Public arse-whipping
Why are you such a fat bastard?” said the posh salesman to
the barrow-boy trader, who admittedly looked like he’d been on the notoriously
unsuccessful “all-pie” diet. The recipient of this rather innocuous insult
swung around in his seat and with perfect comic timing delivered the oft-used
but still classic response: “Because every time I shag your wife, she gives me
a biscuit.”
While Oscar Wilde may not have viewed this exchange as witty enough to include
in his more sophisticated works, it got the surrounding traders guffawing. The
salesman blushed, mumbled some unheard response, then tried to laugh along in a
half-hearted fashion. But he knew he’d just got a public arse-whipping.
When I
first entered the City and was asked which skills were required on the trading
floor, I used to say: analytical ability, diligence and, of course, a
ruthlessness Chairman Mao would be proud of. But after more than a decade in
this game, I can say, with hand on heart, that it’s in fact quick-witted
playground banter that wins friends and influences people.
For analysts like me, gaining the respect of the salesmen and traders is vital
because they will trust you only if they think you can handle pressure.
Although a well-timed “your mum” joke when surrounded by Essex boy traders may
not be the perfect indicator of your prowess under pressure, it’s better than
most.
Hence, we must pity the spotty geek who has a great analytical brain but
blushes and stutters at the drop of a hat. Salesmen and traders alike will
assume he’s a pointless loser who should write notes and emails – and let me
tell you, I didn’t get where I am today writing notes and emails.
I achieved my tremendous success through the far more important skill of
repeating tedious cliched comebacks in a superficially confident way – as one
colleague found to his cost the other day.
Colleague: “You’re talking big now, but you wait till we’re on the golf
course.”
City Boy: “Son, if you even dream of beating me, you’d better wake up and
apologise.”
Colleague: “Actually, I’m waiting for you to apologise.”
City Boy: “OK, you go check the temperature in Hell then come back to me.”
Colleague: “You little prick.”
City Boy: “Don’t believe everything your sister says.”
So my advice to anyone going into the City is to put away those financial
theory books and hone your p***-taking skills. That’s because my experience
suggests that while you can take the stockbroker out of the playground, you
certainly cannot take the playground out of the stockbroker.
Writer: Anyn
from article city boy of LondonPaper, August 20 2007
