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!
Showing posts with label Investment banking lyrics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Investment banking lyrics. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Thursday, January 11, 2007
How i-Banking is like the Wizard of Oz
It’s Christmas and you’re sitting back home stateside, watching the Wizard of Oz, and it strikes you that the wonderful world of i-banking is very much like the wonderful wizard of Oz.
DOROTHY:
Dorothy is none other than yours truly, dreaming of a place where there isn’t any trouble. Ok, a little more specifically, dreaming of place where there isn’t any trouble for yours truly. A place where you’ve made MD and nobody can throw shit your way. A magical place where smartass associates try to catch you off guard with a well though of question that you really should have thought of in the first place, and you simply shut them up by saying:
“Excellent initiative, but why are you coming to me with a half-assed job?”
You look at the shocked associate with a look of pure bliss on your face.
“You’ve thought of the problem, now go and bring me the solution. The firm doesn’t pay you to get a job half-done.”
Ah, yes, that wonderful land over the rainbow…
Somewhere on the top floor,
Way up high,
There’s an office I heard of,
Once in a lullaby.
Somewhere on the top floor,
An office with a view,
And a hot assistant like Rupert’s,
Just for you.
Somewhere on the top floor,
Where you can actually see the sky,
And don’t need to do any work,
Because work’s for the likes of you and I.
TOTO:
Toto is the faithful intern that yours truly has the joy of training. Toto follows you around wherever you go, does all the shit you don’t want to do, and hey presto, is always happy to do it because you’re helping good little Toto to climb up the steep learning curve, being the superstar first year analyst you are (you know that you really are no such thing, but remember the first rule of posturing – you want to be a superstar, so you present yourself as such and in no time you are a superstar.
THE MUNCHKINS:
Accountants, consultants and other third party service providers who will be very happy to work for you rather than the Wicked Witch of the East (probably the associate that was staffed on the project without an analyst and was a complete hardass on all other advisers until passing on the co-ordination duties to you).
SCARECROW:
Famed for saying “you could go this way, but some people also go that way”, and lacking a brain, the scarecrow could be none other but your regular headhunter. There you are walking along the road, and without asking, you’re approached by someone you don’t know, sitting at the crossroad, telling you could go this way, or that way, and not really making you any the wiser.
THE WITCH:
The staffer whose official capacity is to use their power and influence to ensure work is distributed equally amongst the ranks and that you get to where you want to go. What the staffer is meant to be like is something like the nice Witch of the North. What a staffer is really like is the Wicked Witch of the West. Also, the staffer, much like the Wicked Witch of the West, is constantly trying to take Toto away from you.
THE WIZARD OF OZ:
Rupert. At the end of the day, the Wizard is at the end of the yellow brick road. Just like the wizard, Rupert’s post implies that he aught to be able to make your dreams come true and give you what you want, but as we all know, there is no such thing as a free lunch. You go to see him, asking for holiday, promotion, better deals, whatever it is, and he will be sure to:
a) Put you down to ensure he establish his BSD status, just in case you had forgotten
b) Promise to give you what you want, but you have to do something for him first
c) So he will ask you to stick it out and set an example to the rest of the ranks
Promotion:
a) I’m an MD, you’re an analyst. Me BSD, you nobody.
b) Sure, I’ll push for your promotion, but you need to do something for me.
c) Wait for six months and no complaining to the other analysts.
Result: wait until everyone is promoted and so will you. You would have achieved this by never going in to see Rupert in the first place.
Salary increase:
a) I’m an MD, you’re an analyst. Me BSD, you nobody.
b) Sure, I’ll push for your salary increase, but you need to do something for me.
c) Wait for six months and no complaining to the other analysts.
Result: wait until everyone’s salary is increased and so will yours. You would have achieved this by never going in to see Rupert in the first place.
You ask, and Rupert sends you off, with the impression that you have received what you wanted, without really doing anything, and relying on the system and you to solve the problem single handedly.
Moral of the story, a brainless scarecrow, heartless tin man and wimpy lion are all it takes to fill Rupert’s shoes. And all that in Technolocolour.
DOROTHY:
Dorothy is none other than yours truly, dreaming of a place where there isn’t any trouble. Ok, a little more specifically, dreaming of place where there isn’t any trouble for yours truly. A place where you’ve made MD and nobody can throw shit your way. A magical place where smartass associates try to catch you off guard with a well though of question that you really should have thought of in the first place, and you simply shut them up by saying:
“Excellent initiative, but why are you coming to me with a half-assed job?”
You look at the shocked associate with a look of pure bliss on your face.
“You’ve thought of the problem, now go and bring me the solution. The firm doesn’t pay you to get a job half-done.”
Ah, yes, that wonderful land over the rainbow…
Somewhere on the top floor,
Way up high,
There’s an office I heard of,
Once in a lullaby.
Somewhere on the top floor,
An office with a view,
And a hot assistant like Rupert’s,
Just for you.
Somewhere on the top floor,
Where you can actually see the sky,
And don’t need to do any work,
Because work’s for the likes of you and I.
TOTO:
Toto is the faithful intern that yours truly has the joy of training. Toto follows you around wherever you go, does all the shit you don’t want to do, and hey presto, is always happy to do it because you’re helping good little Toto to climb up the steep learning curve, being the superstar first year analyst you are (you know that you really are no such thing, but remember the first rule of posturing – you want to be a superstar, so you present yourself as such and in no time you are a superstar.
THE MUNCHKINS:
Accountants, consultants and other third party service providers who will be very happy to work for you rather than the Wicked Witch of the East (probably the associate that was staffed on the project without an analyst and was a complete hardass on all other advisers until passing on the co-ordination duties to you).
SCARECROW:
Famed for saying “you could go this way, but some people also go that way”, and lacking a brain, the scarecrow could be none other but your regular headhunter. There you are walking along the road, and without asking, you’re approached by someone you don’t know, sitting at the crossroad, telling you could go this way, or that way, and not really making you any the wiser.
THE WITCH:
The staffer whose official capacity is to use their power and influence to ensure work is distributed equally amongst the ranks and that you get to where you want to go. What the staffer is meant to be like is something like the nice Witch of the North. What a staffer is really like is the Wicked Witch of the West. Also, the staffer, much like the Wicked Witch of the West, is constantly trying to take Toto away from you.
THE WIZARD OF OZ:
Rupert. At the end of the day, the Wizard is at the end of the yellow brick road. Just like the wizard, Rupert’s post implies that he aught to be able to make your dreams come true and give you what you want, but as we all know, there is no such thing as a free lunch. You go to see him, asking for holiday, promotion, better deals, whatever it is, and he will be sure to:
a) Put you down to ensure he establish his BSD status, just in case you had forgotten
b) Promise to give you what you want, but you have to do something for him first
c) So he will ask you to stick it out and set an example to the rest of the ranks
Promotion:
a) I’m an MD, you’re an analyst. Me BSD, you nobody.
b) Sure, I’ll push for your promotion, but you need to do something for me.
c) Wait for six months and no complaining to the other analysts.
Result: wait until everyone is promoted and so will you. You would have achieved this by never going in to see Rupert in the first place.
Salary increase:
a) I’m an MD, you’re an analyst. Me BSD, you nobody.
b) Sure, I’ll push for your salary increase, but you need to do something for me.
c) Wait for six months and no complaining to the other analysts.
Result: wait until everyone’s salary is increased and so will yours. You would have achieved this by never going in to see Rupert in the first place.
You ask, and Rupert sends you off, with the impression that you have received what you wanted, without really doing anything, and relying on the system and you to solve the problem single handedly.
Moral of the story, a brainless scarecrow, heartless tin man and wimpy lion are all it takes to fill Rupert’s shoes. And all that in Technolocolour.
Meet Henrietta Pizza
As with every hot shot i-banking department, Rupert’s group is bringing lots of cash for the firm, which translates into Rupert having a disproportional allocation of pretty much anything he wants. This continuum remains until Rupert’s clients realize that his banker’s advice is rubbish and that they’re better off banking with another firm. Worry not for Rupert though, because it takes clients a few years to figure this out, and by the time they switch, he’ll have been headhunted into that firm, anyway, so good luck to you if you are a client. Once you’ve got Rupert as an advisor, you can kiss your share price goodbye.
Being recruitment season, and Rupert being made acutely aware of the desperate need to get more analysts*, Rupert pushes for more than the London office has allocated to be his fair share. As magically happens when Rupert asks, Rupert gets. One bright Monday morning, a little Italian analysts makes her way onto the floor and to the cubicle designated for her with all the subtlety and finesse of a 747 trying to land on a little sports airfield in Kent. Meet Henrietta Pizza, the team’s newest addition to the analyst ranks straight from the New York office.
As you soon find out a little bit about Henrietta, not because you asked, or were introduced, but because you couldn’t help overhearing the ‘conversation’ Henrietta was having with Rob, six cubicles away, that sounded something like this:
Rob: “Welcome to the team. We are fortunate to have such a well regarded analyst”
Henrietta: “E’ IT IS ‘A PLESUR TO ‘A COME ‘A TO A SUCH ‘A GOOD ‘A TEAM. I’ ‘A WAS ‘A THE TOP’A RANKED’A ANALYST IN A DA NEW’ A YORK’A THIS A’YEAR”
As Rob recovers his posture from the near blasting of the sound barrier by Henrietta’s recital, and his hair looks like he’s gelled it back in a true Wall Street Gordon Gecko style.
A smile creeps onto your face as you observe Rob struggle to keep his posture as Henrietta unleashed a few more rounds of ‘conversation’. You close your eyes and picture Rob wearing full body armour and sporting a massive sword, fighting fire breathing dragon, whose fire breathes an Italian accent. You enjoy the thought for a few brief moments and open your eyes again.
Rob has manages to retreat and is licking his wounds as he (probable is merely pretending as a way of getting away from Henrietta) holds his mobile phone to his ear and swiftly walks away towards his cubicle.
That very second, your phone rings. You pick it up only to hear Rob at the other end:
[Whispering] “Play along, my life is at stake”
[Loud] “Hi, it’s Rob. I got your email that you urgently want to speak to me”
[Whispering] “Ok, cheers mate. She’s out of hearing range. Did you see that. I’a’do’a’lot’a’da’eM’and’A’a in ‘a’da’New’a’York’a. Haha. I bet you tomorrow morning she’ll march into the office singing:
I don’t know but I’ve been told,
Banking is my path to gold,
I’ll do your pitches, deals and shit,
I’ll do all-nighters no regret,
I’ll earn top dollar, be first in class,
Coz I’m the queen of kissin’ ass,
The needs of the many above the few,
The firm’s much bigger than me and you,
Pizza is my second name,
Investment banking is my game,
You’ve been told so now you know,
Henrietta the banker is real gung ho!”
Sadly, your rolling on the floor laughing exercise must come to an end as you realize you have been laughing so hard that you desperately need to use the little boys’ room.
Notes:
* Associates and senior analysts push for greater numbers of junior analysts so that they can dump all their work to these poor, excited souls with the pretext of helping them climb the ‘steep learning curve’.
Being recruitment season, and Rupert being made acutely aware of the desperate need to get more analysts*, Rupert pushes for more than the London office has allocated to be his fair share. As magically happens when Rupert asks, Rupert gets. One bright Monday morning, a little Italian analysts makes her way onto the floor and to the cubicle designated for her with all the subtlety and finesse of a 747 trying to land on a little sports airfield in Kent. Meet Henrietta Pizza, the team’s newest addition to the analyst ranks straight from the New York office.
As you soon find out a little bit about Henrietta, not because you asked, or were introduced, but because you couldn’t help overhearing the ‘conversation’ Henrietta was having with Rob, six cubicles away, that sounded something like this:
Rob: “Welcome to the team. We are fortunate to have such a well regarded analyst”
Henrietta: “E’ IT IS ‘A PLESUR TO ‘A COME ‘A TO A SUCH ‘A GOOD ‘A TEAM. I’ ‘A WAS ‘A THE TOP’A RANKED’A ANALYST IN A DA NEW’ A YORK’A THIS A’YEAR”
As Rob recovers his posture from the near blasting of the sound barrier by Henrietta’s recital, and his hair looks like he’s gelled it back in a true Wall Street Gordon Gecko style.
A smile creeps onto your face as you observe Rob struggle to keep his posture as Henrietta unleashed a few more rounds of ‘conversation’. You close your eyes and picture Rob wearing full body armour and sporting a massive sword, fighting fire breathing dragon, whose fire breathes an Italian accent. You enjoy the thought for a few brief moments and open your eyes again.
Rob has manages to retreat and is licking his wounds as he (probable is merely pretending as a way of getting away from Henrietta) holds his mobile phone to his ear and swiftly walks away towards his cubicle.
That very second, your phone rings. You pick it up only to hear Rob at the other end:
[Whispering] “Play along, my life is at stake”
[Loud] “Hi, it’s Rob. I got your email that you urgently want to speak to me”
[Whispering] “Ok, cheers mate. She’s out of hearing range. Did you see that. I’a’do’a’lot’a’da’eM’and’A’a in ‘a’da’New’a’York’a. Haha. I bet you tomorrow morning she’ll march into the office singing:
I don’t know but I’ve been told,
Banking is my path to gold,
I’ll do your pitches, deals and shit,
I’ll do all-nighters no regret,
I’ll earn top dollar, be first in class,
Coz I’m the queen of kissin’ ass,
The needs of the many above the few,
The firm’s much bigger than me and you,
Pizza is my second name,
Investment banking is my game,
You’ve been told so now you know,
Henrietta the banker is real gung ho!”
Sadly, your rolling on the floor laughing exercise must come to an end as you realize you have been laughing so hard that you desperately need to use the little boys’ room.
Notes:
* Associates and senior analysts push for greater numbers of junior analysts so that they can dump all their work to these poor, excited souls with the pretext of helping them climb the ‘steep learning curve’.
Friday, October 27, 2006
i-Bank Rock
(Sung to the tune of Jailhouse Rock)
The analysts were parting in the 12th floor jail,
The cleaning staff were there and they began to wail,
The print room folks were jumpin’ and the joint began to swing,
You should’ve heard those knocked out banking monkeys sing.
Lets pitch, everybody, lets pitch
Everybody in IBD
Pitch so Rupert can get rich.
Associate 2 said to analyst 3,
You’re the cutest banker chick I ever did see,
I sure would be delighted with your company,
Come on and do this mega pitchbook with me.
Lets pitch, everybody, lets pitch
Everybody in IBD
Pitch so Rupert can get rich.
The summer intern was a sittin’ like a block of stone,
Modelling on his keyboard in his cubicle alone,
His associate threw his presentation marked in red,
‘N yelled boy if it don’t balance you gonna wish you were dead!
Lets pitch, everybody, lets pitch
Everybody in IBD
Pitch so Rupert can get rich.
The balance sheet was off and the intern started to cry,
He tried to trace the problem and on the second try,
The spredsheet started reffing at a quarter to twelve,
He knew it would be an allnighter for this pitch from hell.
Lets pitch, everybody, lets pitch
Everybody in IBD
Pitch so Rupert can get rich.
The analysts were parting in the 12th floor jail,
The cleaning staff were there and they began to wail,
The print room folks were jumpin’ and the joint began to swing,
You should’ve heard those knocked out banking monkeys sing.
Lets pitch, everybody, lets pitch
Everybody in IBD
Pitch so Rupert can get rich.
Associate 2 said to analyst 3,
You’re the cutest banker chick I ever did see,
I sure would be delighted with your company,
Come on and do this mega pitchbook with me.
Lets pitch, everybody, lets pitch
Everybody in IBD
Pitch so Rupert can get rich.
The summer intern was a sittin’ like a block of stone,
Modelling on his keyboard in his cubicle alone,
His associate threw his presentation marked in red,
‘N yelled boy if it don’t balance you gonna wish you were dead!
Lets pitch, everybody, lets pitch
Everybody in IBD
Pitch so Rupert can get rich.
The balance sheet was off and the intern started to cry,
He tried to trace the problem and on the second try,
The spredsheet started reffing at a quarter to twelve,
He knew it would be an allnighter for this pitch from hell.
Lets pitch, everybody, lets pitch
Everybody in IBD
Pitch so Rupert can get rich.
The world is your oyster*
*WARNING: Please ensure you are not allergic to oysters.
________________________________________
It's your first day at the firm and you're feeling so damn good about yourself. Damn right man, you're an investment banker now. Master of the universe. Big swinging dick. King of the capital markets. You'll be able to have conversations where when asked about what line of work you're in, you reply in sheer American Psycho "muders & executions". The world is your oyster and your heart is beating way too fast to read the health warning. That's for losers anyway. Let the dude in GIR read the fuckin' health warning... hehe. Health warnings are for wimps, not masters of the universe.
You give it a week. Ten days tops, before very single MD will be begging for your advice. You feel like a kid before Christmas as you walk triumphantly into the firm's London headquarters. You can almost hear the Christmas carols in your head.
"Twas the nigh before banking, and the markets were still
waiting for the intern who will make the big kill,
he'll advise on disposals and sponoffs and such,
he'll even get a bonus coz they'll love him so much.
his models will roll and his pitchbooks will rock,
boy all the MDs will be in for a shock,
he'll get jumped to VP just a week in the ranks,
and his name will be feard by the other i-banks"
You open your eyes and absorb the grand reception of the firm's European headquarters. Green marble left right and centre, tall ceilings, a long reception desk to which you start walking triumphantly. As you walk the long stretch of floor between the entrance and the marble, you can feel the beat of the heels of your shoes against the marble floor. It's almost like a song you've heard many many times before. The closer you get to the reception desk, the more clear it becomes, and there it is, just as you are about to reach it, you look around and you know it. It could be the firm's theme song. The sterile smell of freshness, the beat of your soles, the blingy green marble and bang. The christmas songs are replaced by the smooth beat of Jenny from the block.
Almost hitting the reception desk, dazed in bling of "the rocks they got", you come to a stop, ready to grace the firm with your presence. It's the moment they have all been waiting for.
"Can I help you sir?" blurts the receptionist with a smile on her face. "Can she help me?!? WTF?!?" You feel like exploging into a "Don't you know who I am? I am the guy that will be this firm's youngest MD. I will be the guy that will bring in more deals that all the officers combined. I will be" STOP! You realise that she must be new and obviously the fact that she should be expecting the new interns has slipped her mind. Nobody is perfect. You calm down and let her know politely your name, rank and serial number. Your have been welcomed to the world of the individual.
________________________________________
It's your first day at the firm and you're feeling so damn good about yourself. Damn right man, you're an investment banker now. Master of the universe. Big swinging dick. King of the capital markets. You'll be able to have conversations where when asked about what line of work you're in, you reply in sheer American Psycho "muders & executions". The world is your oyster and your heart is beating way too fast to read the health warning. That's for losers anyway. Let the dude in GIR read the fuckin' health warning... hehe. Health warnings are for wimps, not masters of the universe.You give it a week. Ten days tops, before very single MD will be begging for your advice. You feel like a kid before Christmas as you walk triumphantly into the firm's London headquarters. You can almost hear the Christmas carols in your head.
"Twas the nigh before banking, and the markets were still
waiting for the intern who will make the big kill,
he'll advise on disposals and sponoffs and such,
he'll even get a bonus coz they'll love him so much.
his models will roll and his pitchbooks will rock,
boy all the MDs will be in for a shock,
he'll get jumped to VP just a week in the ranks,
and his name will be feard by the other i-banks"
You open your eyes and absorb the grand reception of the firm's European headquarters. Green marble left right and centre, tall ceilings, a long reception desk to which you start walking triumphantly. As you walk the long stretch of floor between the entrance and the marble, you can feel the beat of the heels of your shoes against the marble floor. It's almost like a song you've heard many many times before. The closer you get to the reception desk, the more clear it becomes, and there it is, just as you are about to reach it, you look around and you know it. It could be the firm's theme song. The sterile smell of freshness, the beat of your soles, the blingy green marble and bang. The christmas songs are replaced by the smooth beat of Jenny from the block.
Almost hitting the reception desk, dazed in bling of "the rocks they got", you come to a stop, ready to grace the firm with your presence. It's the moment they have all been waiting for.
"Can I help you sir?" blurts the receptionist with a smile on her face. "Can she help me?!? WTF?!?" You feel like exploging into a "Don't you know who I am? I am the guy that will be this firm's youngest MD. I will be the guy that will bring in more deals that all the officers combined. I will be" STOP! You realise that she must be new and obviously the fact that she should be expecting the new interns has slipped her mind. Nobody is perfect. You calm down and let her know politely your name, rank and serial number. Your have been welcomed to the world of the individual.
