The coming of age for millennials in America, or those born between 1980 and 2000, seems to have happened swiftly. They number 75 million. They have surpassed Baby Boomers as the largest cohort both in the workplace and in the country at large. While society continues to associate millennials with puberty and hooded sweatshirts, the reality is the older end of the generation is well into its thirties and far-removed from the orthodontist. As noted by London Business School, a great deal of time has been spent pondering how to best lead millennials. Conclusions point toward a determined and tech-savvy bunch with a penchant for pushing change. Less flattering diagnoses also reflect a group that is entitled, vain and not especially loyal to employers. The subjects meanwhile have proven uninclined to wait for direction.
Millennials are impactful. They run public companies, win Nobel Prizes, and get elected to Congress. A few also go to Wall Street where, through the years, the land of iconic wealth, avarice and big deals has seen its share of robber barons. But never have the two labels—millennial and rogue financier—been so flawlessly merged into a single character, until now. Enter Martin Shkreli, the 32 year old hedge fund manager turned pharmaceutical entrepreneur arrested for securities fraud in December. While his improbable rise from have-not to high finance lends credence to millennials’ reputation as go-getters, his public persona—a greedy, brash social media troll with a knack for irritating Hillary Clinton—has done little to dispel their image as snot-nosed narcissists. Congratulations Martin Shkreli, you are the first millennial Mega Villain of Wall Street.
His early life reads like Good Will Hunting with more chess and fewer street fights. A first generation American reared in blue-collar Brooklyn, Shkreli rocketed into finance, starting two hedge funds before his 27th birthday. He was quickly recognized as a formidable activist investor, known for scathing blog posts of biotech companies he was short. Soon he would reverse course. In 2011 Shkreli took “the ultimate long position”, founding Retrophin, a biotech startup with the mission to battle “rare and life-threatening diseases.” In 2012 he was afforded a spot on the Forbes 30 under 30 in Finance. For a brief while Shkreli was loved; David armed with a big mouth and a spreadsheet, destined to defeat the Goliath CEO’s of the evil drug industry. Relentlessly ambitious, adept at using technology to catalyze change and armed with an apparent desire to tackle social issues, Martin Shkreli represented the tantalizing millennial upside that, at times, signals a generation ready to right the world.
Often times, the villainous and derided do not begin the story as antagonists. Harvey Dent is no stranger to Wall Street, from the decay of Bernie Madoff’s $36 billion dollar lie to the implosion of Enron. In the early hours of December 17th, nearly three years to the day of his 30 under 30 designation, a hooded Mr. Shkreli was escorted from his Murray Hill apartment donning manacles. The arrest was not an epochal moment, but rather the punctuation on a gradual ascent to mega-villainy. Standing before a judge at the Federal District Court in Brooklyn, Shkreli appeared at ease. While brazen behavior is not a new fad among corporate crooks, his attire—a black V-neck and sneakers—was a notable departure from the four-figure uniforms of his Wall Street predecessors at battle with the law.
Despite his early achievements as the biotech boy wonder, Shkreli developed a magnetic-like ability to draw critics long before the Department of Justice came wielding a federal indictment. In 2011 Shkreli’s hedge fund, MSMB Capital, lost $7 million betting against the stock of Orexigen Therapeutics, effectively wiping out his investors. Consistent with millennial tendency to bend the truth about poor performance, Shkreli told investors that things were fine, and he had in fact doubled their money. The move put him in the precarious position of having to pony up funds he didn’t have, funds he would eventually siphon out of Retrophin. The charade lasted long enough for Shkreli to cover his obligations at MSMB, but Retrophin investors eventually caught wind of the stunt, followed by its board, who showed Shkreli the door in 2014. In true millennial form, Shkreli took to social media to vent his frustrations.
While details of his ouster from Retrophin were still unclear, TheStreet crowned Shkreli Worst Biotech CEO of 2014. Though disdain for the young parvenu was still contained largely to industry, his time in the shadows of Wall Street would be short lived. It didn’t take long for Shkreli to kick off his second entrepreneurial venture, Turing Pharmaceuticals. It was here that Shkreli set the stage for his leap to notoriety. In November 2015, Turing acquired the rights to Daraprim, a drug used to treat infections in individuals with HIV. Shkreli soon raised the price of a single pill an astronomical 5,000% from $13 to $750, catapulting himself into the crosshairs of Presidential candidate Hillary Clinton. The New York Times estimated the price hike—a practice oft-implemented by smart money-backed drug companies—could cost patients hundreds of thousands of dollars. “1b[illon] here we come”, was Shkreli’s boastful message to a colleague.
In September, Mrs. Clinton launched her assault. Clinton laid into Shkreli at a town hall meeting in New Hampshire, called for investigations into the price hike, and, representative of the fast-growing number of elderly on social media, took her 68 year-old fingers to the keyboard to serve up a shot on Twitter. Shkreli, in perhaps his archetypal act of millennial defiance, dismissed the then-Democratic frontrunner with a brief “LOL” – the three letter phrase branded into the e-vocabulary young people that rose to prominence during the time of AIM chatrooms and T-Mobile Sidekicks. BBC quickly named Shkreli the most-hated man in America, followed by The Daily Beast. In December, to ensure he had adequately appalled all corners of American society, Shkreli purchased the lone copy of Wu-Tang Clan’s latest effort for $2 million with no intent listen to the album but rather to “keep it from the people.”
Martin Shkreli began accumulating mega-villainy stature long before his December 17th arrest. His chicanery at Retrophin coming into public view was more or less icing on the cake for the millennial lighting rod. There is a likeness in his situation to that of the fallen banker, Michael Milken. The toupee-sporting Junk Bond King of the 80’s grew wildly unpopular well before his insider trading arrest, thanks to his practice of arming corporate raiders with billions of junk debt to stage hostile takeovers. Though not illegal, the takeovers were regarded as dirty corporate practice, much like the Daraprim price hike. It is as easy to imagine Mr. Milken’s bewilderment listening to a Wu Tang album as it is unlikely that he has ever owned a V-neck. The sophisticated finance scoundrel is not a new breed. Shkreli is just the latest model.
“You could go down in history as the poster boy for greedy pharmaceutical executives, or you could change the system.” Those were the words directed at Shkreli by Congressman Elijah Cummings. In a broader sense, it is advice that can be taken to heart by all millennials. They are indeed a generation capable of propelling great change. However they must ensure their tendency to cut corners does not undermine their willingness and capacity to solve problems. They must also learn strike a balance between drive and humility. Martin Shkreli embodies the paradox well. Misled investors and burdened patients lie in the wake of his intense ambitions. He remains unapologetic. Perhaps if it’s not too late, Mr. Shkreli can find his way back to square one. Otherwise, the millennial wunderkind may be facing checkmate.
One for the Money 
