (and then come back). 

There was only one part of the interview that really struck me as overtly wrong:

Scalping – trying to jump in front of big flows to get ahead of them, or in front of small orders to preferentially trade with them – has been around since financial markets were a bunch of dudes punting rice futures in 18th-century Osaka. (Here it is back in the day-trading days of 1995.)

For that matter, so has proximity arbitrage. Open-outcry futures traders fight for positions closer to the top step of the pit, where they can see more activity and be closer to the top step where the big brokers traditionally stand; HFT firms colocating their servers next to the exchange’s matching engines is the electronic equivalent of standing on the second-top step in the futures pit. If you bar the exchanges from offering colo space in their datacenters, the HFT firms will just bid up space in the datacenters next door instead. 

Flash Boys is a great read, an exciting story of plucky outsiders bringing down the old regime (like The New New Thing, like Moneyball, like The Blind Side, like The Big Short, you might notice a pattern here). But it seems to have turned into a policy paper for financial regulators, and if we ran the government by who can write the most interesting narrative then we’d have David Simon running the justice system and Teju Cole or Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie running immigration policy wait that might not actually be so bad. 

Here’s the video. It’s worth a watch. 

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Trading while insolvent is apparently fine if you’re a bitcoin exchange

Amid the fiasco of MtGox’s apparent collapse last night (acquisition? rebranding? god knows), some kind person leaked MtGox’s “Crisis Strategy Draft”. It’s an internal Powerpoint that appears to describe a plan for shutting down MtGox and relaunching it as “Gox” – a new, trustworthy Bitcoin exchange from the people who brought you this. And this.

And there is so much icky stuff in there.

On page 2, there’s the admission that they’ve been robbed of nearly 750,000 BTC – call it  $400 million and you’re not far off.

There’s also a couple of paragraphs arguing that if MtGox fails, it’ll destroy the public perception of Bitcoin’s worth. This seems like a tenuous argument at best, and you can come up with any number of good arguments against it – not least the fact that everyone already knows that MtGox is up the spout – but the MtGox crew seems to take it as gospel, and that leads them to a very icky strategy to revive the exchange.

The first step in their strategy – “Immediately reduce liabilities as much as possible with partners” – seems to involve making money by arbitraging the MtGox discount that they created. The rest of it is basically “shut down, rebrand, and relaunch in a month” with a low-cost platform that people will want to use… or, to put it another way, “trade our way out of insolvency”.

The Financial Assets and Liabilities slide, if it’s even remotely close to reality, should be enough reason to shut down MtGox (and maybe send the management out in handcuffs?).

The first thing I like on this slide is that they value the bitcoin deficit using the cheaper MtGox price ($160), not the broad-market price ($500-ish). The only way that valuation would be legit is if they can buy enough BTC to cover the deficit at the MtGox price – again, exploiting the discount that MtGox created through its own incompetence. (Arbing your customers – it’s the Bitcoin way!)

The exchange’s assets exceed its liabilities by somewhere around $21.5 million of actual cash. Even if you leave out the 742,000 BTC bitcoin deficit, that sounds a lot like an admission of insolvency. Is trading while insolvent as illegal in Japan as it is in the UK or Australia?

Update: a kind Redditor named pyalot has unredacted the blacked-out financials slide, and it is comedy gold. Despite some fairly enthusiastic growth assumptions, the revised gox.com would only be making $40 million a year by 2016 – so it’d still take somewhere close to ten years to dig itself out of its half-billion-dollar hole and refund all those missing bitcoins.

MtGox doesn’t deserve to be acquired, bailed out, or saved. It’s a disaster. It needs to be liquidated.

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Bad Ideas: “Be A Stockbroker!”, Sez SGX

The SGX wants Singaporeans to quit their jobs and become stockbrokers

Singapore Exchange (SGX) is partnering NTUC’s e2i (Employment and Employability Institute) to draw more Singaporeans to the stockbroking profession and equip new joiners with the necessary skills.

“A career as a licensed broker offers Singaporeans the opportunity to be an entrepreneur, a financial professional and a front-liner in the exciting world of markets and investments.” … said Lynn Gaspar, Senior Vice President of SGX who oversees SGX Academy.

Never mind that stockbroking as a career is slowly being destroyed by online discount brokers (on the execution side) and independent financial advisors or RIAs (on the advice side). 

Nobody in their right mind would pay 30 or 40 bps to trade Singaporean stocks through some dude on the other end of a phone line when they can pay 18bps at Standard Chartered or 8bps at Interactive Brokers. (Or is that just me? Do people actually do this? Has Singapore not had its Stratton Oakmont to sour people on cold-calling brokers yet?)

You can excuse the NTUC for not knowing this, but the SGX should know this. 

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JRE Sells Out: Snugg iPad Mini Retina Case

So the fine folks at TheSnugg.com emailed me and asked me if I’d like to review one of their iPad Mini cases. I said yes; they sent me a fetching one of these – the iPad mini Retina Leather Case – and I wore it around on my iPad for a week. 

If you’re the sort of person who wants to wear a case on your iPad, the Snugg cases are pretty great. They’re rock-solid, stitched nicely, made of decent leather and fabric both inside and out. They’re built rock-solid, and the elastic hand-strap makes it easier to hold the cased iPad up while you’re reading. 

It’s got all the usual bells and whistles an iPad case should have – the flat-on-the-desk or propped-up-for-TV configurations, magnetic sleep/wake when you close or open the case and cutouts for the speakers and microphones (including the new dual noise-cancelling microphones in the Retina mini – watch out if you’ve bought yourself a Retina mini and use a case that’s not designed for it). 

One thing I particularly like is their height when they’re in “desk mode”. The iPad Smart Cover (my usual cover of choice) leaves the iPad almost flat against the desk, and leaves you hunched over it while you’re typing;  the Snugg case lifts it up a little higher, making it easier to type on and a bit less of a strain to use. Heavy iPad typists will probably like this case a lot. 

If you’re a light typist, or you only use your iPad for reading, though, you’ll probably be wondering why you need a case at all – and not unjustifiably. Any case – even the slimline Apple cases – is going to make your svelte iPad significantly thicker and heavier, making it harder to hold up to read, heavier to tote around in your backpack, and generally a lot less practical than it was designed to be. 

So that’s the tradeoff you make with any case. But honestly, if you’re going to make that tradeoff – and if you’re a heavy iPad user, and your use skews toward writing instead of reading – you’re probably going to like the Snugg case. (Plus, at $25 – it’s on sale right now! – it’s cheaper than Apple’s cases and sturdier than the no-name off-brand cases you find littering the iAccessories market.)

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Tiny Robot is Disappointed by Wall Street

Jeez, it’s been quiet around here lately, hasn’t it?

Here’s some Tiny Robot for you, to break the monotony. Tiny Robot heard about a place called Wall Street, deep in Bryce Canyon National Park. This Wall Street is a deep slot canyon between two huge sandstone massifs… but there’s nobody there to help Tiny Robot with the IPO of Tiny Robot Industries.

Tiny Robot was disappointed.

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