The Working World

Out on the Street: How to Feel Like a Bitch

“Hey—I got to hop, I got some friend of a friend I have to talk to. I’ll lose him in 10 to 15 minutes.”

Ummm, I am waiting right outside your office. I can hear you.

So that’s how I met Kevin, a friend of a family friend who runs a $2.5 billion hedge fund. When I actually met him I was greeted with a terse, “How can I help you?” No pleasantries with Kevin—after all, our informational conversation was going to last 15 minutes tops and he was doing me a favor. But I was determined to stretch it to 20. Ha. That’d show him.

I have been to too many meetings in my professional career to count, and along the way I learned that every single face-to-face is an opportunity to establish your standing in the power structure. The rules of engagement are many. Rule One: Make your guest wait at least five minutes. To do otherwise signals that your time is less valuable than theirs. This was true even if it was a meeting with clients, but especially for an interview or, God forbid, an informal conversation. There were plenty of other ways—subtle and not-so—of showing who held the power. Who got to end the meeting? Who could take a phone call in the middle? As my career developed, over the years, I got used to being in charge of the meeting. No longer.

While I was able to ask enough questions of Kevin to stretch the meeting to my target length, I still got no information out of it. When I asked, “How do you see the hedge fund industry in a year or two?” Kevin’s response was, “Not really sure.” In fact, all of my questions were answered by either,  “I don’t know,” or “Hmm, that’s a good question.” I don’t think he was messing with me, I just don’t think he wanted to take the time to engage.

As frustrating as that was, it was better than my meeting with Karl, another hedge fund guru, the day before. I waited in Karl’s meeting room staring at the large-scale photos of African safaris and the impressive books. There was a copy of George Soros’ The Alchemy of Finance, with a personal dedication.  Karl welcomed me by excusing himself for being a half hour late and then canceling our meeting. His secretary would be in shortly to reschedule. “Oh—and nice tie.”

Thanks.

Funny that Karl mentioned my tie. Since the meetings with Kevin and Karl were for me to tap into the knowledge and wisdom of these great men and were not actual interviews, I debated whether to wear a suit. It used to be—in, say, the late eighties or early nineties—that a suit was a symbol of power. We can all picture the bright red power ties and double-breasted pin-striped suits of Milken and Gecko. But after the dot-com boom of the 90s and the hedge fund explosion of the first part of this decade, it became clear that it was the guys in jeans, not the ones in suits, who were running the show. And so begat business casual.  When I was interviewing for jobs before the Great Recession, I would never wear a suit. I already had a good job; why would I want to look like a bitch? Well, all that has clearly changed for me.

So it goes with networking. Each meeting brings with it potential payoff, but the cost is swallowing my pride. Either one of these meetings could have been fantastic. There was some probability, albeit small, that Kevin or Karl would say, “Hey, I know someone who is looking to expand into the emerging markets,” or “You should talk to my buddy X.” Putting on a suit reminded me that that my time is now nowhere near as valuable as theirs; it reinforced my position as a supplicant. In finance speak, I was buying an option and the cost was my ego.

But the more I think about pride and humility, I remember what my friend The Greek says. “If you really think about it, most of your mistakes in life have to do with pride.” Certainly this was true for me professionally, and more often than I would like to admit in my personal life.  Pride and hubris were among the worst characteristics a trader could have. Failure to admit that your trade might be wrong could be devastating. The people who survive were often willing to unemotionally admit defeat and move on to the next trade.

Unfortunately there were not enough of them on Wall Street. One of the causes of this crisis, in my oh-so-very-humble opinion, was collective hubris.  Not only was there an overwhelming belief in mathematical models (see Felix Salmon’s article on Wired.com), but a lack of imagination in challenging assumptions and scenarios. Dick Fuld was too proud to raise capital for Lehman Brothers in the spring of 2008 and we all know how that played out.  Hank Paulson provided a three-page plan to ask American taxpayers for close to $1 trillion. The list of examples goes on and on and on.

I was speaking the other day to a friend about some of the unexpected benefits of being unemployed. It has provided me the opportunity to reflect on what I did well in my old job and what I could do better. In many of the cases what I did well in my job, I do well in other aspects in my life. And the flip side being that my flaws in work were not isolated either. I hope one lesson that I take with me is the ability to contain my ego. No matter how much I know about something, I could be wrong. As important as my time may be, others’ time is just as valuable.

FYI, Karl’s secretary has rescheduled twice in the last four days, and will probably change the meeting again. No worries. I’ll show up in my suit and tie and wait outside the great man’s office for an audience.

Joe the Trader spent 11 years as a proprietary trader at a major U.S. bank. He has three children and currently lives in Brooklyn. Read more of his Out on the Street column.

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Tags: job-hunting, Out on the Street, style, The Unemployed Life, Wall Street