Tagged: SNAP

Snapped

SNAP broke yesterday. I’ll explain two reasons why.

Yes, the company blew the quarter. Dramatic swings in guidance don’t instill joy.

But the losses occurred before anybody talked about them.  SNAP closed Monday at $22.47 and opened Tuesday for trading at $14.49 and closed at $12.79.

It lost 36% when most couldn’t trade it and shed just $1.30 during official market hours.

Illustration 135866583 © Jm10 | Dreamstime.com

How is that fair?

Regulations are meant to promote a free, fair and open stock market. I think premarket trading should be prohibited because it’s not a level playing field.

Who’s using it? Big institutions with direct access to brokers who operate the markets running around the clock. Hedge funds could dump shares through a prime broker, which instantly sells via so-called dark pools.

And the hedge funds could buy puts – and leverage them – on a whole basket including the stock they dumped, peers, ETFs, indices.  All outside market hours.

Something unfair also happens DURING market hours. I’ll explain with my own experience as a retail trader using our decision-support platform, Market Structure EDGE.

It’s not that my trade was unfair.  I understand market structure, including how to use volatility, trade-size, liquidity and stock orders to best effect.  I made money on the trade.

But it’s instructive for public companies, traders, investors.

I sold 50 shares of NXST. Small trade, with a reasonable return. I pay a modest commission at Interactive Brokers to observe how trades execute.

Most times I buy and sell 100 or fewer shares, often 95 or 99. The average trade-size in the market is less than 100 shares so I don’t want to be an outlier. And you’re looking for blocks? Forget it. The market is algorithmic.

And I know the rules require a market order, one accepting the best offer to sell, to execute immediately at the best price if it’s 100 or fewer shares.

Stay with me – there’s a vital point.

NXST trades about $7,300 at a time (a little under 50 shares), the reason for my trade-size. And it’s 2.1% volatile daily. Since it was up 2% during the day, I knew it was at the top of the daily statistical probability, good time to sell.

I checked the bid/ask spread – the gap between the best bid to buy and offer to sell.  Bid was $176.01, offer was $176.25. A spread of $0.25. That’s big for a liquid stock.

So I used a marketable limit order – I picked a spot between them, aiming to the lower side to improve the chance it filled: $176.05. I was wanting to leave.

The trade sat there for a bit, and then filled.  I checked. It split into two pieces, 45 shares at “Island,” which is Instinet, the oldest Electronic Communications Network, now owned by Nomura. I paid a commission of $0.19.

And the other piece, five shares, also executed at Instinet at the same price.  And I paid $1.02 in commission. For five shares!

What the hell happened? 

This is how the ecosystem works.  And this rapid action can smash swaths of shareholder value, foster wild and violent market swings – especially during options-expirations (yesterday was Counterparty Tuesday, when banks square monthly derivatives books, and it was a tug-of-war) – and, sometimes, work masterfully.

It’s market structure.

My broker sent the trade to Instinet, determining by pinging that undisplayed shares there would fill it.

And one or more Fast Traders hit and cancelled to take a piece of it, permitting my broker to charge me two commissions, one on five shares, another on 45 shares.

And now my one trade became ammo for two. The going rate at stock exchanges for a trade that sets the best offer is around $0.25 per hundred shares – the exact spread in NXST.

Yes, that’s right. Exchanges PAY traders to set prices. I traded 50 shares, but since the order split, it could become the best national offer two places simultaneously, generating that high frequency trader about $0.15.

What’s more, my order originated as a retail trade, qualifying for Retail Liquidity Programs at stock exchanges that pay an additional $0.03.

So my intermediary, Interactive Brokers, made $1.21. Some high-frequency trader probably made another $0.18 for breaking the trade up and buying and selling it at the same price two places. Zero risk for an $0.18 return.

Do that 100,000 times, it’s big, risk-free money.

It didn’t cost me much. But suppose it was 500,000 shares or five million?  Every trade navigates this maze, public companies and investors, getting picked and pecked.

Not only do costs mount for moving any order of size but the market BECOMES this maze. Its purpose disappears into the machination of pennies. Oftentimes it’s tenths of pennies in liquid stocks.

And you’re telling your story, spending on ESG reports, a total approaching $10 billion for public companies complying with rules to inform investors.

And the market is the mass pursuit of pennies.  Yes, there are investors. But everybody endures this withering barrage that inflates on the way up, deflates on the way down.

And it’s wrong that the mechanics of the market devolve its form into the intermediated death of a thousand cuts. Is anyone going to do anything about it?

Extended Chaos

See this photo?  Winter Carnival in Steamboat Springs. The Old West. Sort of. People ride shovels on snow down main street behind horses.

Courtesy Karen Quast. 2022 Steamboat Winter Carnival.

Now. What the hell is happening in extended-hours trading? Could be a shovel ride.

You might’ve forgotten with the pace of news and markets, but during Q4 2021 earnings, SNAP lost 24% of its value by market-close, then soared 62% in the hour and a half after.

Facebook – Meta Platforms (strange to brand as something nonexistent) – lost $235 billion of market cap after the market closed.

Amazon was down 8% at the close, then rose 18% afterward.  Market cap, $1.5T.

What’s going on?

Let me tell you a story. Settle in.

Once there was a buttonwood tree in New York City and stockbrokers would gather to trade there. In 1792 the brokers formed the NYSE.  To trade securities listed at the NYSE, you had to be a member.

Time passed. It worked. In 1929, the stock market blew up.

The government flexed. The Constitution authorizes no intervention in securities markets, but people were economically panicked.  Congress passed the Securities Acts of 1933 and 1934, taking control. Stuff got complicated.

In 1975, with inflation soaring and a war in Asia ending badly (déjà vu), Congress decided the stock market was a vital national interest and should be a System.

They passed the National Market System amendments to the Securities Acts after finding that new data technology could mean more efficient and effective market operations.

So Congress, pursuing the nebulous “public interest,” decided it must decree fair competition among brokers, exchanges, and other markets.

And they said opportunity should exist for trades to execute without the middleman, the broker-dealer or exchange – rejecting the buttonwood model.

With me still? 

I’m explaining how we ended up with extended-hours trading, and why it bucks like a bronc. We’re not there yet. 

In 1971, the National Association of Securities Dealers launched an automated quotation system. That became the Nasdaq.

In the 1990s, computerized trading systems outside the stock markets – as Congress envisaged – sprang up. No broker-dealers. No middlemen (save the software).

They demolished stock markets, taking more than half of all trading.

They were firms like Island, Brut, Archipelago, Instinet (the oldest, from 1969). They weren’t stock exchanges, weren’t brokers.  They were software companies matching buyers and sellers.

Ingenious, frankly. The exchanges cried foul.

The SEC intervened with a set of rules forcing these so-called Electronic Communications Networks (ECNs) to become broker-dealers.

And extended-hours trading began.

Why?

Because exchanges had to display ECN prices, and ECNs had to become brokers. So exchanges would win the price business, and ECNs would win the size business.

By the way, the exchanges bought the ECNs and incorporated the technology. The Nasdaq runs on vestiges of Brut and Island, the NYSE on Arca – Archipelago.  Instinet is owned by Nomura.

In 2005, the SEC fulfilled the vision of Congress from 1975, imposing Regulation National Market System – Reg NMS. That’s the rule running the stock market today, with its 17 exchanges and about 34 “dark pools,” which are ATS’s.  Latter-day ECNs.

Reg NMS links all markets, removes the differences in listing one place versus another, shares all prices and all data, and mandates trading at the best systemwide price.

But rules preceding Reg NMS for ATS’s didn’t proscribe extended-hours trading.

The irony? Congress wanted to cut out the middleman, the broker and exchange, and instead ALL trading is intermediated. It might be the craziest thing in human history outside emergency powers.

Plus, the rise of Passive Investment means vast sums need reference prices – a set price each day – to comply with the Investment Company Act of 1940 (another rule).  So exchanges persist with a 4p ET close.

But Exchange Traded Funds (ETFs) match off-market in blocks – and the parties running those trades are the same operating dark pools (ATS’s), behind most derivatives.

And there you have it.  Exchanges create prices for “40 Act” funds at 4p ET. And broker-dealers trade stuff other times, getting ever bigger.  Gyrating prices when the Stock Market is closed.

It’s now at times the tail wagging the dog.  It’s incongruous if the aim of the legislation behind Reg NMS is a free, fair, regulated, orderly, connected market.

That’s your answer.

Stocks gallop after the market closes because rules have fostered an arbitrage trade between market hours, and after-hours. The reason for extended-hours chaos is rules bifurcating the stock market into prices for thee but not for me.

The fix? I think it’s wrong for a “market system” to own the price of anything.  Stores for stocks should be no different than grocery stores – stocking what they wish and offering prices and supply.

How do we change it? Fix government powers. The SEC owns the market. Not us.