'A race that's never over.' (stock brokers)

• Author: Donsky, Martin

`A RACE THAT'S NEVER OVER'

Look, see these fingers," says Holly Hay, throwing up her hands, palms inward. "I never chewed my fingers before I went into production."

Production. That's what they call it. Once upon a time, it was known as selling, as in stocks, bonds, mutual funds, CDs and other "investment products."

Holly Hay is a new kid on the production line. Just 25, she started selling full time last March, after graduating from Concord College in Athens, W.Va., and getting her securities license. She is one of five brokers in the Charlotte office of Scott & Stringfellow, a Richmond, Va.-based brokerage intent on expanding its presence in North Carolina.

She's no stock jockey - a broker who spends all day on the phone talking to strangers, peddling the sure-fire stock that is certain to double in price in just one month. (That's the stock that too often tanks the day after you buy it.)

"I wouldn't buy anything from somebody who called me on the phone, so why should I expect somebody to buy something from me?" she says.

She does spend her day on the telephone, and she does talk to strangers. But she's satisfied if she gets through to a prospect, talks about money management and elicits a promise to chat again in a few weeks. She puts up with the frustration that comes when her cold-calls generate a thanks-but-the-boss-isn't-interested response because she's convinced she will succeed.

"I understand money," she says, "and a lot of people don't. It's a talent, like being able to paint or sing."

She knows all the investment buzzwords and has some clients who regularly trade options, a risky investment ploy (for both client and broker) that resembles shooting the dice at a Las Vegas craps table.

But most of her 40 clients are small-time investors who call once or twice a week to say hello and check on their investments. That's fine with Hay. She's intent on developing relationships with clients, painstakingly explaining to elderly investors the merits of tax-exempt bonds or conducting community-college seminars for novice investors.

She is intent on making it in what always has been a clubby man's world. She avoids cold-calling at night because "the wife always asks me, `Who are you, and why do you want to speak to my husband?'" Nor is she keen on after-work R&R with fellow brokers. "Somebody always asks me, `Whose assistant are you?'" she explains.

She doubts she'll make $20,000 this year, but she adds, "I'm still here. You spend your first year trying not to wash out."

The real test will come soon. Scott & Stringfellow pays Hay a monthly salary that declines each quarter until she is on her own. Hay's D-day is Feb. 1.

She is well-aware of that. Taking a call from a friend the other day, she talked for a few minutes but then cut him off. "I've got to roll, David. I'm only talking to people who have money."

Just about everybody Claude Abernethy talks to has money. He's one reason why.

He is 62 - "I'm going to be here doing this until the Lord retires me," he says - and has been trading securities for 38 years.

He has 1,176 customers who, collectively, have entrusted him with about $77 million. He generated $1.4 million in...