I’ll do anything but public speaking

Dear TT,

Take the gig. But before I get into why, please do one thing first: email or pick up the phone to your communications team and make sure they’ve signed off on it.

In most banks, comms is either the source of these invitations or the office nudging you to accept them in the first place. Either way, they’re the gatekeepers.

Banks have finicky rules about who is authorised to speak on their behalf and in what context, and usually require sign-off from the comms commissars.

So their approval is essentially the bank telling you that yes, this forum is appropriate, and yes, we want you there, and finally yes, we trust you to represent us. That blessing is your safety net. Without it, you’re freelancing — or more accurately, freediving — which is where bankers get into trouble.

Once that’s done, the rest is really about you. Here’s where I want to push back on the way you’re characterising this situation. I think you got it wrong.

You’re treating this opportunity as full of downside risk with marginal upside. It’s really the reverse. Unless you plan to be crudely undiplomatic or wildly tasteless on stage, the downside is basically nil.

And honestly, if you were that sort of person, you wouldn’t have lasted in an investment bank long enough to get the invitation.

Conference audiences, in my experience, are tolerant to the point of being actively supportive. The folks in the audience either don’t care about you or are rooting for you. No one is sitting in the third row hoping you’ll commit a career-ending gaffe. Usually attendees are looking to network, more than anything else.

And here’s the bit people forget: no one remembers what you said anyway. They remember that you showed up, sounded competent, didn’t drool on your clothes, and didn’t embarrass yourself or the firm. It’s a lower bar than you think. You don’t need to be a spellbinding orator.

What you do get is real. You get reps at public speaking, which is a skill that I believe serves one well over the course of a career. You get visibility.

You may even open doors you didn’t know existed. Clients notice, headhunters notice and your own management notices. You’ve created a bit of optionality. Think of it as a free call option, which as a trading pro you know is valuable, even if for the time being it’s out-of-the-money.

Now let me touch on the the bigger point, because I think this is really what’s bothering you.

You say you came to the bank to trade bonds, not to faff around with this kind of stuff. Fair enough.

But I’d submit that the job you think you signed up for and the job that actually exists are not quite the same thing anymore. We are all ambassadors for our firms now, whether we like it or not. We’re representatives, role models, walking advertisements for the brand.

The social and public-facing element of banking is no longer optional, and frankly, I don’t see how it could be. The version of the job where you just sat at a desk and traded your book and were left alone — all that died with Volcker.

Once prop trading was curtailed, the whole logic of being an anonymous specialist trading your own P&L went with it. You’re in the client business now. Clients want to see you, hear from you, and think they can trust you. Panels are part of that.

So: if your bank wants you on stage, get on stage. Treat it as a chance to put your best foot forward in front of an audience that wants you to do well.

You’ll be fine. But don’t leave it entirely to luck either. Prepare. Practice. Don’t wing it. Then go and have a perfectly fine half hour that you’ll forget about by the following week, but which may pay you back for years.

Saying no, on the other hand, sends a signal you don’t want to send.

Just do it,

Craig