Article An investment banker friend was recently complaining about the havoc and uncertainty at her workplace in these crazy times. I tried to express sympathy. But I found that I just didn’t care. Actually, even worse: I felt like rolling my eyes. And this is a person I like. Recently, I’ve found myself not only NOT empathizing with my fellow twentysomethings in the beleaguered financial services industry, but experiencing undeniable pleasure at their increasingly tenuous circumstances. You see, for those of us recent grads working in New York, a pay-related pecking order was established immediately after graduation. Those who chose the I-banking route nailed down six-figure salaries—moaning about their hours—while others—teachers, journalists, and the like—were barely squeaking by, often keeping similarly punishing schedules. Worshipping Gordon Gekko Furthermore, the attitude of many of those bankers became increasingly tinged by an appreciation of a certain “models and bottles” lifestyle, which… Read More
