Your mellow train of thought is interrupted by the cab driver.
"You boys always stay up so late. How on Earth do you do it?"
Nooo. Just your luck to end up with a talker. "I do it by sleeping in the cab you dumbass, instead of talking to you! How do you think I do it ?!?" You feel like a master of the universe for a second as you picture yourself saying that to the cabbie, only to decide against it. After all, its his cab and you need to hey home. Getting thrown out would be most counterproductive in achieving that goal. You decide to ignore the driver and pretend you are asleep, hoping he will fall for it.
No such luck. He keeps on talking.
"I don't understand why you boys do these crazy hours. See, if you take my job, I work my own hours. I am my own boss. And guess what I make. Just guess. I bet you that I make more than you do and I am my own man, working less than half the hours you do."
You smile politely.
If you get one more freaking cabbie lecture you on how you shold cash in your high flyer miles and upgrade to driving sorry assholes like you around town at the most ungodly hours of the morning, you will seriously not be able to restrain yourself.
You smile politely.
You pretend to be thinking about the words he has just spoken with a newfound sobriety in an attempt to shake him off. You try as hard as you can to appear to be rejoycing in the image of your i-banker mates when you break the news to them that after three months at the firm you have chosen to leave to pursue other opportunities. Whilst you are most grateful to the exceptional individuals you have had the honour to work with, it is time for you to say adieu for you have decided to grab the bull by its horns and take your future into your own hands. The markets are booming, and it is not difficult to see that fromk the armies of bankers leaving their offices at crazy hours of the morning. You have thus decided to set up your own business and capitalise on the current market environment. Having identified a lucrative and underexploited business opportunity, you have decided to join the ranks of black cab drivers (who are far less numerous than i-bankers and thus must be far more exclusive a club). Also, judging from the crazy waiting times in the taxi ranks at the office of late, one cannot help but remark that waiting times have gotten longer and longer, and following the rules of posturing, which you have learnt so much about, it he who is more important that is waited on, so you will be taking a step up on the ladder of corporate success.
Your daydream (or nightdream - no pun intended) is interrupted by a sharp turn into Beauchamp Place. You look at the cab driver, and realise that what started as a mockery of this presumptuous chap, has turned into a real option in a matter of seconds. The fact that he can drive like a complte arse and you cannot do anything about it goes to show your respective places in the food chain. You ask him how old he is out of curiosity.
"48, going on 49 in October" he replies.
You take a look at him and he does not look a day older than 31. You then realize that the only 30-something year olds are bankers, and banker years are just like men bragging about their conquests - to get to the truth, take whatever they say and divide by 2. You do the maths in your head, taking his age 49, divide by 2 and get 24.5, and it all makes sense finally. This 49 year old cabbie is only about 24.5 i-banker years old, and he looks it!
Mental note. Add leaving email on to do list when you get back to the office.