In practicing your semi-mastered Excel shortcuts, a flash of unsettling existential dread enters and exits your mind after mistakenly CTRL ➡️ CTRL ⬇️ to the unspoken depths of cell XFD1048576 in your spreadsheet.
“…And this is what’s called a discounted cash flow equation, or as some folks like to call it, a Dee See Eff model – but that’s mostly jargon used by overpaid finance professionals” the man says with a subtly self-conscious chuckle.
Right. Like he would know anything about what investment banking or private equity professionals ought to be paid. The last time your mid-50s, former CPA, formerly-productive-member-of-society professor likely got a dose of the real world outside his academic bubble was when his net worth was sliced in half in his divorce.
“Does anyone know why we call it a ‘discounted’ cash flow model?”
You stare forward at the projected PowerPoint slides, take a quick glance down at your laptop screen, before risking a sideways glance left, sideways glance right. Crickets. It’s hard to gauge how the other students are reacting behind you from your desk in the front row.
“Come on, anyone?”
Looking for the assist, he makes eye contact with you, knowing that if anyone’s going to show even a modicum of interest in his dull corporate finance class, it’s you. Feigning a disinterested yet charitable concession, you raise your hand just enough to be seen but to pass as unenthusiastic.
“Yes! you?” he says with a grateful smile.
“Because a dollar today is worth more than a dollar tomorrow, soooo when we want to value a company we… need to account for the time value of money by discounting the cash flows.”
“Exactly right, and that’s why when we look at companies…” but your attention fades at the dopamine hit of ‘exactly right’.
As the lecture drags on with the topic you already learned about in your in-depth reading of Rosenbaum & Pearl’s “Investment Banking” (a $112 investment in your future career), you let your mind continue drifting off, hoping and imagining that the cute girl (~3.5 GPA) sitting three rows behind and two columns to the left of you sees the beautifully formatted Excel model on your laptop screen. Girls like finance guys – once you’re in a banking role and they see that you’re a highly-valuable mate who will generate more resources than your competition to provide for her and your offspring, you’ll be picking from the of the cream of the crop.
On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t take that reading of Sapiens so literally.
Time restarts at:
“so each group will have four members, and you’ll work on the assignment together and present your Dee See Eff model in three weeks.”
Your heartbeat quickens, induced from the panic of not hearing what the assignment was. Saving you from the embarrassment of asking, the guy (~3.0 GPA) two seats behind you luckily asks:
“Can you go over the instructions again?”
“Yes, and I’ll have them posted with the due date in three weeks on the student portal.”
The nerve of this former auditor to give a future investment banker a homework assignment. The gall.
“…Like I already put as much detail as I could in my resume, it’s so dumb that the business department is micromanaging our lives and forcing us to go to the job fair,” says your group partner (~2.9 GPA) to the left of you at the circular library table. Sure buddy, he’s got the idea – his future career hocking life insurance at Northwestern Mutual promises to be bright. He’s lucky his friend is dragging him into your group.
“Are they making you go you? You could get like, any job you want probably with your grades,” says another group member (~3.6 GPA) across from you. Probably. You’ll let that one slide – keep your cool – because this guy is the only one besides you who will do any real work on this project.
“Yeah I’m gonna go, probably toss my resume on a few tables and then leave after 10 minutes. It’s not like JP Morgan or Bank of America are recruiting here,” you say. Truthfully, the worst part is needing to dress up for 10 whole minutes.
Mr. Northwestern Mutual chimes back in: “Dude don’t even worry about that. My brother’s friend got a teller job at Bank of America so you should be fine getting one just applying online, this in-person stuff doesn’t matter.” Errrrrr, that one you’d better correct – can’t have people thinking you’re striving to work at a bank branch next to a 7/11.
“Well actually I’m talking like, their investment banking arms. Networking is pretty important so if they were here I’d be talking to them the whole job fair. Since our school is a non-target the boutiques like PJT Partners or Centerview Partners won’t be here either,” you say. At that, all three group partners individually yet simultaneously reply with:
“—dude I love the Wolf of Wall Street, trading stocks is badass!”
“—those sound like law firms dude, why would you want that?”
“—what do you mean by non-target?”
You squint your eyes and open your mouth just slightly, preparing to right the ship for a second time, but pause when you spot an email notification on your laptop screen from Bildgewater Capital Advisors.
“Actually I gotta run. I’ll work on a draft of the model over the weekend and send it to you guys to look at.” Since your group was assigned a valuation of the new innovative high-flying technology company IBM, you figure you can build it out and correct any mistakes by re-watching Martin Shkreli’s finance lecture from 2017 when he valued it on his livestream.
Your face is warm and glows as you read the email reply from the Bildgewater Investment Banking Associate, your mouth creeping into a wider and wider grin as the words go on.
…I was a student at small university once too, so I’m always happy to help out people trying to break in. Next Tuesday afternoon looks good for coffee, as our pitch for a client is in the morning so I should be free as long as there aren’t any fire drills…
To think – Bildgewater Capital Advisors! This is your ticket in. Who needs Goldman Sachs? Bildgewater carved its own niche advising first-time sellers in the plumbing and HVAC sector with EBITDA between $750,000 and $2,000,000. This will be the second year in a row they’ve won a Greater Northeast US Top 100 Investment Bank award and boast a record year with two closed deals. Two whole deals with just 11 bankers (well, 7 bankers, since 4 employees are office staff).
You hurriedly type out a response, aiming to strike the perfect balance between ambitious, grateful, and casual:
Thanks Associate, it’s heartening to know that your hard work got you to where you are today. I’d love the opportunity to meet on Tuesday morning, and was thinking we could meet at…
The butterflies return in force as you finish the final sentence – you just have to hit send and you’ve punched your ticket in, surely. Reading it over, your heart skips a beat and your hand flies to correct “morning” to “afternoon.” That one would’ve cost you.
After quintuple-checking all three sentences, you schedule send the email for one-and-a-half hours from now – don’t want to look desperate.
After grabbing a second, emergency pen from the small front pouch, you re-place your backpack on the ground next to your chair at the corner table of the swanky, middling coffee shop. It’s heavier than usual since it’s carrying your copies of the Rosenbaum & Pearl textbook and “Barbarian’s at the Gate” – lifelines that will surely give you something to bond over if your personalities’ don’t hit it off.
You review your notes on the legal notepad: skiing, trying new cocktails, fantasy football, tennis in high school and hiking (probably). For an opportunity like this, you had to go beyond his LinkedIn profile. Your sleuthing led you to the Associate’s Facebook, private Instagram profile (whose profile picture depicts him standing at a trailhead), and a Twitter account that hasn’t posted since 2017.
You flip the notepad back to the blank first page, concealing your cheatsheet. No need to let Associate know there’s a stalker in his midst. You open your phone and start mechanically scrolling Twitter, looking blankly at the blurred screen as you rehearse things again in your mind.
Before long, a well-dressed 6’0” gargoyle walks through the front entrance.
The young man looks around for a moment before making eye contact with you (you’re the only person under 40 in this café at 2PM on a Tuesday), sporting a wave that morphs into a gesture of “be over in a minute or two,” he turns 90 degrees and stares down at his phone, standing behind the only other person ordering at the counter.
Four minutes later he approaches the table, takeout coffee cup and folio in his left hand, his right hand outstretched for a handshake. You stand, smile, and introduce yourself:
“Hi Mr. Associate, it’s great to – “
“Please – just Associate, heh! I’m super casual man, no need for the formalities.”
“Uh—Oh yeah of course, it’s great to meet you Associate. I’m you. So how’d the pitch go this morning?” hoping it’s not too intrusive of a question.
“Ahhhhhhh my MD said it went well, took the client out to breakfast and chatted him up. He’s an old friend of his so we think we’ve got this one in the bag. We think we’ll be able to put together a killer sim for the seller.”
Sim? Simulation? You’ll need to look that up later. As he lifts his cup to sip coffee, you notice some strikingly maligned yellow teeth. For a microsecond, you experience doubt that you could work as a subordinate to someone so obviously hideous compared to you. Your better judgement quickly pushes the thought away. Keep your eyes on the prize, man.
The conversation flows, if “conversation” can be considered as the Associate giving you back-to-back soliloquies where the only words you slip in are: “Oh really?” “Wow that’s awesome” and “Aw no way” sprinkled in between. You wonder if this guy’s ever tried breathing between sentences.
After 28 minutes where you managed to ask one (1) real question, the Associate pulls his phone from his pocket while saying:
“I told my MD I was meeting with a student today – showed him your resume since we’re thinking about bringing on an intern for the spring anyways. I don’t want to make any promises but I’ll see if he wants to meet with you – I think you’d make a great fit —” Out of the corner of your eye you see your Apple watch displaying a ‘High Heart Rate’ notification. “— I mean, you’re personable and great at holding a conversation.”
A burst of air puffs from your nose at that one.
“Send me a follow up after this and we’ll see about getting you into the office to chat – nothing serious, MD is great one-on-one and will just want to make sure you’re not crazy. I wouldn’t even call it an interview.”
Levitating out of your chair, you thank him, shake hands, and throw up a casual wave goodbye before he turns to leave. You sit back down and hold back your smile until he’s out of sight.
I did it, you think as a short-haired barista girl (~1.8 GPA) collects the empty coffee cups and unused napkins from your table.
That, stunningly enough, was that.
You shift again, trying to find a comfortable way to sit on the padded wall bench that was clearly meant to look like a seat, but not one the designers ever intended for someone to use other than as a place to reshuffle their books before continuing on walking.
T+2 days since your meeting with Associate, and your “interview” with the Bildgewater MD is scheduled for Monday. It’s a bit loud with the job fair taking up the high-ceiling’ed activity center, but since you’ve got the IB internship practically on lock, you’ll leave the plebians (0.0 – 3.8 GPA’s) to fight for these data entry and “financial advisor” roles to work on your group project.
Added benefit – the cute girl from class walked by and you think you caught her looking in your direction for 0.5 seconds. Perhaps maybe you should think about possibly asking for her number, she’s giving all the signs.
You re-count the number of students clustered around the table of the single Big Four accounting firm who showed up to the fair (Ernst & Young): 10 students now, down from 13 ten minutes ago. You almost feel bad for them. You puff air out of your nose, smile, and look back down at your laptop when you hear:
“Eyyyy man, do that homework another time, you joining us for Thirsty Thursday after this!?” approaches Northwestern Mutual alongside your smart group member. At this rate, you think NWM might be out of reach for this gentleman – Primerica might be more his speed.
“Dude don’t corrupt him, he actually has a future unlike you,” your 3.6 GPA group partner corrects. Prescient, Muad’dib! You haven’t told anyone about Bildgewater in fear of jinx’ing it, but his friendly compliment warms you more than usual since there’s evidence of your greatness now, even if he doesn’t know it yet.
“I’m just saying we’ve got like, 2 more weeks until we need to present, loosen up!” Primerica retorts.
“Whatever,” concedes the smart one. It’s good that they’re here, you haven’t made any effort to walk around or talk to anyone beyond the required sign-in sheet, so at least this gives you an alibi if any nosey faculty thinks you left immediately. After all, you’ve now stayed at the fair going on 20 minutes.
“I’m probably just going to head back and go to bed soon, it’s been a long week already,” you say. Well, a long week if you count winning an enviable spot in the pinnacle of internships at a prestigious investment bank. Most bright-eyed finance majors couldn’t even imagine scraping the clouds of Mount Olympus, and here you are figuratively at the gates with a ticket in-hand.
Another 60 seconds of cordial, surface-level conversation and they turn away, probably to go flirt with HR girls behind the dozens of non-profit company tables. Time to make your Irish goodbye.
On the way to your car, your phone begins to vibrate in your pocket. Taking it out, you see it’s your hometown high school friend (N/A GPA) you usually hang out with on summer and winter breaks. A slight uneasiness overcomes you – it’s unusual to hear from him during the semester. Hoping against any bad news, you accept the call.
“Heeeyyy buddy, how you doin’? Sorry for calling you out of the blue, it’s just been a crazy week and had to give you an update,” he says enthusiastically.
At the very least, it doesn’t sound like he electrocuted himself in his electrician’s apprenticeship, so it’s safe for you to exhale.
“Nah man, always good to hear from you, what’s up?”
“Dude, I proposed to Jessica today – I’m getting f-cking married man.”
The ying of elation rushes into your mind, perfectly balanced with the yang of envy in your heart. I’m not behind you tell yourself – besides, you don’t want to get in a relationship because it might get in the way of your career goals. You could totally get a girlfriend if you wanted, you assure yourself.
“Wow man, that’s awesome! Congrats! How did yo—” but he cuts you off with:
“And on top of that, tomorrow my buddy and I in the apprenticeship are quitting to start our own electrician business now that we’re certified!”
You can feel the yang start to overtake you. You quickly try to think through the economics of an electrician’s business and roughly estimate that you’ll still have a higher net worth than him by the time you’re 29. Plus, he was never that bright, so his foray into entrepreneurship will probably fail – that also means that on a risk-adjusted earnings basis you’ll make more than him as an investment banking intern.
“That’s great – but also a lot of risk, are you sure you’re ready after just two years?”
“Dude we already got two jobs lined up, so we think we’re gonna be making bank. Sorry, I’m just so f-cking excited – how’s your semester? Hounding any ladies?”
You consider telling him about Bildgewater, but again stop yourself from testing fate. Rather, you opt for going good so far to quiz question one and nah man to quiz question two.
Three minutes of catching up on the hometown gossip, a final congrats, and a promise to hang out after the semester’s over – call ended. Another exhalation, standing at the driver’s side door of your 2014 Honda Civic.
You can’t help but feel a tinge of guilt that you’ll be depriving your high school pal of your presence to work grueling, fast-paced 100-hour weeks. But it’s what you must do; it’s what you will do.
Going to a non-target school is paradise.
