Time for bankers to lord it over people
It’s become a cliché to call bankers Masters of the Universe. It would be much closer to the truth to describe them as Slaves of the Client.
No matter how big your office — even if it’s in the corner — however far you climb the greasy pole the client will always be above you with some tiresome request. I’ve lost track of the complaints from my friends moaning that their firm thinks it’s entirely reasonable that they be working late, even on weekends and holidays, if it is what makes the client happy.
Fed up of being some corporate's lapdog, a friend of mine decided he wanted to be his own boss. So instead of buying the new BMW, he used his bonus to open a new bar in Lan Kwai Fong.
I went to visit him to congratulate him on finally becoming master of his own destiny, free from the late night calls from clients. But it seems the grass is not always greener on the other side.
“I’m wouldn’t say I’m living the dream,” my buddy chuckled bittersweetly. Turns out that running a bar at the heart of the world’s most expensive piece of land is no picnic. He now admits to working even crazier hours than he used to, and all to fatten his landlord’s bank account.
He’s now decided to buy some property and become a landlord himself instead. It certainly beats working for a living.