Friday, April 7, 2006
Bottle Service
As a kid, the sign of the forthcoming weekend came to me in the form of Stephanie Tanner. She would appear on the television, and the young herald’s gentle hair tossings would wash away a week’s worth of 5th grader stress and promise me two days of freedom. Now, the harbinger comes to me in the form of an afternoon email from one of my boys:
From: Dan Friedberg (IBD) [mailto:dan.friedberg@morganstanley.com]
To: jeff.chang@gs.com, abhishek.trivendrum@baincapital.com, Merriweather, Chip (IBD) [mailto:Chip.L.Merriweather@morganstanley.com], Quincy Ludmiller III (IBK), hmaarlow@jpmchase.com
Subject: Tonight.Bottle Service at Marquee?
TGIF! And I still get just as aroused. I immediately respond:
From: jeff.chang@gs.com
To: Dan Friedberg (IBD) [mailto:dan.friedberg@morganstanley.com], abhishek.trivendrum@baincapital.com, Merriweather, Chip (IBD) [mailto:Chip.L.Merriweather@morganstanley.com], Quincy Ludmiller III (IBK), hmaarlow@jpmchase.comSubject: Re: Tonight.
Down like syndrome, sons.
I click send and push off of my ergonomic foot pillow with the balls of my feet and lean back, sinking deep into sweet Aeron mesh bliss. I cherish the moment, closing my eyes letting my mind rest for the first time in what feels like days (and literally might be). I am officially incapable of concentrating or doing anything productive from this point on. Good thing I’ll still be at work for 5 more hours until around 10:30.
I spend the rest of the day/night fantasizing about the night to come. My eyes glaze over as I stare at my screen. Long strings of Excel cells remind me of lines as long as those at the new Trader Joe’s and my days as an intern when I used to wait in them in front of nightclubs, futilely trying to pair up with groups of girls and bribe greedy bouncers.
Fortunately, the scene quickly changes, and I see my current self in slow-mo, winking and hand-gunning a Long Island meathead and his broke-ass JAP girlfriend as I pass them, rolling 8 dudes deep into Marquee. Thank the Lord for bottle service! I picture my entrance, an expectant glance around and a quick pinch of the nose still slightly numb from awkwardly keycardbumping (on my 3rd one, it really messes up the magnetic strip) in the cab over. “IBD in da house!!” I shout and do a mini-roof-raise.
I slip out of the dream briefly and attempt to regroup and do some work, but the musing quickly resumes as the screen’s cells now start turning orange and magenta and begin bouncing around psychedelically. They dance about the worksheet merrily and begin coming together, forming two pixilated vase shapes…carafes. Just thinking the word “carafe” makes me giddy. My mind starts to see 2 sweaty, curvaceous pitchers being brought over to our table and placed on a pure white napkin. I relish the innovative glass layout, a fan of the triangle surrounding the ice bucket, but pleased with stoic “M” formation.
After the hostess pours our first round, I can even hear the subtle clink as our section is velvet-roped off by our personal bouncer and the not so subtle clink as my boys and I cheers: “To Banking and Bitches.” I delight in the smiles of my buddies and notice one is still displaying his work building badge. “Will that help with the hoo-ha’s?” I ponder the briefly. Peacocking or negligence? I decide it most certainly will help either way. I chug down half my drink and am officially amped—nothing is as exhilarating as pumping a body that has been virtually immobile for 70 hours full of drugs and alcohol and letting it loose on a roomful of money hungry psuedostars. Someone get a camera and put this shit up on lastnightsdoochefest.com—this is the real NYC nightlife.
The reverie plays itself out in a movie-style montage with Eminem and Nate Dogg’s “Till I Collapse” as the soundtrack: I drink 6 Ketel-cranberries; I grind awkwardly with 3 high school seniors (who claim to be 22, of course); and I tell three of my friends to pick up a few shares of CSC (eat my ass Sarbanes-Oxley).
When I finally get shaken conscious by a fellow analyst, I still have a huge grin on my face as I awake. I find out we’ve sufficiently face-timed and pry myself out from underneath my keyboard tray, do a quick downward facing dog, and shake it out. I roll, ready to live out what I’ve been dreaming about all day and all my life…unless my MD calls or emails, of course.
June 21st, 2006 at 2:34 pm
A keycard isn?t the only office accessory that can help you consume cocaine in a pinch. Momentary liquidity shortage? A miniature post-it note handily rolls up ? and even secures, self-adhesively ? providing an easy stand-in for a missing dollar bill.
July 12th, 2006 at 11:49 am
don?t bankers use $100 bills?
July 26th, 2006 at 2:22 pm
Those with a brain swap Adderall and Modafinil (or its precursor), on a monthly cycle. They don?t use coke. Of course what do I know, I only scored 1340 on my SAT.
August 23rd, 2006 at 11:30 am
Marquee is so 2003 bro. if you and your boys are gonna drop dough for bottles, at least pick the right party. rookie
September 5th, 2006 at 9:30 am
‘Those with a brain swap Adderall and Modafinil (or its precursor), on a monthly cycle. They dont use coke. Of course what do I know, I only scored 1340 on my SAT. ” Whoever posted that is the biggest tool on this whole page?
September 5th, 2006 at 2:11 pm
‘Those with a brain swap Adderall and Modafinil (or its precursor), on a monthly cycle. They dont use coke. Of course what do I know, I only scored 1340 on my SAT. ” Can?t tell if this person is being arrogant or self-deprecating. I hope to god it?s the latter. 1340? Seriously? Who?s proud of that? I would speculate that you went to Cornell?at best.
September 12th, 2006 at 2:04 pm
I?m a banker and you guys are full of shit? Most bankers are snot dripping desk slaves who fear the sun and are more scared of girls than they are of their MDs. Those are real banker?.you?re thinking of white rappers?
September 13th, 2006 at 11:29 am
Who cares if he got 1340. A guy from Univ Denver was in my class and just landed TPG.
September 13th, 2006 at 12:15 pm
What is TPG?
September 18th, 2006 at 12:28 pm
real bankers fear the sun and scared of girls? not here. damn. i feel sorry for you..seriously
December 1st, 2006 at 7:23 am
1340? haha are you joking? and i thought my 1460 was sub-par? Those with a brain can do better than a 600 on the verbal buddy.
December 16th, 2006 at 11:16 am
Gotta love the bridge and tunnel
December 19th, 2006 at 4:28 pm
you?re a goddamn loser!!!!
January 15th, 2007 at 6:15 pm
re: -3 votes + -Anonymous Said: September 13th, 2006 at 12:15 pm What is TPG? TPG is Texas Pacific Group. It is a private equity firm.
February 2nd, 2007 at 10:49 am
Your 1460 is subpar, biznatch, don?t you know it!
February 15th, 2007 at 10:23 pm
I got a 1540 and turned down basically every ivy league because they dont give any kind of merit based scholarship. Instead, i went to a state school, took their money, invested it, got in on the riverbed IPO in sept with 6 figures and lets say, dont give a shit
February 20th, 2007 at 7:09 am
‘I got a 1540 and turned down basically every ivy league because they dont give any kind of merit based scholarship. Instead, i went to a state school, took their money, invested it, got in on the riverbed IPO in sept with 6 figures and lets say, dont give a shit” I?m sure your father is really proud of you, and will tell you so when you finally meet after a paternity test on Maury. Why is it that you poors take so much pride in turning down prestige for a scholarship-funded degree from a public school? Back to the trailer park, plebe.
February 21st, 2007 at 2:23 pm
1540 boy? are you kidding? six figures on a stock that went from ~12 to ~36? you made $300K. Since you admit to being state school trailer trash I will take your six figure comment and put it to $100K in the door. wtf are you proud of??? I make ten times that in 30 seconds. oh wait?right?state school $300K is a big deal to you. congratulations. FYI, My ferrari is in spot #226, make sure you get the bugs off of the license plate, ace.
March 10th, 2007 at 10:18 pm
Great blog! However, some of these comments till talking and debating about SAT scores – grow up! Who fuckin? cares. What have you done for me lately. Stop hanging on to an accomplishment from years ago.
March 26th, 2007 at 9:02 am
I could have stayed in the midwest?
April 12th, 2007 at 10:57 am
This is the worst piece of trash I?ve read in a long time?ok, maybe since the pro-Bush editorial in the Post this morning. Glad to know that the attitudes of ”IBD” hasn?t changed in 8 years since I left the business?makes me feel better about turning my back on it. IBD/banking is revenge of the nerds at its best?stop kidding yourself. Bottle service is LAME! Live in NYC long enough and you?ll realize?you have a lot to learn young yuppie?I mean guppie.
April 26th, 2007 at 1:03 pm
Wow you guys fucking gay
May 4th, 2007 at 3:35 pm
one more time realist1, this time in english.
October 17th, 2007 at 2:03 pm
hey anonymous at 9:38 PM: it?s ”owns” not ”ownes” most rich people know how to spell, unless they made their money selling methamphetamines in Kentucky. Stop being such a poser; it?s obvious you?re still in college.
May 9th, 2008 at 7:07 am
1530 on the SAT?800 on verbal..you white people are fucking dumb?there was a dyslexic kid in my class who got 1400+?lol?no wonder asians get paid so much?finding a smart banker in the U.S is harder than finding a thin woman..