Wives in finance are, quite possibly, the most interesting breed of human being in existence. Every time I’ve met a senior partner’s or director’s wife, she is an unknown strain of bizarre, worthless, or mean. It’s become the standard.
Once upon a time, I’d met my managing partner’s wife and, of course, she rolled in on the Wives In Finance Bizarro Train with glitter in her hair and spikey leather pants. She was some sort of faux-rock-and-roll like Avril Lavigne. She had a general disdain for the hoity toity, the schmoozey charity events, and was miserable about basically everything else that came along with being a wealthy fund manager’s wife.