I've decided to post some other non-street related stuff up here, just to get some content up.
This is also posted on needsmorezazz.blogspot.com
Inspired by Itunes playing 3 CA related songs back to back while on shuffle.
New York I Love You, But You're Bringing Me Down - LCD Soundsystem
The Only Boy Living In New Your - Simon & Garfunkel
Going to California - Led Zeppelin
Come Back From San Francisco - The Magnetic Fields
Making Days Longer - RJD2
We Will Become Silhouettes - The Postal Service
Ever Fallen In Love? - The Buzzcocks
Return - Ok Go
Hotel California - Gypsy Kings
LDN - Lily Allen
Amsterdam - Peter Bjorn & John
The Rhumba - Digital Bobby
Latin Simone - Gorillaz
Daft Punk is Playing at My House - LCD Soundsystem (again, i know...)
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Friday, September 14, 2007
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
The Five Stages Of Banking
New bankers (and summer interns) typically go through 5 stages during the early part of thier careers.
Denial
You throw yourself into your work, convinced that by scrubbing comps or managing working group lists late into the night,you're adding value to the deal and making a huge contribution to the firm.
Anger
You begin to fray around the edges as associates, VPs, MDs, and yes, even analysts give you progressively more tedious and inane projects. Homicidal thoughts are entertained when a VP gives you a list of obviously unsuitible comps to add to a model, only to ask to have them removed 3 hours later.
Bargining
At this point the you try to convince yourself that if you can pull one more all-nighter, you'll be able to leave the morass of junior banker-dom behind and transcend to the higher plane of true BSD-hood. Sadly this never happens. Which leads to....
Depression
When an MD has dropped a red streaked Offering Memorandum draft on your desk at 4 on a Friday and wants it done for Monday morning, and you're alone in the office watching the cleaning crew finish, you realize the truth about being a junior banker. Waves of self-doubt and depression erode your confidence until you're a blubbering wreck, alone at your desk save the mocking, yet comforting glow of Excel on your screen.
Acceptance
Eventually, you make peace with yourself for selling out, trading any semblance of a normal social life for a shadow of an existence punctuated by those too short moments when your blackberry stops vibrating. By this point you are a broken, humorless, cynical shell of a man. A modern day Tantalus, you'll be surrounded by money, only to have any opportunity to spend it whisked out of sight, out of reach.
Once you accept this lifestyle and its innate horrors, you will have taken the first and most important step towards being a BSD.
Or at least a 2nd year analyst.
Denial
You throw yourself into your work, convinced that by scrubbing comps or managing working group lists late into the night,you're adding value to the deal and making a huge contribution to the firm.
Anger
You begin to fray around the edges as associates, VPs, MDs, and yes, even analysts give you progressively more tedious and inane projects. Homicidal thoughts are entertained when a VP gives you a list of obviously unsuitible comps to add to a model, only to ask to have them removed 3 hours later.
Bargining
At this point the you try to convince yourself that if you can pull one more all-nighter, you'll be able to leave the morass of junior banker-dom behind and transcend to the higher plane of true BSD-hood. Sadly this never happens. Which leads to....
Depression
When an MD has dropped a red streaked Offering Memorandum draft on your desk at 4 on a Friday and wants it done for Monday morning, and you're alone in the office watching the cleaning crew finish, you realize the truth about being a junior banker. Waves of self-doubt and depression erode your confidence until you're a blubbering wreck, alone at your desk save the mocking, yet comforting glow of Excel on your screen.
Acceptance
Eventually, you make peace with yourself for selling out, trading any semblance of a normal social life for a shadow of an existence punctuated by those too short moments when your blackberry stops vibrating. By this point you are a broken, humorless, cynical shell of a man. A modern day Tantalus, you'll be surrounded by money, only to have any opportunity to spend it whisked out of sight, out of reach.
Once you accept this lifestyle and its innate horrors, you will have taken the first and most important step towards being a BSD.
Or at least a 2nd year analyst.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Country Day School Douche-tacular
After a long Saturday of scrubbing comps (with occasional breaks to pwn n00bz on the Halo 3 beta) I left my apartment to go to my local cantina for a chicken quesadilla, a Sol with lime, and a Don Julio Anejo back. After a quick walk through the bleary Fairfield County weather, I reached the bar, took a seat, and started sipping my cervesa.
The calm before the quesadilla was broken by the scraping of chairs, raised voices, and high pitched giggles. I turned around to find 8 pairs of hot chicks with douchebags seated behind me, acting loud and obnoxious as douchebags are wont to be.
Now these weren't Lee Hotti douches. These guys were the I'm-from-fairfield-county-my-sense-of-entitlement-knows-no-bounds-stepped-out-of-a-j. crew/crombie-catalog-never-left-the frathouse douches. Think Sac from the Wedding Crashers. On top of this, i noticed that they all had name tags that read "County Day School Class of '97."
Now in the interests of full disclosure, i have to mention, that i went to a prep school in fairfield county, and i work in finance. Both of those automatically make me a bit of a douche. However, this qualifies me to comment on such douchiness, as we can smell our own.
Anyway, I decide to not let the baggers get in the way of my unwinding, when the Alpha Douche appears. Unlike his fellow bags, who are wearing golf shirts with popped collars, AD has arrived wearing a ratty t-shirt with underarm sweat stains and way too much cologne. I'm sorry, did i say cologne? I meant AXE body spray.
Since there is already an even hot chick to DB ratio in his group, the alpha douche, after proclaiming loudly to his boys "I'm a hockey player, i don't pick up chicks i bag them," stumbles to the bar and starts to unsuccessfully hit on the girl next to me.
Now the girl sitting next to me is incredibly cute and has shown up with a decent looking, but slightly nerdy guy. As a decent looking and slightly nerdy guy myself, I give the man props and feel for him as the AD starts to ruin his night. My chance to intervene comes when he says "What do you do? I work in investment backing?"
I wheel in my seat to face the AD and butt in, "Really? So do I. What firm?"
He mentions some little boutique trading shop that has no IBD.
I refrain from smirking as I go in for the kill. "So what do you do there?"
"Uh, I work with clients to make sure our trades clear."
"Oh ok, so you don't work in investment banking. You work in Ops at a brokerage that doesn't have an investment banking division. Thats too bad."
Embrassed, the alpha douche retreats to his pack with his tail between his legs. The nerdy guy gives me a nod of thanks, and i smile, knowing that my work here is done.
The calm before the quesadilla was broken by the scraping of chairs, raised voices, and high pitched giggles. I turned around to find 8 pairs of hot chicks with douchebags seated behind me, acting loud and obnoxious as douchebags are wont to be.
Now these weren't Lee Hotti douches. These guys were the I'm-from-fairfield-county-my-sense-of-entitlement-knows-no-bounds-stepped-out-of-a-j. crew/crombie-catalog-never-left-the frathouse douches. Think Sac from the Wedding Crashers. On top of this, i noticed that they all had name tags that read "County Day School Class of '97."
Now in the interests of full disclosure, i have to mention, that i went to a prep school in fairfield county, and i work in finance. Both of those automatically make me a bit of a douche. However, this qualifies me to comment on such douchiness, as we can smell our own.
Anyway, I decide to not let the baggers get in the way of my unwinding, when the Alpha Douche appears. Unlike his fellow bags, who are wearing golf shirts with popped collars, AD has arrived wearing a ratty t-shirt with underarm sweat stains and way too much cologne. I'm sorry, did i say cologne? I meant AXE body spray.
Since there is already an even hot chick to DB ratio in his group, the alpha douche, after proclaiming loudly to his boys "I'm a hockey player, i don't pick up chicks i bag them," stumbles to the bar and starts to unsuccessfully hit on the girl next to me.
Now the girl sitting next to me is incredibly cute and has shown up with a decent looking, but slightly nerdy guy. As a decent looking and slightly nerdy guy myself, I give the man props and feel for him as the AD starts to ruin his night. My chance to intervene comes when he says "What do you do? I work in investment backing?"
I wheel in my seat to face the AD and butt in, "Really? So do I. What firm?"
He mentions some little boutique trading shop that has no IBD.
I refrain from smirking as I go in for the kill. "So what do you do there?"
"Uh, I work with clients to make sure our trades clear."
"Oh ok, so you don't work in investment banking. You work in Ops at a brokerage that doesn't have an investment banking division. Thats too bad."
Embrassed, the alpha douche retreats to his pack with his tail between his legs. The nerdy guy gives me a nod of thanks, and i smile, knowing that my work here is done.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Swiss Blue Balls
It starts out innocently enough. Someone complains that the chairs are uncomfortable and it hurts to sit down for an extended period of time. Then their voices start to carry noticeable tension, as the discomfort grows and grows. Finally, they make their appearance, accompanied by furious bouts of pumping, leading to a climax of comfort and relief.
Blue Balls. Big Blue Swiss Balls.
One of my coworker's back problems lead to her purchasing a big blue swiss exercise ball to replace her chair. The next thing we knew was that the girl next to her had one too. Then one of the guys on the other side of the desk got one. The CA office is already over run with blue balls, and the innuendo out here is one punchline shy of a sexual harassment suit.
"Can you come over here and help me pump? Mine's so shriveled and soft"
I'm not even going to get into the discussions about PIPEs (Private Investment in Public Equity)
Blue Balls. Big Blue Swiss Balls.
One of my coworker's back problems lead to her purchasing a big blue swiss exercise ball to replace her chair. The next thing we knew was that the girl next to her had one too. Then one of the guys on the other side of the desk got one. The CA office is already over run with blue balls, and the innuendo out here is one punchline shy of a sexual harassment suit.
"Can you come over here and help me pump? Mine's so shriveled and soft"
I'm not even going to get into the discussions about PIPEs (Private Investment in Public Equity)
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