ABSTRACT
Patel? Puck you. Puckin' Shiva handed him a million dollars, told him "sign the deal," he wouldn't sign. And Vishnu, too. Into the bargain. Puck that, john. You know your business, I know mine.
So Patels are hard to sell real estate to. You buy them a beer, whisper Glengarry Glen Ross, and they smell swamp instead of sun and surf They work hard, eat cheap, live ten to a room, stash their savings under futons in Queens, and before you know it they own half of Hoboken. You say, where's the sweet gullibility that made this nation great?
