The U.S. Sovereign Wealth Fund is Paradise
It’s 7:00 AM, and I wake up in my Georgetown apartment to a text from my MD: “Need a deck on strategic lithium reserves by noon. Use the DoD template.” I have no idea what that means, but I nod, sip my government-subsidized coffee, and get to work.
By 8:30 AM, I’m at my desk in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, surrounded by former Goldman guys who rebranded as “patriotic investors.” Our mandate? Deploy $1 trillion of taxpayer money into “high-priority national interests.” In reality, we’re LARPing as PE bros while writing checks to companies with more lobbyists than revenue.
At 10:00 AM, we have an IC meeting. The Secretary of Commerce dials in, asking why we aren’t buying up more farmland. The MD replies, “Sir, we already own 15% of Iowa.” We nod solemnly. America first.
Lunch is catered from the White House Mess Hall. I sit next to a guy from the Pentagon’s “AI Readiness Task Force.” He assures me that investing $500M into a surveillance drone startup run by a 24-year-old Stanford dropout is critical for national security. I write “synergies?” in my notes and take a bite of my taxpayer-funded steak.
By 3:00 PM, we’re structuring a bailout for a failing EV battery company. Treasury wants it to be a loan, but the MD insists on pref equity with board seats. “We’re not just capital—we’re strategic.” Everyone nods, except for the one career bureaucrat who still thinks this is about fiscal responsibility.
At 6:00 PM, I’m working on a term sheet for an emergency lithium mining JV with some guys in Wyoming. The deal terms? Equity upside, mineral rights, and a direct line to the Fed for liquidity. Somewhere, Larry Fink sheds a single tear of pride.
By 9:00 PM, the interns are arguing whether we should issue high-yield bonds backed by military surplus. Someone jokes about tokenizing Social Security. Everyone laughs, but someone writes it down.
At 11:30 PM, I close my laptop and stare at the framed photo of Teddy Roosevelt in my office. I realize I’m no longer just a finance guy—I’m a statesman.
This is the most prestigious exit.
This is paradise.
Hell yeah
Would be a sick job.
Fr, I'm on the edge of my seat waiting for that headhunter inbound.
This is it - the holy grail of exit opps.
I feel this post will be scary accurate in a few years despite being written the day of announcement
Should absorb In-Q-Tel, Black Opal, and DIU.
"Everyone laughs, but someone writes it down."
Absolute gold
The bar for ....is Paradise posts is back! MIPGA!
Quality content!
Entertaining read, but we know nobody works that many hours in DC
Some fantastic writing ngl. Well done.
Now here’s a guy who sets his alarm for 7:00 AM in Georgetown, grabs a government-subsidized coffee like it’s free Gatorade on the sideline, and sprints straight into the red zone of national “strategic investments.” Instead of analyzing third-and-long scenarios on farmland acquisitions, he’s calling audibles on trillion-dollar taxpayer money, deploying it faster than a no-huddle offense. One minute, they’re locking down 15% of Iowa like it’s a home-field advantage; the next, they’re huddled with Department of Defense folks, trying to figure out how a 24-year-old drone startup can land a $500M contract for “national security.”
But get this: lunchtime feels like the NFL draft war room, everyone’s got their own picks. The Secretary of Commerce wants farmland, the Pentagon wants AI surveillance, and the MD is out here structuring bailout plays for every EV battery company that can carry the ball over the pylon. It’s basically a constant two-minute drill of writing checks with Uncle Sam’s name on ‘em. By 9 PM, they’re drawing up fourth-quarter trick plays, like issuing high-yield bonds backed by military surplus and joking about tokenizing Social Security (someone’s definitely writing that down). By the time our guy stares at Teddy Roosevelt’s portrait at 11:30 PM, he realizes this is no mere finance gig, it’s a full-on Super Bowl of government-backed dealmaking. And for him? That’s absolute paradise.
Wonder how they’ll comp
ahhahaha fucking gold
You're still at work at 6:00 PM, let alone 11:30PM, how is that paradise?
It sounds like Dwight Schrute's Hotel Hell fantasy from the Office, where even in your wildest dreams you don't want to go home at a reasonable time.
Serving the nation comes at a hefty price son, your forefathers had to go up French beaches guarded by SS soldiers in 1944, your duty is to spray tax payer money and align logos until 1am. Will you answer the call?
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