You look out your midtown apartment window to behold the hustle and bustle of New York. You roll out of bed, throw on your suit, and avoid your roommates on your way out.
You were once just another non-target econ major at an accounting firm, but after a brief stint in FDD, you landed an IB offer.
Now, the biggest bonus of your life is set to come through this week. The fantasy of six figures hitting your bank account permeates your mind as you duck sidewalk sheds and keep pace with the commuters.
You are surrounded by cars, suits, and the ever-present scent of weed. Your posture looks good in the window reflections. You strut with the grace and confidence of a native New Yorker.
You take the elevator, find the room number, scoot through the foyer, and sit amongst the cluster of desks and monitors. You’re usually alone until the VP arrives mid morning. Three of the four partners work remotely, and the 87 year old founder emerges from his Greenwich cathedral maybe once a quarter.
You whip out your HP and open Outlook. No new emails. Your first task is a networking call with an 18 year old history major.
“I never needed an MBA” you assert. Undergrads like him ping you weekly. You visit your school’s career center as a “distinguished alumnus”. You are a rose that grew from concrete.
You preach about hard work, then end the call before he can ask for an internship. You have deals to execute.
Your VP still isn’t here to assign you anything, so after 15 minutes of “industry research”, you give up and scroll Reddit for two hours.
The office is still empty. VP pings that he’s running late from a personal appointment. Sure, whatever. Almost lunchtime.
Hold on, call incoming. You recognize the number.
“Hello, I’m a recruiter at Selby Chapman covering investment banking in New York! How are you?” Her wave of enthusiasm blasts your eardrum.
“Fine thanks! Great to speak with you again.”
“Again?”
“Yes, you and I discussed an associate role at Pierce & Pierce. Any update on that?”
“I don’t know about that, but I’m calling to learn about your background. I see you work in investment banking, tell me about that.”
This is the fourth conversation you’ve had with her in six months. “Ah, maybe I’m mistaking you for one of your colleagues.”
You rehash how you’re working “day and night on multiple fast-paced deals”. Your “multiple deals” are a throwaway pitch you haven’t started and a zero-bidder sale process for a $3m revenue “premium cardboard” producer that is probably bankrupt by now.
“What was your GPA?”
“…3.1, but my senior year major GPA was actually—“
“Great, thanks for your time!”
You wish you had the last 15 minutes back.
As you finish lunch, your VP suddenly appears and slinks to his desk without saying hi. He pokes his combover over the monitors and asks for a summary of recent transactions for the quarterly marketing email.
You spend two hours asking ChatGPT for recent deals with familiar sounding companies. You know the work is subpar, but you turn it in anyways.
VP sighs loudly, then stands over your desk to teach you how to gather comps. As you muddle through, you blurt, “CapIQ is clunky huh? Never used it before.”
He becomes exasperated and walks out the door. Five minutes later he texts, “I’ll do it, please use the additional time to learn. Then finish the pitch deck, including comps analysis.” Nice.
Evening rolls around. You finish the deck and submit for review. You put a $150 dinner on your credit card as a reward for your hard work and incoming bonus.
You pop back in the office once more. No VP, no emails. After checking your parlays for 15 minutes, you pack up.
Just before stepping in the elevator, you get an email reply.
“Next time please highlight sections that have many outstanding items, or mark them ‘unfinished’. Turn these comments around asap.” The file is littered with yellow comment boxes.
This “potential client” hasn’t replied to the firm’s emails in two months. The pitch will never happen, certainly not tomorrow. You work through midnight.
You submit v2 and head home. Surely further changes can wait until morning.
Your bedtime routine is interrupted by an email. “This is unacceptable work. Please wrap up these further changes by 8am. We need this ready asap.” The file is still covered in comments. The Managing Partner is CC’d.
Your keyboard clacks through the night, echoing off the bedroom walls. The model is riddled with hardcodes. The deck looks gross. Eventually v3 is submitted as the sun rises.
You notice your annual bonus came through. Perhaps eliminating your credit card debt today will numb some of the pain.
The bonus is $3,000.
That doesn’t make sense.
You scan through your offer letter for bonus language. “Annual bonuses are at the firm’s discretion and based on a variety of factors…”
But they said bonus would be “market rate”…isn’t market rate supposed to be a lot more?
You check your debt balances:
Credit card: $45,000 Student loans: $214,000
Your numbness transitions to sleep.
You are awoken by your roommates in the other room blabbering about $3m houses in Westchester. They make $500k each reacting to tik tok brainrot.
“Comparison is the thief of joy,” you mutter as another round of comments hits your inbox.
SIX MONTHS LATER
You wake up in your childhood twin bed. The southern heat oppresses the room, even with the fan blowing. You smell breakfast.
Your dad made you a bacon omelette with hashbrowns and pancakes. It’s a kind gesture. Something is up.
Your dad is working on his mustang outside. As you step into the garage to unload the dryer, he pops his head up.
“Son, you have a second?”
“Sure dad.”
He must be kicking you out. Spilling your guts last night about your debt and gambling addiction was the final straw for him. You should’ve held it in.
“You know, that accounting job and CTA thing you’re doing…”
“CPA dad.”
“Sure, whatever. Well, I just want you to know…”
Oh boy here we go.
“…I’m proud of you. Your mom would’ve been too. I’m sorry for my part in all this. You’re doing a good job, and you can stay here as long as you need.”
You feel like a little kid again as he gives you a big hug. You resolve to rebuild your life. “I’m sorry for running away dad.”
Quitting IB and reconnecting with your dad is paradise.
Based on the most helpful WSO content, this narrative captures the highs and lows of working in a lower middle market (LMM) investment banking firm. It highlights the stark contrast between the perceived glamour of the industry and the reality of long hours, challenging work environments, and unpredictable compensation. While the story is fictional, it resonates with many professionals who have experienced the grind of IB, especially in smaller firms where resources and deal flow can be limited.
The key takeaways here are:
Reality Check on Bonuses: The expectation of "market rate" bonuses often doesn't align with the reality in smaller firms, where bonuses are discretionary and heavily dependent on firm performance and deal flow.
Work-Life Balance: The narrative underscores the lack of balance, with late nights, constant revisions, and the pressure to deliver, even for deals that may never materialize.
Career Reflection: The protagonist's journey from IB to reconnecting with family reflects a broader theme of reassessing priorities and finding value beyond the paycheck.
Debt and Financial Strain: The crushing weight of student loans and credit card debt is a common theme for many in the industry, especially those starting out.
This story serves as a reminder that while IB can be lucrative and prestigious, it's not without its challenges, particularly in smaller firms where the support and rewards may not match the effort. For those considering a career in IB, it's crucial to weigh the pros and cons and align career choices with personal goals and values.
Sources: Bonuses for Investment Banking 2017, 2017 Commercial/Corporate Banking Bonuses, 2018 Investment Banking Report: 8 Trends in the Industry, Bonuses for Investment Banking 2017, 2017 Investment Banking Report: 8 Key Trends to Know
Should’ve posted this on Father’s Day.
Don’t you know the day after Mother’s Day is the start of the Father’s Day season?
The New York Times described this as “Thrilling, and emotionally commanding.”
I began with anger as my PTSD from incompetent and lazy analysts flared up, but by the end my anguish did subside; and I’d remembered that I need to spend more time with my dad as he’s turning 78 this year.
Damn. Of all the f*cking places never did I think an “is paradise” post would make me realise the important things in life.
Jesus
The ending became simultaneously dark and wholesome quickly. This feels almost too real to be fiction.
I believe OP uses WSO as his personal journal
These derivative posts infuriate me
The most LMM thing here is only "v3"
+1 and Handle checks out
Voluptas minima cumque quia. Sunt eum totam eius ab. Id blanditiis veritatis voluptatum et natus autem.
Omnis et soluta at ab ut provident ut. Deleniti explicabo id optio. Voluptatum et vero provident alias eum dolorem delectus. Minus distinctio delectus et magnam nemo eius doloribus.
See All Comments - 100% Free
WSO depends on everyone being able to pitch in when they know something. Unlock with your email and get bonus: 6 financial modeling lessons free ($199 value)
or Unlock with your social account...