Friday’s Fed speech by Chair Powell is shaping up to be the blockbuster event of the macro calendar, a spectacle where a chair swivels and markets pretend to be students listening intently. Analysts warn the tone could swing between hawkish, dovish, or whatever helps hedge funds justify exuberant coffee orders.

Scenario one imagines Powell hinting at more rate hikes, causing traders to practice their we are fine faces while the tape machine clicks. The room pretends to believe him while the screens stay stubbornly green.

Scenario two imagines a pause and perhaps a pivot, prompting a chorus of buy the dip memes across trading desks. The crowd pretends they understand what data actually says.

Scenario three imagines staying data dependent, offering no clear path, which is exactly what companies promise when they can’t decide on lunch. The era of inflation, wage growth, and supply chains is punctuated by footnotes and a hundred what-ifs.

Markets want clarity, Powell wants dignity, and the microphones want a sound bite. The crowd nods as if they heard a policy memo.

Meanwhile, reporters jockey for the second question, because the first question always asks about future rate hikes. The room ushers in a chorus of polite questions and mugged enthusiasm.

Powell’s smile has become a research instrument, as investors try to gauge sincerity by studying the tilt of his jaw. Even the most seasoned traders measure tone like a temperature reading.

The press conference might feature a chorus of polite nods and a single question about inflation, which Powell surprisingly answers with a chart of cats. The crowd laughs nervously as the cat chart wobbles.

Traders will watch every eyebrow raise and inhale as signals, treating subtle facial cues as policy clues. In the end, the market will pretend the signal was loud and clear.

If you listen closely, the speech will be followed by a campaign ad for coffee, while listeners reach for ‘best noise-canceling headphones’ to ignore the static of mixed signals. Analysts will pretend the headphones are a secret tool for price discovery.

Analysts will scan the minutes and the charts, while emails flood in with recommendations to buy a ‘top-rated desk chair’ for comfort during long press conferences. Some investors will insist the chair actually chairs the bull market.

Officials insist the economy is strong, but their forecasts look like weather apps. Everyone pretends to trust the radar while hunches steer the ship.

If Powell surprises with a hawkish stance, markets will react faster than a ticker tape at a Broadway curtain call. The crowd will applaud with one hand while the other checks a chart on their smartwatch.

If he pauses, the rally could last as long as a lullaby in a board room. Meanwhile, interns practice dramatic sighs for effect.

If he communicates uncertainty, volatility will become the new black, and risk parity will dress up as a rodeo clown. The equity desk asks for a bigger cushion and a bigger pen.

The phrase data dependent will be repeated until it loses meaning, at which point traders pretend to understand anyway. In the cafe, baristas scribble graphs on napkins.

The whiteboard with arrows and circles becomes a mood board for speculation. Even the coffee machine seems to draft a forecast.

Traders will digest the speech like a grocery list, crossing out items as prices move. By late afternoon the list reads like a prophecy and a dare.

The FAQ section will be the real drama, with questions about equilibrium aftershocks and pastry budgets. Editors will call it monetarist theater.

By the end, the market will have learned nothing and will proceed to react as if the forecast itself is a weather system. The punchline is that the forecast is weather.

Whatever happens, Friday will be another reminder that central banking is the only job where the calendar is more dramatic than the policy.

And if nothing else, Powell will prove once again that a chair can pivot, posture, and pause with equal poise.