Summertime and the living is anything but easy
It always bugs me that people seem to have this misconception of bankers when it comes to summer. We always get accused of living it up in Seminyak, but that’s just a lazy generalisation.
One, the big boys do not go to Bali, we go to the Maldives. Two, not everyone has the luxury of going on holiday at all because someone needs to stay behind to keep the operation running.
Now this friend of mine (let’s just call him Mr Director since he has been stuck in that position for so many years) was out drinking with me last week at Wooloomooloo. We were celebrating the end of his hellish days as the only person on his desk before he flew off to Jeju Island for a nice little family vacation.
But bad luck always seems to follow the poor fellow, for just as we were about to finish our bottle of Macallan, he received a call from his boss. In an instant, his Asian flush was replaced by a greenish shade. It turned out that the documents for the block trade he had executed a few hours earlier contained a few typos and someone was needed on the ground to “take care of things”.
What exactly there was for him to take care of was beyond me, since it was the charge-you-by-the-hour lawyers who had made the mistake and would need to make the correction.
“It’s fine, I’ll probably go back and lie down for a few hours," Mr Director said with a shrug. "Worst comes to worst, I’ll meet my family at the airport."
Only if they recognise you, I thought. Now that’s the reality of a banker’s summer.