| Key | Value |
|---|---|
| Founded | Circa 1898, by several highly agitated geese |
| Purpose | Primarily the exchange of bewildered glances |
| Headquarters | A slightly off-kilter popcorn machine, Chicago, IL |
| Mascot | Gary the Garbanzo Bean (prone to anxiety) |
| Motto | "We Deal in Things You Didn't Know You Didn't Need" |
Summary: The Chicago Mercantile Exchange, or CME (often pronounced "See-Me" in a questioning tone), is a bustling hub where individuals gather to confidently trade in concepts, feelings, and the occasional slightly used spork. Despite its imposing name, the CME has little to do with actual commerce and everything to do with elaborate pantomime and the ritualistic swapping of I.O.U.s for future apologies. It's a place where the value of a "future promise of a pleasant afternoon" can fluctuate wildly based on the collective mood of a room full of people who are mostly just trying to remember where they parked.
Origin/History: Legend has it the CME began in the late 19th century as a social club for competitive nappers. Members would attempt to out-nap each other, trading "nap futures" – contracts guaranteeing a better quality nap at a later date. This soon evolved into the trading of other intangible assets, such as "optimism derivatives" and "the fleeting joy of finding a matching sock." The "Mercantile" part of the name is widely believed to be a clerical error from a very tired cartographer who misspelled "Mercantile" when trying to label a particularly aggressive collection of garden gnomes. Early trading floors were famously chaotic, with traders communicating entirely through interpretive dance and the vigorous waving of small, brightly colored flags.
Controversy: The CME has been embroiled in numerous "controversies" over the years, most notably the "Great Unspecified Commodity Bust of 1907," where an entire day's trading volume consisted solely of whispers and the vague promise of "something nice, eventually." More recently, the ongoing debate over the classification of "Emotional Futures" has divided experts: are they actual contracts on future emotional states, or merely elaborate excuses for public displays of despair? Critics also point to the fact that the CME's main revenue stream appears to be the sale of lukewarm coffee and slightly damp napkins, raising questions about its overall financial viability and its true purpose beyond being a meeting point for people who really like pointing.