Whoever said, “The man who’s tired of London is tired of life” obviously never worked in the City during the financial crisis. I'm living proof that the crash of Britain's main economic engine has also caused many of its employees to crash.
Last week, as markets plummeted to unfathomable lows, I simply gave up. I stormed out of the office without bothering to put my coat on, and fired up a cigarette, even though I don’t smoke.
It all just seems so hopeless. I’ve been seriously considering “giving it all up,” buying a one-way ticket to Barbados and focusing on coconuts rather than credit spreads.
Bankers in the City have always spun silly stories about how they’re gonna leave it. But in reality, there are extremely few who actually do. My fellow columnist City Boy is the exception that proves the rule.
An acquaintance at Goldman has been there for 11 years, and each year, insists he is going to quit and travel in China, do something interesting with his life, etc. - but never does. Whenever he says he’s going to quit, I know he’ll be there another ten years.
It’s always the same – we wait for one last bonus, one more promotion, etc., before we trade our tube pass for a one-way ticket to paradise. The allure of City money has been so great you’d think it would take something HUGE, like say, oh, a worldwide depression, to make us part with it.
Voila! This cataclysmic slump has come, and yet most laid-off bankers are not in the Caribbean, but still here.
But what if they get run over by a bus tomorrow? The death of banking has lead me to think about my own mortality, and I’ve come up with four telltale signs it’s time for bankers to get out for good:
1. You didn’t get a bonus, and if you did, it wasn't big enough (and never could be).
2. The most satisfying part of your day is your toilet break.
3. When you tell people what you do at parties, you’re met with a chilly, snarky gaze.
4. You fear your actions in the office are so Orwellianly monitored, that you surf to “Bloomberg Muse” section when you want to read something non-financial.
We have been hearing for years and years about how the City pays so exorbitantly because the people who work there are so infinitely talented that they are cheap at $50 million a year. I never particularly bought that line before, but equally, I never imagined that those geniuses would do quite this badly.
If we had paid them their bonuses to go to Barbados, and leave our financial system alone, it would have been a bargain. And maybe I wouldn’t be so tired of London.