Dear Visitor,

This website is nothing fancy, but then, I’m not really a fancy guy.

I wrote this book. I wrote it because I really hated my job at the time and it was a soothing experience for me, like polishing off an entire box of Ferrero Rochers. It’s a revenge fantasy, if you will, though not as gory as Kill Bill. I know you’re a busy person whipping out your perfectly formatted spreadsheets, but BANK is a light read: some steamy boardroom sex, some funny parts, some pointless Freudian psychoanalysis. I’m kidding about that last bit, sort of. Anyway, I’m hoping that you’ll read it because, see, even though we probably don’t know each other, and our paths will never cross, I’m sensing that you might need some empathy in your life. Somebody to understand you when you’re experiencing those mornings when it doesn’t seem such a silly thing to hurl yourself down the stairs and break both legs just so you won’t have to stumble into your office.

If you like it, then the idea is that you’ll rave about it to all your friends and colleagues, and they’ll all run out to buy the book, and next thing you know I’ll be on Oprah in my black turtleneck and wire-rimmed glasses and the whole world is going to be pelting me with truffles.

Yours Truly,