Investment Bank CEOs: Another one bites the dust

As another investment bank head throws in the towel, another set of investment banking inspired lyrics begin dancing in front of your eyes, sung to the tune of "I Will Survive", but from that vey embattled CEO's point of view.

First I was Chief counsel,
And then the CEO,
I pinned red umbrellas in my suit,
But the shares they moved so slow,
Investment banking was doing well,
ECM made cash to burn,
I was riding the financial markets,
Hoping there’ll be no downturn,

And then the dance,
Began to slow,
All the hedge funds pulled their cash,
nd the institutions began to follow,
And now my share price is in the pits,
Massive writeoffs are what I see,
I don’t want no shareholders,
Can’t they just stop bothering me?!?

They say “go on now go”, “walk out the door”,
“Just turn around now, 'cause you're not welcome anymore”
“ Weren't you the one who tried to stick to the strategy,
That read that if you get advised by us, we’ll throw some debt in there for free”
I should have split the firm apart,
I should have sold it bit by bit,
Like all the analysts told me,
Now it’s all just gone to shit,
At least I’ve got my options when I leave,
Although they don’t amount to much today,
But once I’m gone the price will soar,
And I’ll get my sky high pay day.

Just out of curiosity, how many of you monkeys and monkeyettes out there recognise the CEO and firm in questiosn. Drop the monkey a comment to have your say!

The poetry of investment banking

It's late at night, you're in a cab on your way home and you are paging through you schooldays companion, a book of poetry that reminds you that there are people that have more to say that the overvalued manufacturing arm of the nation's largest conglomerate. As you page through the book, your financial overload of the day metamorphosizes with the words on the page. Before you know it, you are reading Robert Burns' A Red Red Rose and instead of the original verses, a strange collection of the event of the day seems to be lurking between the lines, as if the chief executive of one of the investment banks were himself reading these verses and narrating his view of the world through this beautiful medium.

O my firm is like a pot of gold,
With plenty of cash to spare;
A lawsuit here, a settlement there,
The balance sheet has more to spare.
Those multi -million settlements,
Are peanuts for the house of Merill;
Lose one or two, you lose a few,
But eight billion is cause for peril.
Our balance sheet was hit real bad,
Our investor’s confidence was shaken;
But such is the strength of the Merill name,
And my options were still there to be taken.
Farewell my underling, farewell!
For I will certainly do!
I’m off to retire with my $160 mil,
And wish the best of luck to you.

The investment banker moves on: out with private equity, in with the strategics

So what if the Kruelbergs and Blunderstones of this world are finding it hard to get the kind of cash from their investment banks that they did just a few months ago. It’s an investment banker’s duty to try and then to try harder. Prepare pitches, present profiles, think in the box, out of the box, around the box – whatever it takes to get that damn tombstone. It has to be said,\however, that sometimes, a deal simply doesn’t work. It may be because the client is a dumbass who cannot tell their ass from their elbow, and can’t se a good deal when its staring them in the face. Sometimes, it’s because the deal or idea the investment banker has cooked up is so poor that even a three year old chipmunk wouldn’t look at it twice.

Nonetheless, it’s not an investment banker’s duty to question how or why. When a deal does not work, the investment banker takes rejection with dignity and honour (by telling everyone that the client is a muppet, for example) and goes to pitch the same idea to the next potential client that is willing to take the time to hear him out (it is very important to make sure that the client’s logo at the front of the presentation is changed in the pitchbook, as for some strange reason, clients tend to get rather upset when for example someone at Kruelberg opens the exclusive and unique opportunity that the firm has set aside for him and just him, only to find Blunderstone’s logo on the front page).

So we do live in times when the next client to pitch to isn’t going to be a private equity house. This is most unfortunate for the analyst involved, as it significantly reduces their ability to get headhunted into the buyside by impressing the clients with their knowledge of the art of bullshit. Big deal. Look on the bright side. No need to impress snotty nosed, full of themselves, smug ex-investment bankers who feel the need to overcompensate for all the shit they had to take in their junior days by making the investment bankers who work for them feel even worse. No way. Now that the Kruelbergs, Blunderstones and Crapaxes of this world are no longer in the market to but overpriced assets, in come the corporates, with their warchests of cash, sitting on their balance sheets. Their boards are no longer afraid of being pushed out by a crazy private equity fund (not that those guys have become less crazy, but they simply don’t have the cash nowadays), so there’s no need to worry about returning value through share buybacks. And with no buybacks, all the cash they make just sits idly on their balance sheet. It is in times like these that the investment banker hears his calling.

“Pitch to them!” says the deep voice of investment banking wisdom.

“Make them acquire!” roars the voice of investment banking passion.

“Help them expand their footprint in new markets!” whispers the voice of investment banking sincerity.

“Create the leaders of tomorrow” hollers the voice of investment banking vision.

The investment banker is drawn to the voices, dancing majestically like ballerinas in his head. Their words creating visions of synergies, multiple expansion, consolidation and premia. And as this spectacle of investment banking vision crystallizes before his eyes, the investment banker hears the deep, clear voice that overrides them all. It is chanting, loud and clear, the raison d’etre of every senior investment banker – “fees” sweet, glorious, upwards scaled, beautiful fees.

And for fees to materialize, deals need to happen, so the universe of the investment banking managing director eclipses with that of the humble analyst. They look together into the sunset over the City of London and march on to the next pitch – that next pitch that just might turn into a deal, that just might close. And if it does, oh how sweet those fees will be, and how wonderful the creation of yet another set of lucite tombstones will feel.

The Monkey is back: the New Investment Banking Paradigm

It feels like an age has gone by since you last reflected on you existence as an investment banker. You almost don’t know where to start, what words to use, how to describe the feelings of bitterness, resentment, pride and greed that, in subtle, interwoven overtones, paint the skies of the investment banking universe.

You sit reflecting on what you need to catch up on since the last time you had a few moments to yourself, and as you stop to think, you are immediately frustrated by the time it actually takes you to get that rusty machinery in your head going again. The core skills of investment banking have become innate to you, and as you have perfected these arts of slyness, manipulation, misrepresentation and disguising self-interest, you haven’t had the need to switch off the auto pilot and do some actual thinking.

Damn. That’s hard.

So what’s happened in last few months? Ah, nothing much. Kruelberg came, Kruelberg went, came again, went again, finally quenched a megadeal. Another investment bank advised on it. You worked on the financing. Bigass financing. One of the biggest financings of all time. Ok. It was underwritten by the same guys who advised Kruelberg on the deal, but you at least got a glimpse of the action. You’ll get a tombstone on your desk, and in ten years from now, nobody will even remember who did what. All that the little analysts will se when they enter their MD’s (your!) office will be the triumphant testimony that you were involved in one of the most amazing deals ever. That’s pretty good. Pretty damn good. And it’s all about the tombstone.

Oh. Yeah. One tiny detail being that, there was some more shit that happened in the meantime, and that tombstone is looking very unlikely. Why did the markets have to go sour on your big deal watch. Liquidity gone, spreads widening, the firm decided to pull out of the syndicate for the financing. They might have saved their asses but they sure screwed that tombstone for you. Why? Why? Since when have dividends to investment bank shareholders been more important than investment banking glory?!?

Oh well, Kruelberg and their other adviser, in the meantime, finished the deal. Those other analysts got a tombstone. So the market crashed. Their leveraged finance analysts also got a financing tombstone. So the whole ridiculous amount of debt is on the bank’s books. So what, they’ve got a tombstone. And to top it all, now that the debt market is distressed, Kruelberg looks like it will team up with said bank to create a special purpose entity to scoop up all the debt that it actually borrowed and the bank could not shift on to suckers like the firm. Ok, so Kruelberg not only gets its financing, but also makes a whammy by buying it off the bank at below the nominal value because it’s ‘distressed’! Genius. Kruelberg: 1, the investment bank: nil points. But hey, some little fucker in structuring will get a tombstone out of it for sure. Bottom line – screwing your shareholders over and making Kruelberg richer is a great deal for the bank – the tombstones are well worth the plummeting share price.

Sadly, that bank was not the firm. The firm’s shareholders and partners are richer, and you don’t have a single tombstone to show for it.

Where will this investment banker be in ten years' time?

So, the jury is out. You’ve been running around the bank, asking everyone where they thought you would be in ten years’ time. A great strategy, you thought to yourself, given the fact that you don’t have a clue as to what you will be doing and who you will be doing it for. After all, investment bankers are the some of the (self proclaimed) best brains around - the best and brightest – the world’s leading corporations jump at the opportunities and ideas the investment banking world throws at them, so why not leverage these great minds and let them decide your future for you. After having asked hundreds of keen intellects (well, 422 to be precise) about where you will be in ten years’ time, the results are rather puzzling, if not a little unsettling. Topping the list, one hundred and sixty four of them thought you would end up in a mental institution, ninety two said private equity, sixty four said you would make MD at the firm, fifty seven said you’d end up in a hedge fund (and hopefully one that doesn’t fold) and a generous forty five thought you would be retired.

Hmmm. The majority think mental institution eh? Well, the majority in 2000 also thought the boom bust cycle was a thing of the past. The majority also never saw Long Term Capital Management folding. Grateful as you are for everyone’s contribution, you take comfort in the street’s unprecedented ability and track record in getting things wrong and dismiss the mental institution idea.

Letter to an Investment Bank's Shareholder

From: The firm's management committee


Dear shareholder,

We would like to take this opportunity to provide you an update of the recent trading performance of the firm.

As you may already know, the overall market conditions, both on the debt and equity side have been rather challenging of late. We take this opportunity to explain to you, our fellow shareholder, the firm’s exposure to this market environment as well as the active steps your management team is taking to ensure your investment continues to deliver the high returns you expect.

Over the past twelve months, we have taken active steps to augment shareholder returns and deliver greater returns on your invested capital. We have identified strong growth areas in the market of alternative investments (hedge funds, private equity, etc) as well as augmented our business practices and divisions with strong exposure to these.

We have beefed up the headcount of highly motivated (and thus remunerated) managing directors in our leveraged finance and financial sponsors teams. Whilst this has been a significant short term cost to the firm in terms of hiring costs and guaranteed multi million dollar pay packages, these investments have positioned us to take full advantage of the private equity boom in the market. Unfortunately, the debt markets have not been doing as ell as we hoped, and the clients of our financial sponsors group are not doing any deals, so these expensive teams are now put on hold (the technical term for this is “TTT” – Twiddling Their Thumbs”). Also, our prime brokerage teams are in TTT mode owing to no activity from the hedge funds they were hired to serve.

Despite these temporary setbacks, our other divisions are well positioned to deliver strong revenue growth. Our equities division, for example, is ready to kick in and more than make up for the revenue lost by (and higher costs at) our financial sponsors, leveraged finance and prime brokerage divisions. Only problem is, and we are convinced once again that it will be of a short term nature, is that equity markets aren’t doing all that well, and our clients are pulling IPOs left, right and centre.

However, not to work, as we are a forward-thinking, strategic planning organization, and are actively planning for how we will dominate the market in the imminent recovery. As testament to this, we have this summer hired our largest analyst class for the investment bank, and it is the largest class ever. It might be that these analysts will be in TTT mode for some time now, but still, they will ensure we have the deep bench of associates for the next boom market that we will need to stay number one.

In short, we are happy to report that despite our share price performance (which has tanked, and with it, the retention ability of our rainmaking MDs, whose options are now all but worthless), our missing revenue targets and exceeding costs is of no relevance as we are looking to the future, and the future is indeed bright. Trust us!

Your management team.

Hedge Funds

For your viewing pleasure...

Born to be an investment banker

You wake up all hyped this fine morning, as a revelation passes in front of your eyes. You don’t need to have Rupert by the cojones in order to make your way up the firm’s structure. We live in efficient markets, as you discovered on your coffee break, and there seems to be little you can (legally) do to go round that fine point. But hey, as with all rules, there are even finer ways of twisting them to get them to work to your advantage.

Remembering the priceless advice on posturing you were given, you decide that it’s time to take the game up by a notch or two. This is something that a Mont Blanc pen and a good suit alone cannot solve. This calls for creativity, out of the box thinking, and the use of your entire investment banking skill set. This will be where your financial modelling skills will come into play. All those hours spent sitting in front of your computer screen, negotiating with your excel spreadsheet in order to make a lemon look like a peach. All those hours are finally about to pay off, as you run through your genus plan.

Much like the fact that selling a company has very little to do with the crap shape it may be in today, but the promise of a wonder once the lucky buyer has acquired it (and gets stuck with it), your progressing up the investment banking ladder has nothing to do with you being a good banker. It actually has more to do with the perception that you are a good banker. And good bankers are in strong demand, so you must demonstrate that you, being the great banker that you are, are fighting offers for employment left, right and centre.

Now this has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that you have none of these wonderful offers, nor are you close to getting one. However, just like a guy in a good suit is automatically an investment banker, a guy in a good suit coming late to the office on a regular basis, must be interviewing left right and centre. By the same token, if said banker is interviewing left right and centre, there must be people calling him for interviews and thus he must be in demand.

And if said banker is so highly sought after by the competition, well, the firm must do everything in their power to retain him and make him happy. The fact that the firm has not really found the said individual to be of such exceptional superstar fabric is of little relevance, as what is more frightening to any investment bank than making the wrong call, is if their competition makes the right call at their expense.

So, cutting a long story short, pretending to interview, and subtly dropping hints in the right place, at the right time, will get you junior support, an early promotion and the ability to cherry pick the deals you work on. All that, courtesy of the firm’s fear of erroneously having thought that you aren’t really that good.

To make it even better, the fact that you won’t really be interviewing, but still will be showing up late to work as if you had been interviewing, will mean that you will have reduced the amount of hours spent in the office! Bonus.

You smile quietly, amazed at the sheer genius of your plan. You also think yourself rather silly for having entertained the thought that you may not exactly be top tier banker material, for anyone devious enough to concoct a deception of this magnitude, was born to be an investment banker.

How investment banking is like royalty

Funny thing, you think to yourself, crouched over a discounted cash flow model on your screen on a Friday evening, that investment banking is so much like royalty. And not progressive royalty like a number of European countries have today. No. This is the old fashioned Marie Antoinette kind of shit we’re talking about here.

Thinking about why you’re sitting over an excel model for a project you’re not meant to be working on, for a client who you don’t even know and with a team that is in the pub having pints, brings you to this amazing realization. Why is it that you are here, and they are all there, and the guy that’s meant to be doing what you’re doing is the one in the middle of it all, having fee shots left right and centre.

Zap – flashback and it dawns on you again. Because he’s the intern and it’s his “half-way-through-the-internship-(yay he survived four whole weeks of spoon fed and sugar coated investment banking ass kissing)-drinks”. He’s a fucking intern! Fucking intern? So why are you here, doing his work, and he’s there, doing your drinking? Oh, And PS, who the fuck has heard of “half-way-through” drinks? So, back to the point, why? Well, because he’s part of the investment banking royalty programme, more commonly known as the “I’m an investment banker cos my daddy got me the job” programme. In his case though, it’s even better. both of his parents are managing directors and his uncle is a CEO of a Fortune 500 company, so go figure. There a programme where children of the employees and clients can intern for the summer (only one phone interview required versus the 3 plus who knows how many superdays that other mortals have to endure).

So why is it that these Bob Kings, Robert Mack, Francesca Paulson and Henry O’Neals (that’s right, check the internal databases and find out that the monkey is not cruel enough to name the real individuals) of the world get hired?

Well, to a certain extent, for entertainment. To do jobs, even jobs that are impossible to screw up, and screw them up, so everyone can discreetly laugh after congratulating them on a job well done.

But jokes aside, these individuals get hired for the same reasons that the royals of the past wanted male children – so that the firm can secure its next generation of leaders. It is only exceptional people, with no leadership skills, extensive ass kissing ability, no scruples, and an ego the size of the city of London, but no discernible skillset as such (MD’s) that are truly fit to run the firm. See the resemblance? Yes. Incompetent? Useless? Ignorant? True investment banking managing director material.

So that’s how investment banking is like royalty, you think to yourself, looking at the screen. You keep looking, when a comforting though puts a smile on your face, as you think of what happened to mademoiselle Antoinette.

Investment banking and efficient markets

...continued from "The kind of shit that (often) happens in investment banking"



Having met Mike at the lifts, you head down to get a coffee. None of that cappuccino bullshit the silly little monkeys drink, and then ask for three shorts to make it stronger. You order an espresso - double. Mike has had a rough time - went home at four and was back at nine - he orders a tripple shot espresso.



"Oh, wait, make that a tripple shot macchiato - don't want to go overboard with the coffee"



Typical mike to hit it with a 200% and then retract to a conservative 100%.



Mike also notices the unwipeabl;e smile on your face, and smiles back.



"So, you're quitting or what?"



You chuckle as you think to yourself how great it is to keep everyone guessing. How can they all be so foolish. All they can think of is the measly exit! Amateurs. The lot of them. Don't they realize that there is a lot more to be had that a simple exit to anoter investment bank or some hedge fund? Haha.


"Nope"



You reply, amused at the puzzled face looking at you following your answer.


"So what's the deal then?" asks Mike "Why are you being so smug?"



"Mate, if you knew what I know, you would be smug too. What I know is going to make me Rupert's number one man, get me an early promotion, and basically everything I wan't, because I'll have little Rupert eating out of the palm of my hand"



"Hehe. Nice one, for a moment there I thought you saw Rupert with one of the secretaries or something and I didn't want to burst your bubble because that's common knowledge. But hey, sounds to me like you've got something good going here. I won't ask, coz it doesn't sound like you're going to tell. Good luck pal."



And that is how, as often happens in investment banking, you come across a dealbreaker and you're back to square one, as you start wondering who those voicemails on your desk are from.

A New Beginning

Ok. So the news is out. Bonuses have been paid and the annual game of musical chairs is about to begin. You look around the floor, trying to guess who will quit in the coming days. You observe the analysts’ faces for signs of an upcoming resignation.

A few cubicles away, Pete Flannigan is a substantial deal more joyous than his usual chain smoking, grumpy, sleep deprived self. He’s sitting on the edge of his desk, merrily joking around with Friedrich von Blondehaare, who is actually engaging in non-work and promotion related conversation – also very out of character and suspect. What are these two monkeys upto? Whatever it is, it can’t be any good. It also surely is not the fact that they have been paid a lot of money just now, as once the cash is paid, everyone gets busy thinking about the fact that it will be a whole year of work before next bonus comes along – not a merry thought. No, indeed Pete and Freddy are up to something.

Thinking back, you recollect that both boys had pulled a few sickies over the last two months – Freddie had the flu and then a bad cough, followed by a leak in his shower which a plumber had to fix three times, each time, of course, requiring him to skip work for the day. Pete interestingly came up with the measles and also had plumbing problems. Pete also started coming to work in a suit, and even on days when he didn’t have a client meeting.

Ok, you think to yourself, so what. They went for a few interviews. Can you blame them? You interviewed with Blunderstone, didn’t you? So why should they not be allowed to test the market.

You smile at your open mindedness as you take another look at them chuckling away and firing funny glances around the office.

Damn it, enough of this “love thy fellow banker” shit. You take a dose of reality and remind yourself that these monkeys are probably sitting on offers from top tier rival banks or even a hedge fund or PE shop and here you are, sitting on your loyalty to the firm with diddly squat but your bonus.

You take another dose of reality and reassure yourself that you wouldn’t have even wanted to hold an offer from what are likely the third rate institutions they are going to. You work for the city’s premier investment banking firm. You are the best of the best, and the competition only tries to poach the best (you) and ends up with rest (them). Haha. They couldn’t even get to you, that’s how much of the best of the best you are. Haha you monkeys, chuckling there in your little corners, thinking that the three months of gardening leave and full bonus in your pocket plus the sign on bonus from the firm you jump to plus the possible one year early promotion you are likely to have gotten. Haha, you think you’re special. Well ha, you haven’t got loyalty have you, and as the firm says, you can’t put a price on loyalty.

You stop for another moment and realize that you are consoling yourself for your lack of an offer with the firm’s propaganda. How very, very sad. This means, there is only one thing to do. Shine those hand made shoes (or preferably get someone to do that for you), get a new suit done, new shirts, new tie and start interviewing.

Why can't investment banks take the shortest path from A to B

Failsafe Interviewing Techniques for Investment Bankers

Theres a great deal of paranoia when an analyst goes for interviews. This stems from a combination of the fact that ibanks promote a misplaced sense of loyalty to the bank you work for (lets face it, this is not a word that is in an ibankers vocabulary) and the fact that jobs open up and thus interviews happen shortly before bonus time, and no analyst wants to ruin their bonus by being seen as jumping ship (in which case they automatically drop to bottom bucket).

The first interviews are the toughest to deal with. Excuses like dentist, doctor, registered home delivery, plumber, electrician etc are common, and whilst they do arouse some suspicion, they are very plausible things that can happen to everyone.

The difficulty is in coming up with a credible excuse or rather, a set of excuses, when you need to do follow on interviews in a short period of time. Lets face it, three doctors appointments, two visits to the dentist and a broken boiler, fridge and blocked sink in the course of the two week period for you to meet every single member of the team at Goldman who is looking to hire you, is not an option.

Analysts, being the masters of bullshit that they have been trained by their bank to become, have through time developed more elaborate and effective tactics to avoid detection. So here are a few gems for your next interview. Enjoy.

a) Complain about back pains from sitting in front of a pc all day. Ibanks are paranoid about law suits of this kind and will immediately bring in a guy to replace your chair with a more comfy one and adjust the height of your desk so you feel just fine. Keep complaining and you get HR to pay for chiropractist sessions and not only that, but stress to the staffer that this is something he needs to let you take a few times a week. Bingo, you’ve secured yourself the ibanking equivalent of a hall pass.

b) Take up smoking, and go for regular cigarette breaks. Once you have developed a reputation for being away from your desk for the 20 minutes it takes to go down, light up and come back on a regular basis, when you disappear for 40 minutes to grab a quick meeting with a headhunter or interview, everyone will simply assume you are treating yourself to a ciggie and coffee.

c) Another benefit of taking up smoking is that you can catch bad colds when smoking late at night in the cold. Once said cold is established, you get up to two days to do interviews – yes, maybe with a bit of a runny nose, but it works.

d) In their second and third year, what is known as ‘managing analyst syndrome’ kicks in. This is when an analyst has illusions about being something in the banks and starts wearing a suit to work instead of a shirt and chinos. Whilst laughable, this attitude is a perfect smokescreen for going to interviews undetected – when you show up in a suit day after day, it will be much tougher to spot that youre interviewing (and thus wearing a suit) as this will be blamed on ‘managing analyst syndrome’.

For the less proficient interviewees, unexplained (or badly explained) absences, showing up in your best suit and you don’t have a meeting that day, smiling (ok, smiling on a regular basis) are all very good ways to spot a first time interviewee / leaver, so beware.

Managing Analyst Syndrome

Now that it's bonus time, and every monkey (in many cases quite literally) gets a bonus. From top bucket to the bottom of the pile, a new generation of kids will be a few tens of thousands richer than they were a month ago. Investment banks in a bull market are very much like communist regimes in that sense - they don't really discriminate . Everyone gets a bonus and a pat on the back. The money is coming in, so why not? Sure, the top ranked get a few grand more, but then again, they get taxed more, and work more, so net, net it's all the same for every monkey.

Now here's the problem. When the i-bank does not discriminate between who deserves a bonus and who doesn't, and also, doesn't leave the option of no bonus on the table, every little monkey starts expecting a bonus. It is no longer a bonus, but part of the expected base. Anger, resentment and greed jump in when someone gets a bigger one than you do. Defensiveness or bragging (depending on the extent to which the given analyst lacks cultivation) kick in for the monkey in the top bucket.

In between all this wonderful emotion is born the managing analyst syndrome. It's a rather vile and most primitive manifestation of a junior monkey feeling like they have become a big bad ape by being able to say they're now an analyst 2 and not analyst 1 and can throw £1,000 on a night out. This is very similar to the "MD + Lambo = mid life crisis" syndrome, as the said MD is clearly overcompensating for the fact that when his wife left him (he was still a VP then), she told him he was a lousy father and an even worse lover before slamming the door in his face.

Enough words of wisdom for this beautiful Summer day and back to an i-banker one and only love - the excel spreadsheet.

Bonuses and Resignations

Bankers, for the most part, can be quite articulate people. It is a true shame that this particular one took seven years at a bulge bracket firm before sharing this talent with the world in a farewell email.

"Dear Co-Workers and Managers,

As many of you probably know, today is my last day. But before I leave, I wanted to take this opportunity to let you know what a great and distinct pleasure it has been to type "Today is my last day."

For nearly as long as I've worked here, I've hoped that I might one day leave this company. And now that this dream has become a reality, please know that I could not have reached this goal without your unending lack of support. Words cannot express my gratitude for the words of gratitude you did not express.

I would especially like to thank all of my managers both past and present but with the exception of the wonderful Sanjeev Hairsprayhead: in an age where miscommunication is all too common, you consistently impressed and inspired me with the sheer magnitude of your misinformation, ignorance and intolerance for true talent. It takes a strong man to admit his mistake - it takes a stronger man to attribute his mistake to me.

Over the past seven years, you have taught me more than I could ever ask for and, in most cases, ever did ask for. I have been fortunate enough to work with some absolutely interchangeable supervisors on a wide variety of seemingly identical projects - an invaluable lesson in overcoming daily tedium in overcoming daily tedium in overcoming daily tedium.
Your demands were high and your patience short, but I take great solace knowing that my work was, as stated on my annual review, "meets expectation." That is the type of praise that sends a man home happy after a 10 hour day, smiling his way through half a bottle of meets expectation scotch with a meets expectation cigar. Thanks Tracy!

And to most of my peers: even though we barely acknowledged each other within these office walls, I hope that in the future, should we pass on the street, you will regard me the same way as I regard you: sans eye contact.

But to those few souls with whom I've actually interacted, here are my personalized notes of farewell:

To Paul, I will not miss hearing you cry over absolutely nothing while laying blame on me and my coworkers. Your racial comments about Jack Cobain were truly offensive and I hope that one day you might gain the strength to apologize to him.

To Brandy whom is long gone, I hope you find a manager that treats you as poorly as you have treated us. I worked harder for you then any manager in my career and I regret every ounce of it. Watching you take credit for my work was truly demoralizing.

To Sarah, you should learn how to keep your mouth shut sweet heart. Bad mouthing the innocent is a negative thing, especially when your talking about someone who knows your disgusting secrets. ; )

To Bill (Mr. Cronyism Jr), well, I wish you had more of a back bone. You threw me to the wolves with that witch Brandy and I learned all too much from it. I still can't believe that after following your instructions, I ended up getting written up, wow. Thanks for the experience buddy, lesson learned.

Dan (Mr. Cronyism Sr), I'm happy that you were let go in the same manner that you have handed down to my dedicated coworkers. Hearing you on the phone last year brag about how great bonuses were going to be for you fellas in upper management because all of the lay offs made me nearly vomit. I never expected to see management benefit financially from the suffering of scores of people but then again, with this company's rooted history in the slave trade it only makes sense.

To all of the executives of this company, Jimmy Dumbass and such. Despite working through countless managers that practiced unethical behavior, racism, sexism, jealousy and cronyism, I have benefited tremendously by working here and I truly thank you for that. There was once a time where hard work was rewarded and acknowledged, it's a pity that all of our positive output now falls on deaf ears and passes blind eyes. My advice for you is to place yourself closer to the pulse of this company and enjoy the effort and dedication of us "faceless little people" more. There are many great people that are being over worked and mistreated but yet are still loyal not to those who abuse them but to the greater mission of providing excellent customer support. Find them and embrace them as they will help battle the cancerous plague that is ravishing the moral of this company.

So, in parting, if I could pass on any word of advice to the lower salary recipient ("because it's good for the company") in India or Tampa who will soon be filling my position, it would be to cherish this experience because a job opportunity like this comes along only once in a lifetime.
Meaning: if I had to work here again in this lifetime, I would sooner kill myself.

To those who I have held a great relationship with, I will miss being your co-worker and will cherish our history together. Please don't bother responding as at this very moment I am most likely in my car doing 85 with the windows down listening to Biggie.

One!"

Investment Banking Summer Intern Do’s

DO
Wear a striped tie. Do also make sure that the stripes slope upwards. This is a bull market we’re talking about. None of that downward sloping off the rack limp ass shit.

DO
Come in with a stubble after you’ve pulled your second all nighter in a row. Also, make sure that you don’t shower. This is the only way anyone other than the punk ass analyst who made you pull the all nighters in the first place (and got credit for your work) will notice that you haven’t slept and showered. Get noticed by a VP or above – just because you can’t be of use to these guys doesn’t mean you can’t try to get their sympathy.

DO
Remember that you have not been hired for your ability to do mental arithmetic. If you need to calculate something, use excel. That’s what it’s there for. If you want to be a banker then start acting like a banker. Bankers can’t do maths. If they could, they would have been rocket scientists. 2 + 2 = EXCEL! For those moments you will not be at your computer, keep your trusted HP17B calculator handy.

DO
Do impress your analyst, associate and MD by your ability to down tequila shots. You have a serious competitive advantage here. You’ve been practicing at university whilst they’ve been doing deals late at night, so you will outdrink them. This will remind them of the days when they went out with mates at university. You will thus remind them of the fact that they had a life before banking, and this will make them happy. So, drink like a true student, and you will be in your team’s good books.

Leveraged Buyout - a la Carte

No comment is really needed. Monkey will keep this in mind in the next private equity interview.

Do monkeys on the trading floor get a better deal

You get asked whether monkeys on the trading floor get a better deal than monkeys in IBD. Interesting. You think for a moment...

A typical junior banker will say that of course a trader didn't get the betetr deal. Come on, they wake up when its still dark, they don't get to make headlines and shape the futures of corporate America, England, Europe or wherever and they are far more likely to suffer from erratic moving eyeball syndrome from being glued to 12 constantly flashign screens which they need to monitor.

Ask the same banker five years later, when they have lost all preconceptions about being a master of the universe, and you will hear the recognition that despite getting up when its still dark, they do get to go home when its light (and not because they're leaving the office at dawn after pulling an all nighter).

Also, the 12 blinking screens are usually coupled with a Lambo or a Ferrari parked outside, so in that light, they don't sound so bad.

Also, you just need to look at the price of Trader Magazine - £10! £10!!!

Last time you checked, Financial News was going for a third of that.

So there's some food for thought.

…and Some More Investment Banking Summer Internship Donts

Don’t diss the competition:
Many a smartass summer intern (see “Don’t be a Smartass”) try to impress their loyalty to their chosen firm by putting down the competition. Don’t. You never know whether your analyst who thinks quite highly of you is waiting for his bonus before moving to shitty, Goldmen or Moron Stanley. Don’t ruin your chances of getting a call to move once they jump ship just because you dissed the competition.

Don’t aim too high:
An anonymous banker highlighted that you shouldn’t suck up to your MD or VP. Correct. You should aim lower, and suck up to your analyst, because it’s their job to suck up to the associate, whose job it is to suck up to the VP and so on. Don’t forget the hierarchy.

Don’t forget you’re there to support:
And that means support. Carry an extra tie with you, just in case your analyst get called to a meeting and the chino wearing shit needs one. Make sure you’re the same build as your analyst, so he can also borrow your suit if he needs one (if you’re more buff than said analyst, stop going to the gym – this will give you added points as you will soon lose your athletic build and become less intimidating to your analyst). Always carry shoe polish, in case said analyst’s shoes need a shine. Forget your blackberry holster – what you need is a coffee cup holder for more than four cups – this way, you’ll need only make a single trip to Starbucks each morning when you bring your team coffee.

Investment Banking Internship Donts

You sit thinking, what don’t you want to see in a would be analyst, running about the office during the summer, and you realize that you cant stop at a single thing. You’ve seen your fellow interns last year so things that made their analysts cringe, and you’ve head a fair share of analyst war stories to be able to draw up a comprehensive list of intern donts. Not from the goodness of your heart, of course, because as every prospective ibanker should know, now that you have permanently infiltrated the ranks of the investment banking full time professional staff, your heart was one of the first things you had to check in before they’d let you into the building. No, you do it in anticipation of getting an intern of your own, so you type up a list of things you don’t want, to save you the time of explaining it to some overenthusiastic (or more like overly confident little shit given the fact that firms are hiring every Tom, Dick and Rupert with a pinkie ring now that the market is booming) intern.

Don’t be a smartass:
Too many little wannabe bankers try to look smart. You were not hired for brains. Your job is to perform manual (excel, powerpoint, Xerox) labour. You’re getting paid a hell of a lot of cash for doing a hell of a little value add, so you’ll be expected to put in the hours, not the brains.

Know your place:
It doesn’t matter that you have tailor made suits. Don’t wear them as your analyst (who’s probably got a massive chip on his shoulder) doesn’t. Don’t go as far as a polyester wrinkle free from M&S, because then even the biggest schmuck with a massive dent on his shoulder will laugh at you. Never dress better than your analyst, but make sure to not dress far worse. If he wears Hermes ties, you go for Ferragamo. If he comes in on the weekend with a Diesel tshirt (bankers like to think they’re hip), come in wearing something from GAP. You get the picture.

Make them look good:
You should expect your analyst to take credit for your work, and they will do that. When it’s god, it will be theirs, when its wrong, it will be yours. Don’t try to make the VP see that you were the one doing a piece of work – because you will get the shit in any case once they figure out its wrong. Oh, and by the way, your work will always be wrong. At best, it will always be something that can be improved. Think of your analyst like a shot of tequila. Salt, lemon and you slam it. Again, and again and again. Look on the bright side, it’s only for the summer.

You will know you are not smart:
Know this in everything you do. Your analyst will give you shit because you messed something up. Say thank you, as you’re really not that bright. You will complain that you haven’t gotten much sleep. You’ll get told to be more efficient and it takes you too long t5o do stuff, because you’re not altogether that bright. Let’s face it. You’ve signed on to spend your last free summer before beginning a lifetime of work with a bunch of boring, arrogant, overworked and underlived cube monkeys for what ends up being minimum wage on an hourly basis. They know it, you know it, so live up to it.

Good luck.