Big Time

Two

John offered his colleagues cursory greetings as he made his way to his desk. Working weekends had become a fairly regular ritual since he had joined the bank 10 years ago. He didn’t mind except when the weather was nice. On wet weekends like this, it was almost enjoyable to sit at his desk, working his way through his to-do list at a relatively leisurely pace.

The three other guys in the office, who were part of his team, were already head-down in the files. They’d probably staggered in between nine and 10, well before John arrived at 11:30. He needed to check the spreadsheet before they sent it on to Rob, John’s boss and a partner of the bank. If Rob was happy, it would then go onto the client.

Richard, the young guy responsible for running the numbers, came over holding a printout.

“Hey, John,” he mumbled.

John nodded by way of acknowledgement as he took the spreadsheet from Richard and started looking through it. 

Richard was a recent college grad who had joined the bank six months earlier after completing their post-grad program. His accent made it impossible to tell where he was from—it could have been Harvard, Yale, or Stanford. He was all Ivy League youth; a high-protein-fed gym junkie; a mathematician with a finance background. Richard’s future would surely include an MBA. He seemed nice enough, and John was warming to him. 

John sifted down the printout number by number, asking himself if they made sense. It didn’t really matter that the client was a distressed hospital owner and healthcare provider; all that mattered was whether or not the numbers added up and if they could close a deal. John scrutinized the staff costs and the interest on the new debt the bank would put into the company. After culling half the workforce, the overhead should be 35 percent lower, and given the price they were intending to offer, the interest on the new debt would be half that. If they got it at that price, the bank stood to make a killing.

John worked for one of the most—if not the most—prestigious financial institutions on Wall Street. An investment bank, they were different to a main-street bank in that they didn’t issue credit cards, lend people money to buy homes, or exchange currencies for holidays. 

John’s team specialized in buying distressed or bankrupt businesses that owned plenty of real estate. Desperate companies made good bargains—for the bank, anyway. The bank would then sell all of the company’s land and buildings. Meanwhile, they would try to salvage the company or sell it on to a competitor. And if the company wasn’t salvageable, they’d sell the plant and equipment and sack the staff. These companies were usually worth more in parts than as a whole; especially given it was John’s job to purchase them for as little as possible, ensuring that the value of the real estate was far in excess of what they were paying for it. It wasn’t noble work, but it increased the bank’s wallet exponentially.

John’s entire focus was on making money. A piece of every profitable deal he closed trickled down into his bonus at the end of each year. There were no long-term relationships, just a quick in and out. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am.