I met the chap in Hong Kong years ago, soon after he moved over from London. He loves this city, but his bank transferred him to Brazil for a year or so to help get a trading desk up and running. The lad was up for the adventure, but quickly hated the new office and Rio de Janeiro, and desperately wanted to return to Hong Kong.
Luckily for him, his wish was soon granted and his firm offered him a return to Asia. Jubilant, the chap went about planning a legendary going away party.
The evening before his flight out of Brazil, pints turned into shots and my friend was more than three sheets to the wind. As was almost bound to happen, the lad took a tumble off his bar stool, landing heavily on his shoulder.
At the time he simply shook off the pain, but when he woke up the next afternoon to catch his flight, he realised he wasn’t going to make it.
The poor guy had dislocated his shoulder and required surgery. So, instead of returning to Hong Kong, he was stuck in Rio for another month, forced to work out of the Brazil office while he recovered.
But we bankers never learn, because rather than give up his debaucheries, the chap is now back in Hong Kong — milking his injury for all it’s worth for free sympathy drinks.