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Authors: Daniella Brodsky
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fan, too?”
“Sure, I love Faulkner and Hemingway,” I say. This is my standard reply. That was the only course I actually took that went into any lengthy detail on authors. They were all right, but probably not really my favorites. Those would be Sophie Kinsella, Helen Field-ing, Jane Austen, the Brontës, anyone who writes about love and provides a happy ending and fodder for my M&M search. Hemingway’s male love interests always get thwarted, have sexual dys-functions or get freaked out when their wives transform into men—not really my cup of tea.
“Big bullfighting aficionado?” he replies—in complete mastery of the eye levity thing, hands statue-still over one knee—and continues, “Anyhow, let me tell you a bit about the position. You’re obviously more than qualified.” And then, as if only to please Ms.
Banker, he adds, “You do know what mergers and acquisitions is, right?”
“Well, sure, it’s when two companies want to m-erggge (I bent my head a bit here as the word slid slowly out. His eyes followed until it looked as if our heads would crash. And in a flash it came to me.) to put their . . . assets together to . . . to . . . increase profits.”
Tada! It sounds like common sense to me. I look over to Ms.
Banker to pooh-pooh her lack of confidence in me, but she isn’t smiling. In fact just the opposite. I get that awful body-floating-off-to-sea feeling that so often accompanies shoe-in-mouth syndrome.
“Ha, ha,” I snicker, in case what I said is more appropriate as a cute little joke and readjust my hair behind my ear.
“Yes, on a small scale, that’s it exactly. Basically, mergers and acquisitions are just one product area in investment banking that we offer clients as strategic advice. If we see that a certain industry is 21430_ch01.qxd 1/26/04 10:04 AM Page 52
52
D a n i e l l a B r o d s k y
consolidating for any number of reasons, we will present our best ideas to specific clients regarding what we feel makes sense as a long-term growth plan for shareholders. For a company to hire us rather than a competitor takes years of building relationships and credibility.” That’s what he says.
What I hear is, “Yes, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.”
Was that even in English?
I don’t worry about the heretofore-unmentioned “foreign language” requirement. I remember from my college temp days, it didn’t really matter if you understand what’s going on when you’re an assistant. As long as you can type and ask questions when you aren’t sure if something makes sense the way you’ve typed it, you’re fine. When you’re not really a key player at a company and realize that from the menial tasks you are asked to perform every day (“Lane, can you find out if this notebook comes with the spiral on top , rather than on the side?” or “While you’re at it, can you pull all of the files out and stamp each with
‘FILED’ and then put them back exactly the same, except retype the tabs in Courier New ten point?”), it’s easy to get depressed about your worth.
One day you step back and wonder exactly how you’ve gone so far off track that you are torturing yourself over mistakenly having chosen “standard” manila over “nouveau” manila folders and that’s when you start implementing Third Reich nicknames for your superiors, maintaining a steady habit of bringing up things like the cost of your education and the honors you were granted at graduation, and adopting a bad case of finger-waving-hand-on-hip syndrome during “happy” hour over five-too-many margaritas.
Although those wonderful olden days were flooding back in Ms. Banker’s fuzzy corporate presence, this time at least I know I 21430_ch01.qxd 1/26/04 10:04 AM Page 53
D i a r y o f a Wo r k i n g G i r l 53
am returning with my own stable of goals. And so I hope going from master-of-my-own-domain to underpaid, underappreciated, I’ll-show-you (by hoarding, at home, every last number two pencil,
“Sure, I love Faulkner and Hemingway,” I say. This is my standard reply. That was the only course I actually took that went into any lengthy detail on authors. They were all right, but probably not really my favorites. Those would be Sophie Kinsella, Helen Field-ing, Jane Austen, the Brontës, anyone who writes about love and provides a happy ending and fodder for my M&M search. Hemingway’s male love interests always get thwarted, have sexual dys-functions or get freaked out when their wives transform into men—not really my cup of tea.
“Big bullfighting aficionado?” he replies—in complete mastery of the eye levity thing, hands statue-still over one knee—and continues, “Anyhow, let me tell you a bit about the position. You’re obviously more than qualified.” And then, as if only to please Ms.
Banker, he adds, “You do know what mergers and acquisitions is, right?”
“Well, sure, it’s when two companies want to m-erggge (I bent my head a bit here as the word slid slowly out. His eyes followed until it looked as if our heads would crash. And in a flash it came to me.) to put their . . . assets together to . . . to . . . increase profits.”
Tada! It sounds like common sense to me. I look over to Ms.
Banker to pooh-pooh her lack of confidence in me, but she isn’t smiling. In fact just the opposite. I get that awful body-floating-off-to-sea feeling that so often accompanies shoe-in-mouth syndrome.
“Ha, ha,” I snicker, in case what I said is more appropriate as a cute little joke and readjust my hair behind my ear.
“Yes, on a small scale, that’s it exactly. Basically, mergers and acquisitions are just one product area in investment banking that we offer clients as strategic advice. If we see that a certain industry is 21430_ch01.qxd 1/26/04 10:04 AM Page 52
52
D a n i e l l a B r o d s k y
consolidating for any number of reasons, we will present our best ideas to specific clients regarding what we feel makes sense as a long-term growth plan for shareholders. For a company to hire us rather than a competitor takes years of building relationships and credibility.” That’s what he says.
What I hear is, “Yes, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.”
Was that even in English?
I don’t worry about the heretofore-unmentioned “foreign language” requirement. I remember from my college temp days, it didn’t really matter if you understand what’s going on when you’re an assistant. As long as you can type and ask questions when you aren’t sure if something makes sense the way you’ve typed it, you’re fine. When you’re not really a key player at a company and realize that from the menial tasks you are asked to perform every day (“Lane, can you find out if this notebook comes with the spiral on top , rather than on the side?” or “While you’re at it, can you pull all of the files out and stamp each with
‘FILED’ and then put them back exactly the same, except retype the tabs in Courier New ten point?”), it’s easy to get depressed about your worth.
One day you step back and wonder exactly how you’ve gone so far off track that you are torturing yourself over mistakenly having chosen “standard” manila over “nouveau” manila folders and that’s when you start implementing Third Reich nicknames for your superiors, maintaining a steady habit of bringing up things like the cost of your education and the honors you were granted at graduation, and adopting a bad case of finger-waving-hand-on-hip syndrome during “happy” hour over five-too-many margaritas.
Although those wonderful olden days were flooding back in Ms. Banker’s fuzzy corporate presence, this time at least I know I 21430_ch01.qxd 1/26/04 10:04 AM Page 53
D i a r y o f a Wo r k i n g G i r l 53
am returning with my own stable of goals. And so I hope going from master-of-my-own-domain to underpaid, underappreciated, I’ll-show-you (by hoarding, at home, every last number two pencil,
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