According to anonymousman: Banking is fucking brutal. I knew
this after my internship, but I didn't care. I wanted money. I wanted respect.
I wanted to be a somebody in the eyes of myself and others. But most of all, I
wanted money. Why? Because money is freedom. Money means I can wear what I
want, live where I want, go where I want, eat what I want, be who I want. Money
would make me happy. Right? Well... not exactly I'm afraid. In fact, money
didn't seem to make any of the bankers happy. Not one person in the roughly 200
I got to know in banking were happy. Yet all earned multiples of the national
average salary.
The reality of banking is this. Like everyone there, I
worked my ass to the bone, working mind numbingly boring work. My life was
emails, excel, powerpoint, meetings, endless drafts and markups about shit I
couldn't give less of a fuck about, edits, drafts, edits, drafts, edits, send
to printers, pick up, courier, meetings, more work, multitasking, boredom,
boredom, tired, boredom, avoiding the staffer on a friday, more work,
depression, tired, tired, tired, fucking miserable. 15 hour days were a
minimum, 16-17 were normal, 20+ were frequent and once or twice a month there
would be the dreaded all nighter. I worked around 2 out of every 4 weekends in
some form. I was never free, I always had my blackberry with me, and thus I
could never truly dettach myself from the job. These are the objective facts,
contrary to what any 'baller' wants to tell you. The only models were excel
models, the only bottles were coca cola, which I drank a lot of to stay awake.
I personally did not find the work interesting, and that
placed me in the 95% majority. Your not golfing with CEOs, talking about
strategy, then driving your lambo home at 3.30pm to have sex with your hot
girlfriend. No, your sat at your computer, haven't spent more than 5 minutes in
the sun in weeks, your out of shape, bad skin, tired, overworked, and your
facing yet another office dinner before calling yourself a cab somewhere
between 1am and 5am to take your lonely ass to your empty bed. In those rare
moments you do get out your tie to go talk to a client, you're not having a
nice interesting chat with an interesting person, you talking finance to some
other depressed office drone in some corporate office, who either pretends to
give a shit or, more often than not, doesn't pretend. …."
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