In This Economy?

NOTE: The following article comes from ITE guestblogger T’tip.

T’tip here, ITE Europe correspondent and sometime (OK, onetime) contributor.

Let’s get straight to the point, shall we? Today I explore the inner workings of a figure that’s done more to galvanize a country (nay, a planet) through hate than former President George W. Bush: the modern Investment Banker.

When it comes to the universally loathed Banker, there is one truism that surely everyone must recognize. Bankers are good at one thing and one thing only: making money.

This is NOT a picture of T'tip... but it's close.

Does this make them fundamentally better than the rest of the population? Of course not. The problem is simply that they think it does, despite all evidence to the contrary (take, for instance, the past year and a half of economic turmoil).

There’s no reason why we should allow them to get away with it. What America needs is a whistleblower. But not one of those by-the-book wimps that whines to the SEC -- and for what? Nothing more than a slap on the wrist and an eventual second chance to fuck over the population.

What we need is an inside job. The service of someone who, on one hand, knows what it’s really like behind the curtain but, on the other, has not suffered from the delusions of money, power and the pursuit of More. History has proven to us that many of the most powerful empires in history lose their ability to control when the veil of secrecy is thrown aside. Investment bankers will be no exception.

I know this because I am one of them.

I’m not ashamed to admit it. (OK, maybe a little ashamed, but I compensate for that by hoarding cash and drinking too much.) A banker’s raison d’être, if you will, is to constantly, mercilessly pursue the pervasive dollar. No true banker is content until their coffers overflow with classic sports cars, cushy trust funds, priceless artifacts and millions of bucks (or bones or clams or whatever you call them). To pass on their knowledge to the masses is to undermine the so-called masters of high finance, rendering their imagined status useless and reminding them that their turds stink every bit as much as the next person’s. A stench even $35,000 toilets can’t mask.

The challenge here is to pass on some of my wisdom without sounding like a huge cock. I’ll probably fail miserably, but let’s give it a shot.  In this economy, you’d be foolish not to listen.

We’re going to do this in sort of a list.

SOME OF MY INVESTMENT BANKERISH WISDOM

1). Watch Glengarry Glen Ross. Repeat. Repeat again as necessary. Act exactly like Blake (Alec Baldwin’s character). Thank me later.

2). Contrary to popular belief, do not watch Wall Street. And for christ’s sake, forget that Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps is about to exist.

3). Think up ever more convoluted ways of selling crazy financial instruments to people without any regard for cost to society.

A short example of how this works:

Dexter: Let’s sell mortgages to people who can’t afford them!

Riley: Yeah! Then let’s package said mortgages into a collateralized debt obligations, sell off the riskiest parts to people who don’t know what the fuck they’re buying, while at the same time making a massive fee and suffering absolutely no downside if things go wrong!

[Dexter nods vigorously.]

[Riley grins widely.]

Dexter: Wait. This might destroy the global economy for years, causing a deep recession, prevalent unemployment and cataclysmic events to unfold not only in the banking system, but several other major industries!

Riley: Whatever. We’ll be rich.

[**High Five**]

Dexter and Riley (in unison): THIS is why we’re awesome!

4). ONLY (and this is important) order drinks by name. Vodka tonic? Fuck you. It’s Grey Goose and tonic. Shot of tequila? Wrong, you plebe. Patrón on the rocks with a twist of lime. A glass of champagne? No, no, no, no, no, no… no. That’ll be Krug, and you’ll have a magnum. Vintage (as if it were an option). Yeah, 1988 was a good year.

5). When ordering business cards, the only acceptable shade is “bone”.

6). You know the phrase, “Dress for the job you want, not the one you have”? Whoever said that was a dickbag. Dress better than the CEO whose daughter you fucked last week. Bonus suggestion: fly over a Savile Row tailor from London to avoid looking like a complete slob.

7). If you’re not screaming every horrific obscenity you can think of at the top of your lungs each day at the office, you’re not trying hard enough. Pounding keyboards and smashing phones on the desk isn’t just acceptable; it’s encouraged. Bonus points for throwing your stapler. At an intern. In the teeth.

8). Your worth as a human being is directly proportional to the number of monitors on your desktop. I have six (nine if you count the desk in Paris). I.T. geeks are prone to bribery and will accept prostitutes as legal tender.

9). Cocaine. It’s not just a Clapton song.

10). A old Prussian army saying states (I’m paraphrasing), “A good leader is one who stands up to his generals and for his soldiers”. To be a successful banker, take that logic and apply it in the exact opposite direction. Sucking up is absolutely crucial. Have no doubt about it. They call me Ankles because I’m so far up my boss’ ass, they’re the only part of me you can see. Prussia doesn’t even exist anymore, probably because their army didn’t have a fucking clue.

So there you have it.

Umm… yeah.  Looking back, it seems all I’ve done is list a ton of different ways to be a pennywrink. This doesn’t help at all. It seems I’ve failed.

Fuck it. I’m going shopping for a Porsche this weekend. I’ll see you all in hell.

Tags: banker on the inside, banks, guestblog, guestblogger, T'tip

This entry was posted on Wednesday, January 20th, 2010 at 3:17 PM and is filed under Humor. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.