Investment Banking Monkey - The All Nighter

Ok rock star. So you've been around the block. You've pulled your own Rob Tucker. You've done more all nighters than you thought were possible. You've become Rupert's buy and yes, you're back from the dead to tell the tale. You have added so much value to clients - if your value added were to be piled up, the mountain of shit would be taller than the Canary Wharf Tower. You are one important test away from clinching that offer, and that is to select a hire for the next analyst intake.

Its the last measure the firm has introduced to ensure that summer interns are in fact competent individuals rather than buddies and cronies of other sorts. Who better to pick to do the selection than some chappie whose own position isn't secure yet. The cynic in you says that this is the best way to hey your mates into the business, but you want the job. You want it bad. You wanna be that master of the universe.

A pile of CVs was dropped off at your desk by HR in the morning. Your final test (a piece of information you have access to courtesy of Rob) is to screen the applications and select a shortlist of appropriate candidates for first round interviews. You do that to a standard representative of the firm and the job is yours.

You thing hard. You out yourself in the shoes of the firm. How would they approach this. And who better to out yourself in the shoes of than Rupert McMuppet. Thinking long and hard, going over combinations and permutations, realising that you want to go and hit the pub, you have your answer! Just as if Rupert had done it himself. You take the too five CVs and dump the rest in the bin.

"What did you do that for?" Rupert asks, having come up behind you out of the blue.
You are the look of approval in his eyes. You know you have done the right thing. Now all he wants is the right explanation and the job is yours!

"Those that ended up in the bin are unlucky. And I do not believe this is a firm for unlucky people"

Rupert nods in approval. You made it.