Holiday Party Tales: The Wives in Finance
Wives in finance are, quite possibly, the most interesting breed of human being in existence. Every time I’ve met a senior partner’s or director’s wife, she is an unknown strain of bizarre, worthless, or mean. It’s become the standard.
Once upon a time, I’d met my managing partner’s wife and, of course, she rolled in on the Wives In Finance Bizarro Train with glitter in her hair and spikey leather pants. She was some sort of faux-rock-and-roll like Avril Lavigne. She had a general disdain for the hoity toity, the schmoozey charity events, and was miserable about basically everything else that came along with being a wealthy fund manager’s wife.
And somehow, she thought we were friends. Maybe this is because I was usually the only other female even close to her age at events. Or maybe she could sense my bitchy undertones. I went with it.
She clung to me at our Christmas party. We drank and made fun of people, talked shit, took pictures, etc… At one point in the evening she said to me “let’s get away from everyone and go to the bathroom real quick”.
I thought we were just going to powder our noses and get away for a second. So when we both walked into the single-person bathroom, I didn’t think anything of it. I started rummaging through my clutch for a lipstick and when I looked over, I saw that she had kicked off her shoes that cost more than my rent, and was squatting barefoot atop the toilet, her underwear pulled to her knees, and she was casually taking a shit in front of me. Just shitting away.
And it wasn’t a little shit; it was a full-sized shit. If this shit was a car, I’d say it was a four door sedan. It was a 7-series shit.
My world started spinning backwards as I realized I was watching my boss’ wife take a shit. All the while, she was still talking away about something, as if it was no big deal. I wondered how many before me had witnessed this Wife In Finance take shits. There must be hundreds. Or at least five or six.
I wondered how to nicely tell her that “no matter what happens, we will never be real friends; your husband signs my paychecks; you cannot shit in front of me like this ever again”? I realized this had gone too far. And I never made eye contact with her again.
-SKIRT (https://twitter.com/talktoskirt)
Skirt, did you think MD/VP wives only drive 7 Series BMWs and not down 7-series feces down the toilet ?
I don't say this often, but this is lame. Way to categorize people. Most wives of people I know in finance are as normal as everyone else.
It wasn't even funny.
I've met a number of "finance" wives, many had successful careers of their own, most were very nice. Sure there were some assholes, but that happens anywhere.
If this in fact happened, how did you spend the rest of your career there without mentioning it to one other person in the firm?
That is a pretty hilarious story. You should have taken a few action shots mid-drop.
On another note, I find the generalization that finance wives are mean, bizarre and/or worthless remarkably inaccurate; I'm curious as to how many of them you've met? It strikes me that the one story you describe above probably skews towards the longer of the interactions you've had... unless you typically spend the better of part of evening with your MDs wives glued to your side.
Most of the finance wives I've met (and we're talking wives of senior bankers/HF/PE guys), are either social do-gooders/devoted moms(60), driven career women(30) or selfish cunts(10). I wouldn't say the distribution across these categories varies significantly from the broader married female population in New York City.
For the record, I was almost certain I was going to hear a Penthouse Letters story. Thanks for disappointing.
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