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244 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1997
But in his memoir, Bloomberg by Bloomberg, Bloomberg wrote that he “traveled with a big expense account, I had a girlfriend in every city”. The original version of the book published in 1997 also said that a reason his marriage fell apart was because “I like to go out and party”, according to news reports from the time. When the book was reissued ahead of the 2020 presidential election, that line was
altered.
This breakdown in an accepted basis of fact has coincided with the rise in partisan media and the segregation, by political beliefs, of the American public. Pundits talk past one another, and people gravitate to news outlets that will confirm their preexisting beliefs — and the more bombastic the pundits, the more popular they are, and the more money their employers make. For nearly all of history, from Socrates to Cronkite, news was written, organized, and desseminated by the educated and wealthy. People didn't always like the news, but they mostly believed what they were hearing and reading. They trusted news organizations to deliver facts and truths. That world is gone.
— From Bloomberg by Bloomberg, by Michael Bloomberg, p. 110.
... I still think the perfect day is one in which I’m hopelessly overscheduled. Exercise early in the morning and get to work by 7:00 a.m.; a series of rushed meetings; phone call after phone call; e-mails demanding a reply; a hurried business lunch between myriad meetings to solve firm, personnel, financial, and policy problems; perhaps give an interview to a news outlet about a Bloomberg Philanthropies initiative; constantly welcome visiting clients; participate in a Q&A at a client’s big event; make a speech about one of the issues that our foundation is working on; an early dinner event with customers or for a charitable organization we support, followed by a second dinner with friends (where I actually get a chance to stop talking and eat); fall into bed, exhausted but satisfied with the day’s accomplishments, maybe trying to make a dent in the magazines piled up on the nightstand.