6th Year Ivey is Paradise

6am I wake up, I get to teach 6 hours of Chinese kids about finance until noon. Why? Because I get paid boi, and because my brain is so fried I cannot think anymore. This is my calling, nothing else fuels my ego more than Chinese girls thinking I’m the next George Soros.

Noon, I walk to the gym and playing some pickleball. Because working out is for losers and liquidity showed the world pickle ball is real class.

Afternoon, I put on my one and only sweater “the notorious WIC”, and stroll to the Ivey building 1120. I also need to pair this with my summer internship hat from 2023. This is to ensure these peasant hba1s still know I’m relevant and top dog in this small pond.

At WIC, even though I am no longer eligible to be a head analyst, I still actively contribute to discussions. Even though as a 7th year who constantly couldn’t get a return and have to blame on the ongoing trump situation, I need to flex that I am smart and worthy. I pile all my thoughts into Gemini (Claude is maxed out and I can’t afford) and regurgitate word for word back to these youngins. They think I am that guy. Nothing i say is original, because by now, my teaching of the Chinese kids have permanently molded my brain into saying the same formulaic sentences about stock pitches.

I make sure my LinkedIn is purposely cryptic, because saying incoming 2028 analyst isn’t really cool, but just putting analyst makes sure the freshmen will still gas me up.

I give advices to people who didn’t ask because I wish if I followed those advice, maybe I’d be working now instead of pushing school out to get my full time job.

Life is paradise. I’m never fucking leaving - Jordan Belfort.