To All My Friends With a Net Worth of Over $10 million

Private Banking is the business of the day. For some reason, a very large wealth management institution is very interested in me becoming a private banker. Now, if you've seen my resume, and you probably have because I like to hand it out at dinner parties and boy am I a dinner party kind of guy, you'll be scratching your head right about now. Let's see, technology, supply chain, customer service, ..., ..., ... . Nope, don't see any finance. Let's check his education. Political science, Japanese, business, strategy, economics, ..., ..., ... . Nope, no finance. So how does this experience turn into private banking? Is this very large Swiss organization secretly profiling me at the networking events I've been going to? What about my blog? If so, they know I'm a great communicator. I mean seriously, is there any doubt about my verbal and linguistic skills? It is all very mysterious.

So I went to the first round of interviews. Two guys, one in the business and one HR. I gotta tell you, that I was on fire. I'm not sure what happened. My stuttering went away. I never said um. I was the King. All that buildup of communication jujitsu came out in one huge burst. I just hope I have something left for the interviews that I really care about.

Yes, I have been invited to the second round. Yes, I'm going. Yes, I'm still puzzled. I even asked what exactly they saw in my resume. I mean, it is dazzling, but it's not finance dazzling. Maybe that super nice paper that Liz made me print them on had something to do with it.

So people. All of you with a net worth of over $10 million, make sure we keep talking. Supposedly this fine Swiss institution has the secret to 8% annual returns, with a sigma of 3. Now that is impressive. I'm clueless about finance, but looking at my investments over the past 10 years, I'd kill for 8% annualized. Maybe I can just have them give me the secret and then I'll be on my merry way.

Spaaa-iiicyyyyy

As you can tell, my mind and hence my writing, wander quite a bit. I've written about running, the subway, politics, school, and now food and drink. Red Bull probably wasn't the best way to introduce my new topic, but like I said, my mind wanders. My organizational skills are lacking. I sure hope that I remembered to delete this site from my email signature. "Hi, I'm looking for a job. Here's my bad ass resume. Oh, ignore that link at the bottom. Look, I'm running a $125 million business. Beavers, what? Hey, over here. Stern MBA. Much suffering for learning's sake. Let me draw you a picture of one of the 100 frameworks I've learned about. Wait, wait, that wasn't me wiping my butt with my bare hand. It was someone else. I know EQUATIONS. EQUATIONS!" Crap, struck down by the online gods again. Speaking of which. One more droll recruiting anecdote before I start to talk about why I'm really here, which isn't just to ramble.

Yes, I'm going through the recruiting process. I like my job. I'm not dissatisfied with it, but you never know what's out there until you go out there and Stern does one thing fairly well. Networking and recruiting for experienced professionals. So I went to one of those events and am schmoozing, telling every recruiter there how exciting his/her company is and how I'm such a great match and have skills to die for. Basically lying for two straight hours. You get the picture. Make lots of contacts and then follow up the next day with resume submissions, phone calls, etc. Fun you might think. Not really, but this is what I've been programmed to do. Well, I receive a reply back from one of the recruiters and he is very interested to continue our discussion (of course he is - I just made myself out to look like a demi-god). Well, when I open his email, I'm wondering why within his reply is another email I had sent to a different recruiter from a different firm. You guessed it. Gmail chaining. It's a known bane, but in my eagerness to show that I would be responding within the requisite 24 hours, I must not have noticed that little detail. Yes, I was sheepish. Particularly because these two recruiters represent two very different companies, both of which are under the impression that I am only for them. Not anymore. At least one of them knows that I am what in recruiting terms is defined as a (cover your eyes small children) job prostitute. I'm not picky. Just give me the money and I'll take you higher than you've ever been. Unless you've done heroin. Which I haven't.

Ok. That was exhausting. Do I really want to go into the reason why I initially felt my muse coming on? Not really. Time to start the day. I'll get back to you in two weeks. As a reminder to myself, as well as a teaser for all of my adoring fans, I'll just tell you that my next post will be about silky smooth goodness, with a little habanero thrown in for good measure.

Red Bull

is ill. I've heard people sing its praises, but that might be because they are mixing it with alcohol. I guess beer goggles apply to taste as well. This stuff is nasty. And it was $2.99. Dad, I'm not sure why you drink this stuff. Just get a Dr. Pepper or a Mountain Dew if you need a caffeine rush. Soda is 50% less and actually tastes good. Red Bull tastes like really bad cough syrup.