by Ira Trivedi
’Yes, Ma … I have some news for you.’
‘Haan, bolo beta.’
‘I got the job offer.’
‘That’s such good news! Shabaash beta, shabaash. We didn’t expect anything less of you. Wait, let me tell Daddy, he is going to be so proud of his little girl,’ squealed my mom, giddy with excitement.
‘Ma,’ I said softly.
‘Yes?’
‘I’ don’t know what to do, Ma, I was really unhappy here. I … I …’ It was becoming difficult to stay strong and I found myself losing my composure. I had vowed that I would not cry on the phone. I took a shaky breath. ‘Ma, I didn’t like it at all … I … I don’t think this is the right job for me. I’m sorry,’ I said in a whisper. I was at a loss for words, I didn’t know what else to tell her. I held my breath, squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the fireworks that I was expecting. I heard the diatribe in my mind. We told you to be a doctor, but you never listen to us. All this money and time for nothing! You’re coming back to India and we’re finding you a husband.
‘Listen, raja beta,’ my mom said gently. ‘We’re proud of you. You’ve been so brave for the past few months, all alone in that big city, no mummy or papa, no aunty or uncle. Beta, you’re a very smart girl and if you don’t like the job, you don’t have to do it. No matter what you decide, we’re here for you. We just want the best for you.’
Any second now … I waited for her to start screaming. Silence.
‘Mom, you there?’
‘Yes, beta,’ she said calmly.
‘Uh. Don’t you have anything else to say?’
‘We miss you and want you to come home soon,’ she said tenderly.
My mouth hung open in vaudevillian shock. Was this really my mother on the phone? I couldn’t believe it. Stranger things had happened to me this summer, but this definitely made it to the top three. I couldn’t believe how calm my compulsive, career-obsessed mom was being about the possibility that I might turn my back on a $150,000 job (which ensured a US visa and, if you stuck around, a Green Card too) because I simply didn’t like it.
‘Um … is everything all right, Mom?’ I asked suspiciously.
‘Yes, beta. Remember, we are your parents and we love you. Theek hai? Papa has just come home from the office, let me just sit with him, and we’ll call you back, okay? Be brave, and remember God is always with you,’ she said in a mellifluous tone.
‘All right, Ma,’ I said softly. ‘I love you guys too.’
Sometimes in life, when we’re desperate, God throws us a little bone. In this case it had turned out to be a big juicy T-bone. After the conversation with my mom, I felt strong, calm and absolutely clear about what I had to do.
Dear Alison,
After considerable thought, I have decided to decline the offer for a full-time position at Goldstein Smith. Thank you for all your help this summer. It was a great learning experience.
Sincerely yours,
Riya Jain
With one short email, it was all over. A huge burden was lifted off my shoulders. The past twenty-four hours had been the longest, most gruelling hours of my life as I struggled to arrive at a decision. On one hand, my dream had come true. I had been striving for the Goldstein Trophy for the past three years, working harder than I had ever worked for anything. Could I really throw it all away? One signature, and I would be liberated from my parents, and the banality of my Indian life forever. But I would also be pledging my life to Goldstein Smith. And I couldn’t imagine spending my life working in the CDO group, cast in the prison of Microsoft Excel, especially after the grim scenario that Sally had painted. Thinking about working seven days a week under her Nazi regime brought tears to my eyes and a pain in my head so great that I thought it would explode.
Banking life had not turned out to be like anything I had expected, but was it worthwhile to give it one last try? I would miss the money, the parties, the free rides and the free meals and drinks, although definitely not the seven pounds I had gained. Most of the money was gone, squandered on online shopping sprees trying to cheer myself up through the dreary days. The parties at hip New York places were cool, and fun to talk about later, but I had only enjoyed myself when I got totally drunk. I had never consumed as much alcohol as I had that summer, and looked or felt worse about myself. The two were most likely connected. The free cabs were nice, but the subway was not that bad if you didn’t have to be on it for seven hours straight.
Finally, it had been the assholes of banking and their continued perversity and exploitation that had led me to my decision. Men like Ivana’s boss and Jonathan, who had used foolish, naive girls like Ivana and I. After doing some research I had discovered that Jonathan had been engaged to Mary McEwen, a trader at J.P. Morgan for three years. He had never cared about me; I was just a dumb, over-eager intern who went over to his fancy apartment and made out with him. I didn’t want to do this shitty job, I didn’t want to see his stupid face and I just didn’t ever want to feel as crappy as I felt right now. I was angry with myself for being so blind. Ivana was broken when she didn’t get the offer, but I think it was more than that. I suspect Ivana had strong feelings for her asshole; like me, she was hurt and angry that she had been treated so badly.
Goldstein Smith may be investment-banking paradise, but for me it had been hell on earth and I didn’t want to be here any more. And just like that, with the click of the ‘send’ button I terminated Project Banking Babe forever.
Epilogue
Lehman Brothers filed for bankruptcy, Fannie & Freddie were picked up by Superman and AIG was pumped with government money. Wall Street had been shattered. No longer were bankers walking on red carpets in the Meat-Packing District, flourishing their Amex cards, but scavenging in the gullies of the Lower East Side, and carefully counting dollar bills during their recession-special happy hours.
Just as I had abandoned Project Banking Babe forever, so had Wall Street. With the behemoths of the Street collapsing, that investment-banking offer was no longer a coveted feat. There were no deals, no models, no bottles, no Chanel, no LV, just endless days of SeamlessWeb, pitch books, bankruptcies and malnourished paycheques. It turns out that the activities of the CDO group resulted in a $1.5 billion loss for the bank. Zeitlin, Jonathan, Sean and many other members of the group were fired. Sally became head of the group, which was cut down from thirty to five people. There were rumours that Goldstein pressed charges against Zeitlin and his crew, including Jonathan. Ker-Lih, along with a whole set of other banking monkeys, was moved to the auditing department and the tech department in New Jersey. Unfortunately Sachin, Pam, Martha and most of the intern class at Goldstein were victims of the bloodletting on Wall Street and joined the ‘millions club’—the countless faces that had lost their jobs. Pam’s last correspondence suggested that she was attempting to re-invent herself and was looking to move to Miami to look into private wealth management. Forced by the meltdown on Wall Street, Liz gave up her banking dreams and switched her major to biology, and is taking her MCAT. My feeling is that she is going to be most successful of all of us.
As for me … Well, I had not found love on Wall Street but I did find love very close to it. As fortune would have it, Gautam moved to Boston on an assignment shortly after I returned to Wellesley for my senior year. We started dating and have been together ever since. He encouraged me to take writing classes at Wellesley, and I discovered in myself a writer, not a great one, but there was something there I could work with. And the best thing was that I actually enjoyed it. Gautam helped me get an internship under a senior editor at Bloomberg and I will be moving to New York after spending the summer with my parents in India (sigh).
Defying all Indian norms of no live-ins before marriage, Gautam and I are moving in together. Obviously my parents don’t know about this. I can’t afford a studio anywhere but in the Bronx, and the other option is to live with Liz, which I would rather pass. We have found a clean, roach-free, walk-up, with a great view of the park on the
Upper West Side. Not the most happening area, but I’ll survive. I have not only found love, but I have found passion in what I am doing.
I am no longer a part of the frustrated debauchery at the Boom Boom Room, nor am I prancing around in this season’s Jimmy Choos, but there is one thing I am doing—I am living life, free of the golden cuffs and outside the gilded cage.
Acknowledgements
I could never have written this book without the support of my family. I would like to extend my sincerest gratitude to my parents for their undying love and encouragement. There is no one who believes in me more and for that I am eternally grateful. I hope this book lives up to their standards.
Friends are always behind the scenes lending a helping hand and there were more than a few who were there for me in a big way. Mayank, thank you for your unconditional friendship. Thank you, Manhad, Payal and Anisha, for reading the manuscript with love and care. A special thanks to Amar for being there.
A big thank you to Esmond Harmsworth and his team at ZSH. Your comments and feedback transform this book. Thank you for your time, patience and belief.
I would like to thank everyone at Penguin India. Vaishali, my kind and patient editor, Mekhala and Shatarupa. Thank you, Hemali, for always believing in me. It means a lot to me.
Thank you to Ron and Jesse at AlumniAthlete for helping secure my Wall Street internship and all the people in the CDO group at J.P. Morgan for having me that summer.
This brings me to my final acknowledgement. Anjani, my sister, who put long hours into the manuscript. Thank you for being there for me at my lowest moments, for giving me your words and, most of all, for believing in me. Words cannot express how much it meant to me. For the record, Anjani quit her investment-banking job after she read the book.
At the very end, I would like to thank God for leading the way through the darkest of times. Om Namah Shivaya.
THE BEGINNING
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First published by Penguin Books India 2011
This Collection Published by 2018
Copyright © Ira Trivedi 2011
The moral right of the author has been asserted
Cover Designer: Mugdha Sadhwani
ISBN: 978-0-143-06334-6
This digital edition published in 2018.
eISBN: 978-9-353-05339-0
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
