Being a Loser in High School is Paradise

It’s 9:22 PM and I’m courtside at MSG. Knicks playoff game. Game 5. I’m flanked by my OSU frat bros — Greenberg, Horowitz, and Rosen — all wearing matching Patagonia vests over vintage Dolan-era Knicks jerseys. We just wrapped a casual 14-hour day in the GS bullpen. Live deals only.

Halftime hits. I’m sipping a $27 beer when my phone buzzes. LinkedIn notification.

It’s CJ. My high school bully. Varsity football as a freshman. Shoved me into lockers in front of Stacy, Becky, and Macy — all three cheer captains, all three unfollowed me after sophomore year gym class.

CJ’s message reads: “Hey man — would love to connect sometime if you’re open to chatting!”

I grin. I remember sophomore year — him taking my lunch money, my pride, and my girl (briefly). I remember getting rejected from prom, then rejected from the afterparty, then still somehow paying for the Uber there.

I let it sit. Not because I’m petty. But because I’m booked. (And maybe a little petty.)

Tomorrow I’ll respond. After I finish reviewing my PE offer from KKR. After my midnight call with a partner at PJT. After sending my Bumble match a 3-paragraph explanation on the difference between mezzanine financing and senior secured debt.

Ahhh. Being a loser in high school is paradise.