Interviewing in the City has always been a horrific experience. But now that the recession is in full swing, the term “horrific” has been taken to a whole different level. With so many City types out of work, competition is fierce; bankers looking for jobs now resemble hyenas chasing after the last rabbit on the savannah.
The good news is that if you managed to receive an interview invitation, the institution concerned clearly thinks you check one or two of their requirements. The bad news is that you will probably have a lot more than one. Indeed, at the top investment houses, Goldman Sachs for instance, it’s not unheard of to face 10 or 15 separate interviews with different people before they decide to offer you a job. The first portion of the interview tests your intellect – or rather, your affinity for numbers. The second stage of the interview, should you get this far, tests your sanity. This is, admittedly, ironic given how many crazies you will end up working with in the City, if you hang around long enough.
A twist of fate found me with the upper hand last week when I interviewed a trader. He was qualified to be my boss, old enough to be my father, and yet there he was sitting in the conference room, begging me for a job. After 15 years of unflinching devotion to his old bank, he had been laid off in one of those unfortunate mass firings last fall.
With a job market this tight, the omnipotent City banks have more bargaining power than ever. Some of my meaner colleagues are relishing the power trip, offering up teacher’s salaries to their interviewees, or just making other outrageous demands to see how they react.
I went to a production called “Roaring Trade” at the Soho Theatre, only to watch art imitate life. Here, sexy banker “Jess” interviews anxiety-stricken candidate, “Donny:”
Jess: Kind of feels more natural – looking down on you, when you’re trying to win my favour. It’s a power-thing. Me standing, you sitting. Better still, you could crouch on the floor in front of me.
Donny: Why do you want me on the floor?
Jess: I want a lapdog. This is McSorley’s. Second largest bank in the square mile. Half our traders break the million pound barrier. How far are you prepared to go?
Donny: (He swallows.)
Jess: You think I’m gonna employ you – line your pocket – without taming your arse first? Wrong. You arrogant fuckers need someone who can squash you. Don’t you?
She then proceeds to undress him.
Sure, the City is notorious for it’s horrific people and postures, but I can’t help thinking with a recession this unforgiving, we can afford to show the laid-off some mercy.