Direct Promotion From Summer Analyst to Managing Director Is Paradise

I got an interview with an “A+“ ranked firm (think FTP (140k base btw) / RBC Pre-Insider Trading Scandal / Wells Fargo Pre-Credit Card Crisis) after extensively networking with my father, Mr. K. Rabs. He’s my idol, a cold-and-emotionless machine that clawed his way up the corporate ladder, ignoring his wife, son, and 6-other girlfriends in the process.

During my first-round interview with HR, I answered all of their questions by winking while harassing them throughout the entire process and the interview was cut-short as I was escorted out by security. Needless to say, I knew I got the role. Nova, I guess. I accepted the internship since I planned to lateral to a shop with better WLB and less responsibility (think unemployed / Uvalde cop / MD at Canadian IB Shop).

On the first day, I was bright-eyed while packing a semi-chub at 8,000 basis points (up 5% YoY) after seeing the new receptionist – I was eager to learn and more importantly, I wanted to pound some preemo corpo crunge. My first laptop wasn’t working (think Chinese immigrant, Summa cum laude from HYP) after I punched him in the face since I couldn’t understand what he was saying. So, I busted out a spare and immediately started improving my excel skills by filtering (control H S F) all of the female employees using a cup-size-to-craziness ratio (found some insider info on my father’s drive).

Unfortunately, right after I finished conditional formatting (control H L S) my father walked behind me and peeked at my screen after finishing his hourly round of dropping a deal toy in front of the new receptionist for a quick peek (think D-cup, Blond, only twenty-two years of depreciation). He leans in for a closer look while grabbing my chub (haven’t quite grown into his pants yet) and says “that’s my boy, this list looks great! don’t forget to check our directory for new hires.” After a quick wink, he walks away as I admire his glutes, softly puckering my lips.

After distributing the list to my father, I finish training by reading the table-of-contents of the IB book by Rosenbaum & Pearl. I learned that I need to acquire (think M&A) banker slang and to insert dashes (think “-“) as much as-possible.

I get slightly aroused as my phone vibrates in my pocket. I check Outlook and see that my associate gave me my first task. “Please see attached, can you update this cap table?”

I start sweating profusely, “cap” wasn’t in the IB book, what did he mean? I immediately googled it on my apple watch that I keep on my ankle (I wear an AP and Patek on each hand) when I learn that Cap is a term that means false. I was prepared for this, training taught me exactly what I needed to do. He didn’t actually want me to update anything, he just wanted to see if I understood his banker slang by not updating the table. Grinning proudly, I forwarded the email to my father with the text “No” while CCing all of the other Summer-Interns-,-Analysts-and-Associates to show them that I could pass this initiation with flying colours (think rainbow pre-LGBTQ).

Immediately, there was a collective gasp in the bull-pit as my father steps out of his corner office, B Lining it straight to my desk. He looks straight into my Aryan blue eyes, gazing into the window of my soul. In the corner of my peripheral I see the associate that emailed me viscerally shaking and sweating buckets, sitting criss-cross apple-sauce on his chair with both hands covering his fully-exposed chub.

I knew this was my last test as I smell the electrifying tension building in the air, feeling the gaze of all the juniors peer through me like daggers. However, I hear them rooting for me in their minds so I refocus my attention to my father. I stand up and with my left hand I gently caress his chub which is at 10,000 bps of capacity and say “don’t worry, there’s plenty more wood to chop.” A single tear drips down his cheek… “I am proud of you my son!”

I knew it wasn’t enough, I go around back with my right hand and salaciously stick a finger inside his man-crunge. I gently wisper into his ear “are you feeling it now Mr. Krabs?”

He roars a mighty roar and passes away peacefully while standing as I shout “This is my bull-pen now!” My associate falls forward and passes out while everyone quickly shifts their attention back to their screen as they realize the shift in power dynamics.

I did not receive a single email for the remainder of my 92-day internship (pro-forma for weekends and holidays) and I celebrate by getting a reservation at Dorsia (think gabagool).

Glancing over the return-offer, I knew no other role would fulfill me as much as this one and I finally understood my fathers sacrifices. After looking over my compensation (140k base btw), I signed on the dotted line, accepting my promotion to a managing director. This is paradise.