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Lord, help the foolish. Within a two-year period we would have heard the identical "do what makes you happy" speech, an indistinguishable rendition of the governmental delegation to Russia story, and the very same Mexican tablecloth tie introduction line for Lou Charles a total of no less than four times. But that was later. This was the present.

In general, the recruiting presentations lasted for about an hour. A question-and-answer session usually followed. The Q&A sessions were an opportunity for the sycophants of the student body to shine. It was their opportunity to show the corporate chieftains how smart and well informed they really were, and to vie for entrance to the International Pantheon of Brownnosers.

"Sir, could you tell me whether you're planning to generate any new revenue streams through international diversification? Will the emerging markets provide an important strategic opportunity for you?"

"That was an absolutely fascinating presentation, but tell me, does your firm provide the entrepreneurial atmosphere which is so important to today's top MBA candidates?"

"I'm wondering, what competitive advantage are you able to exploit to maximize the economic value added with respect to both human and economic capital at your company?"

MBA-speak filled the air. Teamwork, mission statement, top-down approach, information age, global view, downsizing, it went on and on.

Fortunately, these sickening ass kissers represented only a minority of the entire business school population, but the antipathy that they engendered among their classmates was far-reaching. Most of the other students made no attempt to disguise their loathing for this human detritus. The reassuring element, and the one that we weren't privy to until we were on the other side of the recruiting table (sadly enough trying to cajole others into our misery as associates in banking), was that the recruiters-without exception-hated these sniveling little dogs as well.

The recruiters, after being asked one of these imbecilic questions, would generally respond with something akin to "That's an excellent, excellent question . . ." What was really going through their mind, though, as they proceeded to answer the questions, was generally more along the lines of "Come on up here, Doughboy, so I can jam this Gucci loafer so far up your ass that the tassels bounce off your tonsils."

Unfortunately for most of the recruiters, the question- and-answer session was only the second step in the entire wretched experience. A recruiter reception at which the mutual ass kissing reached even more nauseating levels generally followed the Q&A session. At these receptions, the complimentary food and booze flowed as freely as the bulls**t. It was a golden opportunity to get a full stomach, a swelled head, and a skewed sense of reality all in one place. The orgy of backslapping would have made Hulk Hogan proud.

There was a widely held misconception among the student body that going to the receptions and meeting the recruiters actually increased one's chances of later being granted an interview. However, what really mattered was experience. And so it was that something of a chicken-and-egg situation existed for those people who didn't have any relevant banking experience but who wanted to try to make the transition to becoming career bankers. Without experience, you couldn't get experience. It made life difficult. There was really only one route to redemption. That was to land a banking job during the summer between the first and second year of business school. If you were lucky enough to do so, you would have the requisite experience to land all the necessary interviews for full-time positions during your second year, and you would then be in a position to ride that gravy train straight into the sunset.

So there we were. Me, clueless about what investment banking was but willing to cut off my left nut to receive a coveted summer job offer, and Troob, an ex-analyst who knew exactly what he was getting himself into but who needed something to believe in. We both needed a vision to follow, something to aspire to. We needed a dream.

The dream was to overcome untold obstacles, become wildly successful, and have fun getting there. The vision was to stand like a giant among mere mortals. We would shoot for the stars and at least land on the moon. We would walk into the Ferrari dealership and say, "I'll buy that one." The salesperson would say, "But that's over one-" and we would cut him off and say, "Whatever it is, I'll take it." We would be rich, powerful, intellectually challenged, and happy-all by the time we were thirty. We were going to live the high life. We just knew it.

With these dreams burning in our souls we both decided to interview for any and all of the investment banking jobs out there. Lehman, Goldman, Salomon, DLJ, Merrill, First Boston, Morgan, Bear-we were coming to join the investment banking parade and travel down streets paved with gold.

Copyright © 2000 by John Rolfe and Peter Troob

Tags: Investing

About the Author

John Rolfe grew up in Virginia, the heart of Dixie. He survived on a daily diet of collard greens and ham hocks. He attended the first in a long line of parent-teacher conferences for disciplinary problems as a kindergartner after hocking a loogie onto another student in his gym class. John's parents deny all responsibility for his early, ornery demeanor.

About the Author

Peter Troob grew up on the rough and tumble streets of Scarsdale New York. While in grade school he starred in James and the Giant Peach and then went on to be Sonny in the Scarsdale High School senior play, Grease. Only 5'8", Peter mistakenly fancied himself a career in the NBA until, during his senior year in high school, he tore his anterior cruciate ligament and decided to take up golf instead.