Becoming a manager (at work)

For many years I would think leadership was not for me. I preferred to pursue the alternative professional development path, i.e. becoming an expert in a certain area, having an independent advisory-profiled position and not having to wrangle with any subordinates.

I revised my approach in 2022 when I took over as an area leader in Szlachetna Paczka. I was in charge of 25 people, recruited by my seasoned companions or myself, found my way around it stunningly well, which was additionally backed by glowing praise towards my management style expressed in the feedback (passed on anonymously to my bosses) past the edition.

I was lucky to have reasonable and reliable people in my team and back then I realised the comfort of being a boss lies in the team you lead. Wise, reliable and communicative people can make leadership a pleasure, while the opposite type of people can turn it into a nuisance and an ordeal.

The generously employer-subsidised (until March 2027) Skoda Octavia has hindered my motivation to seek new challenges outside my current workplace, hence for a while I had been on a lookout for an opportunity window, i.e. vacancy on a managerial position. In March 2025 one of senior B-1 managers decided to quit. His departure triggered a knock-on effect which resulted in a team head vacancy to be filled.

The recruitment process was more demanding than I thought and I can boast of approaching it with carefully-thought-out plan and vision. I believe this contributed most to my nomination. I did not have to prove my hard skills, as I had been doing that for past 11 years. In a modern corporation soft skills matter most and they are examined during interviews. With hindsight I recall those checks as suitable for a senior executive rather than for an ordinary team leader.

I am looking forward to new challenges, yet with some fears at the back of my head. I slightly worry if my subordinates accept me. A crucial detail is that I am returning in a different role to the department where I worked between 2018 and 2023. On top, there is a risk some people I will be in charge of applied for the same position and were rejected. I will need to learn my team members' work style and come to terms with the fact not everybody is an anti-procrastinator, not everybody's business English is as good as mine, not everybody minds neatness of documents as I do (apologies for this one-off lack of humility). I will be forced to attend some dead-end meetings which since the onset of remote working have become a plague in corporations. Their side effect is work piling up and needed to be done overtime for which I will no longer be eligible a compensation (such is the labour code in Poland). And on top, I will need to grapple with office politics...

The new chapter officially starts tomorrow, but customarily for internal transfers, the transition from the current to the new position is actually a process spread over time. Keep fingers crossed for me.

Promotion

Perhaps the best strikes out of the blue, perhaps.

December 2016

After a few drinks on a Christmas party my boss suggested we needed to have a longer chat. I had awaited this conversation for weeks and had hoped he would appreciate my hard work and signal an imminent promotion and pay rise. Over the next days I kept insisting he did not go back on his promise and so we eventually landed in a conference room. My boss simply wanted to ask me how I felt, overburdened with work. His reason to have a chat with seemed so absurdly silly that I straightforwardly asked about my prospects of promotion. He honestly reassured they were none…

February 2017

Annual appraisal. During an hour-long meeting to talk over my performance over the previous year I learnt whatever I had done superbly, I had just lived up to my superiors’ expectations, but whatever mistake I had made (the more you do, they more likely you are to make an error, statistically) I had been destined to be rebuked over. Then I took out a sheet of internal memo on promotion criteria to prove I had met all requirements set out in the document. My boss rebuffed this, claiming those guidelines were just a bare minimum and meeting all targets did not automatically qualify me for a position upgrade, but was just a condition precedent to it. At the end I was told the reason why I could not be promoted was that I displayed “emotional immaturity”. I immediately demanded examples of behaviours proving my lack of maturity. Needless to say the assertion of my emotional immaturity had no backing. That appraisal was held on Friday. The weekend thereafter in a spurt of anger I sent out CVs to competitors of the New Factory.

March 2017

I attended two interviews with other financial institutions. Even if in terms of competencies I was eligible, with hindsight I found out my pay rise expectations had priced me out of any considerations. In terms of salary growth, banking sector bucks the trends visible on the labour market. Had I even gotten a higher position, I would have had to accept a similar or lower base salary, not to mention I would have given up on a generous bonus.

April 2017

Found a job opening for a senior position in a similar area at the New Factory. I knocked on some doors to senior managers’ offices and shed some tears over my hapless situation. They were meant to play the cards right.

May 2017

I attended a serious of informal meetings with my would-be superiors (would-be boss and his boss) and once they decided they would take me on, I officially applied for the position. For the sake of transparency, a full-blown recruitment procedure needed to be run before they would select me.

July 2017

Meeting with candidates for my position dragged on for weeks and eventually nobody, including me, was offered that position just because the vacancy was either cancelled or put on hold. My hopes were dashed, actually I was not officially turned away. In the HR system my application was not even rejected, I only received a message the process had been completed. Actually since in the meantime my priorities had changed, the loss was not that painful.

September 2017

Shortly before my holidays gossips about substantial reshuffles in the organisational structure were put about. With little hopes to win, I began to wonder how to take advantage of the changes.

11 October 2017

My would-be boss dropped me an e-mail with an urgent request to meet up and asked whether I was interested in that job any longer. I came over, showed some reserved interest and declared I would need to think it over seriously, especially since some time had passed.

12 October 2017

I met a boss of my would-be boss to haggle over my base salary. The basic they offered was some 15% higher than my current one, yet I feared with much lower bonus multiplier, my all-in after-tax remuneration would go down by some 10% – quite astonishing side effect of a promotion, though you must remember bonus multipliers may change any time and the only bonuses you could be certain of are those ones already transferred into your bank account.

13 October 2017

Pay bargaining turned out to be successful. I got more that they wanted to offer me two days earlier, yet still less than what I held out for while applying. I accepted the base salary, bearing in mind how much some of my ex-workmates who had changed jobs recently earn. We nailed down the deal, yet before I sign the annex to my job contract, my promotion and pay rise remain in the realm of gentlemen’s agreements and the New Factory still stands a chance to double-cross me (it can boast of track record of mistreating its employees).

The unexpected goings-on from recent days prove one timeless regularity – the less you care, the better things shape up. Same happened to me a few months ago when after several spectacular mistakes in the love life, I decided to give up on looking for girlfriend. Less than a month later I dated somebody and future still looks bright.

…Just a little insight won’t make things right

When in 2014 I resolved to leave the Employer, the main motive behind it was the decision was my strong conviction the Employer was going nowhere. The Employer was winding down, losing clients, laying off people, giving sparse opportunities to develop. The transfer to the New Factory was a breakthrough in many respects and despite some downsides, I am still of the opinion taking up the current job was the right move made in the right moment. Compared to standards of rewarding staff by the Employer, the New Factory still comes out absolutely superior, yet some cracks have begun to appear on the immaculate picture…

July 2015

Before I receive Level III results, I kindly ask the New Factory whether the employer would pay my annual membership fees on my behalf or refund them (the cost is USD 350 per year). An HR chick replies to my e-mail briefly: The Charter is not essential to perform your job. The content of the response is a fact. Two other facts are that I had decided to earn the Charter off my own bat and for myself and that the New Factory was under no obligation to cover the annual dues. Yet had the response been formulated differently, e.g. As a matter of principle the New Factory does not participate in costs of maintaining certifications by its employees. Nevertheless we recognise and appreciate your effort to earn the Charter, I would not have remembered it as the most painful slap in the face since joining the New Factory.

December 2015

Chicks from the HR Department organise a meeting to present a new personnel development and remuneration model. The very attempt to foster development of most talented staff is commendable, but opaqueness of the concept makes it fishy. Time has proved the fishiness true – the model is like Loch Ness Monster – everyone has heard of it, no one has seen it!

July 2016

A fellow junior analyst from another team all of a sudden invites me for a lunch. Unsurprisingly, not disinterestedly. He wants to take my advice whether to take up a job with the New Factory’s state-controlled competitor. The junior is of my age, has worked at the New Factory for five years and though his competencies have not been inferior, his chances for promotion to analyst position have been close to zero. Besides, as part of skurwienie, he has been harassed by his boss. Folks around have never seen him as happy as during his notice period; as happy as a man who breaks away from a torment.

Last Thursday he brought his farewell cake. I wished him well, though I would not follow his path. A state-controlled company is not a workplace I would fancy.

After two years with the New Factory I have made a name for myself. Judging by how my workmates and bosses treat me I infer my name is a recognisable brand in the organisation. I am flying high, my tide is rising. Time to reach out for benefits. If I am offering a lot to the New Factory, I can expect something in return. I submit application for two positions, one in another big city in Poland where the New Factory also has part of its head office, one in another European capital where the parent company of the New Factory is seated. Relocation plans (don’t know whether for a few months, a few years or forever) put my flat purchase plans on hold…

August 2016

In the middle of the holiday season some top dogs decide to pursue a new split of customers between business segments with almost immediate effect. The reshuffle involves also various transfers of account managers. The embittered account managers whose long-lasting relationships with clients will be shattered communicated the ill tidings to customers. Many of them threaten to quit, yet the protest does not convince top executives to abandon their plan.

I cannot believe this is happening. Such ridiculous moves could have been done by the Employer, but the New Factory for years has truly fostered its relationships with clients.

Early September 2016

My plans of relocating within the organisations all go down the drain. Besides, my boss shows my the e-mail in which a director from the HR Department remonstrates him over allowing me to submit those applications. He adds had he been an obedient corpo-swine I would have got it in the neck too. Oddly enough then I did not construe the course of events so far as a serious warning sign.

21 September 2016

The HR Department and Senior Managers organise a workshop with selected employees on career paths (I do not attend it, but it soon becomes a hot topic across the office). The workshop turns into veritable cut and thrust during which managers openly tell their employees they do not deserve to get anything more from the organisation and they should forget about prospects of promotions or pay rises. At the end a guy from the HR Department speaks it out: if you want to develop, look for opportunities outside the New Factory.

My comment: if a host shows you the door, for the sake of your well-being leave his place. Of course, changing a job wisely is a matter of careful lookout and take several months.

Currently I am not going to make any abrupt moves. This year has been good in terms of meeting targets, therefore I must not miss my bonus for 2016 I will be eligible for in late 1Q2017. Once the money is transferred to my bank account. Before this happens, around Christmas 2016, after my annual assessment is approved, I am going to talk to my boss what my chances of being promoted to senior analyst and getting a pay rise are and justify him why I believe I deserve it (I have been compiling a list of arguments for a few weeks now). Implications of that conversation will set the path I will take in 2017.

Sometimes during job interview recruiters ask candidates where they see themselves in five years (what their job description would be, what position they would hold, what competencies they would improve, etc.). I feel this question is totally irrelevant to me. I believe no matter what I do, how hard and diligently I work, how few mistakes I make, how much I stand out among peers, in five years I am doomed to hold the same position and earn the same salary. Unless I find a job with another company…

I am emotional now, I realise. I need to cool down and think things over. I had to spew out the most bitter emotions that have accumulated inside me recently. In the coming weeks I will soldier on, as in the short-term changing nothing will only benefit me. In the long-term the best choice is to take the path that will least harm me (at best).

Beyond my comfort zone

The idiom my friend has come up with when she rang me to learn how I was doing in the New Factory probably best illustrates what I feel and what everyone feels during the first days or even weeks in a new workplace.

I had spent almost four years spent with the Employer. The first months, when I was a total freshman, were a period of intensive learning, then ensued some two years of further development. Around the middle of 2013 the Employer began to pursue a strategy of ‘controlled shrinkage’. My job began to be more repetitive, predictable and less challenging. My chair got warmer, my reputation was already established. I felt damn comfortable but at the back of my mind I knew the job was dead-end. In April 2014 I supposed the business line I had dealt with would be wound down by the end of 2015. Time proved I had been over-optimistic. It was wound down as of 31 July 2014, funnily enough on my last day of work. Had I stayed, I would not have been fired. In terms of my responsibilities I would have been demoted, in terms of salary I would have been none the worse off the change. Nevertheless, no other decision could have been taken. Holding down a cushy job makes sense when you are a few years before retirement and your goal is to merely get by, but not at the age of 26!

First impressions might be misleading, therefore I reluctantly share them. What I can definitely tell entering the unknown meant for me a huge role reversal. Back at the Employer, I passed as a very well-versed person and many people would turn to me to ask how to handle various stuff. Here, I have to ask about nearly everything and it will take a few weeks before I get familiar with all procedural issues. The New Factory’s scale of operations is much broader than that of the Employer. No wonder than I am daunted by it and have entered the phase of ‘cognisant incompetence’. This proves with the Employer I had reached the top of my learning curve, while the New Factory will offer many new opportunities to learn. The new job also requires me to be much more self-supporting than the previous one. At the Employer I could count on my manager’s advice, while here my manager only approves (or not) the outcomes of my work.

In some terms the change is beneficial, in others I will be missing my previous job. There is no ideal workplace and I have not delude myself I had found one. Actually every company in the industry I work for is more or less full of shit. Usually where the work is nice, there are no prospects. Where there are prospects, there is a pressure and one has to toil away.

A tough year ahead... Next weekend I am signing up for Level III and preparations are to kick off with the onset of September. Challenges at the new job, which might be at times time-consuming are not an excuse to take a year-long break in pursuit of the Charter. As examples of my older colleagues show, once you let up, setting out to finish the Programme is difficult and candidates are more likely to give up along the way. In a year… I hope to feel simply more comfortable…

When can you say you are young?

A man is as young as he feels, not as he is… Age is much better determined by one’s behaviour than by date of birth. Context also matters. 30-year-old man who still studies is an old student, but his peer becoming a prime minister would be considered extremely young.

The question on perception of youth has been prompted by the article published in“Polityka” several weeks ago, dwelling on political careers of four well-recognised politicians, all in their 30s, deemed, not only in that instance, “young”.

The ‘young’ tag was quite reassuring for me – if they are 7.5 to 13 years older than me, long before my youth goes by.

The oldest of all those guys is Sławomir Nowak, born in 1974. He first became a deputy in 2004 (after elections to the Euro parliament). In 2010 he was responsible for running presidential campaign of current president Bronisław Komorowski, then for a year and a half he was in charge of president’s office. In November 2011 subsequently he was appointed minister of transport and infrastructure, shortly before Euro 2012 opening. Many considered this nomination a nail to his coffin, as the area of his ministry’s responsibility was a huge mess. Delays in road contracts completion, bankruptcies of contractors and subcontractors of road-building projects have not dragged him down, but he fell into a trap of the fondness for expensive watches he would exchange with his friends. Mr Nowak was charged with concealing in his financial disclosure statement a watch worth 17,000 PLN and submitted resignation. The watch worth more than yearly after-tax minimum pay had to bring about indignation in Poland. Most Poles held it against him he had flaunted stuff an average Pole cannot afford to buy, but in fact this is just a tip of the iceberg and something not really meaningful. What should have really called into question his political career were tie-ups with businessmen (Cam-media, etc.) and mismanagement…

Tomasz Kaczmarek, born in 1976, became famous in 2007, when as an anti-corruption agency officer he seduced and then (within the letter of law) bribed a Civic Platform deputy. His mission and its aftermath was exposed to the public five days before parliamentary elections. The move, astonishingly, tipped the scales in favour of Civic Platform. In 2010, aged 34, he retired. As a 35-year-old (!!! here the term “young” is so apposite !!!) pensioner was elected a deputy from Law and Justice list. In November 2013, while driving his girlfriend’s Porsche Cayenne he was so preoccupied with pondering upon the situation of Poland that he rear-ended another car. In December 2013 recordings of Mr Kaczmarek threatening his partner’s ex-husband in foul language leaked to the media. Recently he was ousted from the grouping nurturing law and justice. Mr Błaszczak told today the party could not put up with his misconduct. They began to see the light, belatedly…

Przemysław Wipler, born in 1978, Polish conservative politician, formerly a member of Law and Justice. He left Kaczyński’s party of account of its inadequate economic liberalism and sometime ago joined Jarosław Gowin’s fledging grouping. In late October 2013 the exemplary husband and father to five children (including the one unborn, counted in, in accordance with Catholic doctrine) picked up a fight with policemen outside a posh club (as befits a conservative politician) on ul. Sienkiewicza in Warsaw. Then, during public appearances he tried to make himself a martyr. To no avail… He was really young when he took charge of one departments in the ministry of economy. He was only 27 then… Did he have, three years of university graduation, pertinent experience to be in charge of a unit in a ministry or did he owe the appointment his political tie-ups?

Adam Hofman, born in 1980 is the youngest and the most remarkable politician out of the four described by “Polityka”. His political career picked up speed when, aged 25, he was elected to the parliament in September 2005. He emerged as Law and Justice’s rising star by virtue of being the brains of the party’s electoral campaigns and PR. Brash and bold, insolent and over-confident, there is no barefaced lie, accusation, nor absurdity that would not flow out of his mouth without a moment of hesitation. The guy is not likeable, even ardent believers of PiS, on Toyah’s blog have not embrace his doings in politics. In 2013 he became infamous for boasting about the size of his penis during party’s off-site and then, for concealing in his financial disclosure statement a 100,000 PLN loan (a move quite common among money launderers). As the charges against have lapsed, the investigation has been discontinued and he was reinstated as the party’s spokesman. I foresee one day JarKacz will regret allowing him to play second fiddle in the party.

When speaking about “youngsters” in politics it is hard to fail to mention the new finance minister. This “very young” man is 38 and has 16 years’ experience in banking, including serving as chief economist for several years. Since taking the office, the new minister made very few public appearances. Judging by the sparse evidence of them, it has to be noted he is nowhere as good as his predecessor in terms of speaking in public and coming under fire from detractors. Mr Rostowski could not be denied outstanding composure. When attacked, he would always stay even-tempered, calmly and clearly made his point and, if necessary, retorted his opponents incisively. The new minister seems to have focused on turnaround of the tax system, convoluted and taxpayer-unfriendly. A stride should be made when comes to simplifying and ‘humanising’ the taxation system, but the recent proposal that tax returns will be filled by tax office clerks rather than taxpayers immediately triggers a question “who will pay for this?” – we are talking about millions of tax returns – it takes workforce that have to be paid from taxes paid by us… Well, my ideal finance minister would a down-to-earth, pragmatic practitioner, not a starry-eyed scholar. For Mr Szczurek the new position is a enormous challenge and will have to learn a lot.

The “juvenile” minister backs youngsters in his office – he hired a 21-year-old student with little experience and 23-year-old ruling party member. This gets more controversial – my perspective changes, as I am witness thriving careers of people younger than me. But try to imagine what an average reader of a Polish tabloid (much older than me, not well-educated and not well-off) thinks, when they read that a 21-year-old student will earn twice as much as them after twenty or thirty years of work, or a 23-year-old distinguished party member will earn 8,000 PLN a month before tax, salary out of reach for over 95% of Poles.

Also Mr Sienkiewicz, internal affairs minister also follows the practice of giving chances to youngsters. This is a great fodder for tabloids and their readership. The key questions is how those people were selected. If they are party henchmen or children of friends, then the practice is condemnable. If they were the most skilled and up-and-coming out of hundreds of applicants, chosen in a candidly carried out recruitment proceedings, why not. Salary of 4,000 PLN before taxes, some 10% above national average (but 100% above national median salary!) is (subjectively) not a reason for outrage. Many of my peers and I earned more when we were 23.

The post is aimed to raise a question, whether age should be a criterion when assessing someone’s competencies for a certain position. In some cultures, for example in Japan, seniority is an important determinant of one’s rank in a hierarchy, in other how quickly one can climb the ladder of career is a matter of their skills, hard work and other factors. Undeniably, the younger you are, the more likely you lack experience, because it simply takes time to gain it. But if out of two candidates with similar competencies for a specific position the older one is selected, because it seems more appropriate for a decision-maker, this looks like age discrimination.

After-exam after-thoughts

Happy to leave it behind, now an almost two-month long wait to get the result begins. Given the difficulty of the exam and level of my preparation I should be quite secure about the outcome, yet far from certainty… Many questions were tricky, means to mislead candidates, so in this case, seeing is believing, albeit I believe I did well.

For sake of brevity, just a few observations…

1. I’m getting older... Most candidates I saw yesterday looked like students. Maybe I can’t properly assess people’s age by their look, maybe many didn’t look their age, but it seems I’m lagging a few years behind the most ambitious youngsters. Some of my university friends took this exam, i.e. were on the same stage of development in June 2009, yet none has reached the end of the road and many are struggling to make further steps forward. I wanted to reach this milestone before my 25th birthday and did it.

2. It’s a men’s world... I dare to estimate roughly 80% of candidates were males. I could go on about possible explanations for this, but I will only take the liberty of mentioning there are no barriers to entry to the programme and signing up is absolutely voluntary, so I believe this is women’s choice or lack of interest in the programme that keep their share in candidate structure so low.

3. I can’t stay in one place when I feel restless. Other people can stand or sit, while I need to move around. Being in motion somehow calms me down. It’s been like this for years, even when waiting on a bus stop I have to be in motion... I’m not cut out to be idle!

4. I can’t understand people reading notes until the last moment before any exam and delving into the content thereafter. I’d been studying for eight months and finished my preparations on Thursday. On Friday I put my mind at rest and didn’t think about the oncoming exam at all. I felt a bit stressed out in the evening, upon returning home and managed to ease up the next day, after I saw first questions on the exam sheet.

5. The exam doesn’t only test your knowledge. It would be too easy. It puts to the test your logistical skills and endurance.

The former as you need to strictly obey several rules, violation of any would result in termination of your candidacy to the programme. You need to check you have all permitted items and not have anything not permitted, which made me go to the test centre without keys and mobile phone. Getting to Centrum Expo XXI is a bit of a nuisance, getting out of there as well, especially if you’re not from Warsaw. Even if you live in the capital of Poland, still it is a bit of a challenge, as it is a few hundred metres away from the nearest bus stop. Therefore I’m immensely grateful to my father for insisting on dropping me off there and picking me up.

The latter as the exam consists of two sessions. The first, which last three hours and wears you out solid, is followed by an hour-long break. The break in fact lasts shorter, some 40 minutes, as you are not allowed to leave the exam room before all papers are collected. Within 40 minutes you need to queue up to a cloakroom with 300 other candidates, get your rucksack containing a packed lunch, immediately queue up to a cloakroom to give back your rucksack and in the meantime devour whatever you can (one sandwich and one apple were my only nutrition during the day), then go to the toilet and then check in for the second, three-hour long session, which ends at 5 p.m. At that time I was hungry, thirsty, felt cold (heating was off, excellent!) and virtually prostrating. At the end you’re in for to a 40-minutes-long wait to get you coat from the cloakroom…

I’m complaining a bit, indeed, but if you fork out thousands of zlotys for something, is it too much to expect good organisation and heating turned on? Nevertheless, I recognise endurance should be tested, as working environment for people working in financial industry require this and only the fittest can survive there. And after all, sacrifices must be made in a pursuit of a better life…

Needless to say, this is all an excellent example of rent-seeking. Now I financially support rent-seekers hoping to become one of them one day…

Beer and Loathing in the Square Mile

Except for a good book about North Korea, I could not have made any better choice on the Christmas and the subsequent slack period (how I call those days between Christmas and New Year’s Day when everything Polish economy comprises of is ticking over) read. I amm in two minds whether “Cityboy” is must for everyone who wants to work or works in banking, but the memoirs by Geraint Anderson, former investment banker, who shows his readers around the darkest nooks and crannies of world’s financial capital are surely a valuable read.

Before I set out to read, I was a bit afraid the book (I read original version in English, again thanks for Michael Dembinski for buying me it in the UK) would contain a lot of slang and a blend of colloquial and offensive language. My guesses proved right, but either I am already familiar with most of those phrases or it is written in such an intuitive way that I never had problems understanding the plot. Actually over 400 pages resulted in around 200 new English words, half of which I will surely fail to memorise.

I was not shocked by debauchery depicted in the book. Lifestyle sky-high bonuses paid in the City entail and the “culture” of investment bankers’ entourage have been widely described since the financial meltdown of late 2008 and those who, like me, delved into it earlier should not suffer any shock.

But what truly upset me was the ignorance, although it should not have…I generally know how to value a company and even if you ask me to value a certain public company, I will refuse to do it, for a simple reason. Every valuation rests on assumptions which are in fact subjective projections of future cash flows, profits, dividends. The very valuation is a simple task every high-school leaver could perform, if they were only given all formulas and data. The data makes a problem and you cannot even prove an analyst making wrong assumptions. This is why you can come across discrepant valuations of big Polish companies (example: in 4Q2010 KGHM was valued by two brokerage firms at 126 PLN and 175 PLN (31 Dec 2010 close ca. 167 PLN) and Pekao S.A. was valued by other two brokerage firms at 145 PLN and 201 PLN (31 Dec 2010 close ca. 179 PLN) that put you on the spot as a market participant.

Steve Jones (the character of the book, in fact Anderson himself), a history graduate, is hired by a bank in 1996 without having any in-depth knowledge about finance. His brother, at that working in the City, arranges an interview with him and then someone decides to take him on. One good change that has been made in the City since than is that history graduates have no chance to become bank analysts and nepotism is not so widespread. In Poland, on contrary, graduates of history or political science work at banks, but they open accounts and sell cash and mortgage loans in bank outlets, so at least they do not stand a chance to get really high.

The way Jones deals with clients is slightly despicable. He openly admits what he tells clients about results of his analyses is ‘bollocks’, but he wins their trust by taking them to bars, restaurant, concerts. In fact, what he does seriously matters in business and Jones knows how to entertain people. Plus this way is widely accepted as all banks have budgets for taking clients out and Jones most of the time has fun on the house.

Money… is what life in the City revolves around. Money is not what actually makes you strive for perfection; pursuit of money teaches you how to break rules to get a higher bonus. Executive turn a blind eye on reprehensible practices as long as they do not tarnish a bank’s reputation and as long as they do not come to the light. You have to make a profit, it is up to you how you make it, you only have to remember you must not get your bank into troubles… Compliance rules – they are worth as much as the paper they are written on. Insider trading is the order of the day, what marks out the boundary between acceptable and unacceptable demeanours is not decency but risk of litigation or adverse publicity.

Financial results of the banking industry much hinge upon goings-on on the markets. Bull markets mean good times are rolling in, when bears dominate trading floors business is winding down, bonuses are tiny (just 50,000 pounds per year…) lay-offs are in the offing.

The dominance of money means that for cityboys every asset can be priced. This view goes into extremes when bankers try to price women and some even delude themselves that those young chicks, their mistresses who are with them only for money, really love them. As the picture of the city clearly indicates, money does not bring happiness. Broken families, broken relationships with family and friends, divorces, sex as a substitute of love, nervous breakdowns, burnouts – is what cityboys (or “deranged fuckwits”) experience. And even if after a few years, despite spending a lot they manage to amass a fortune, they are unable to give it up, they do not make do with what they have, they get addicted to earning money and yearn for more… Meanwhile in the city there are no real friendships, the crucial element of survival there is learning to get on with relentless rivalry.

As Anderson precisely points out, the City destroys the world all around. Huge salaries of the bankers are driving the costs of living in London up (once Anderson mentions that prices in most shops seem extortionate to him, despite his sky-high earnings). This why I would not fancy Warsaw becoming CEE’s financial hub. Most inhabitants of Warsaw would be probably impoverished as a result of local inflation (prices adjusting to earnings of financial elite) and would be totally priced out of property market.

The author also explains why playing the stock market is a zero-sum game. If you buy stocks before their price goes up, you buy them from someone else and the other market participant does not in fact lose their money, but they incur the costs of missed opportunities, resulting from not holding a certain stock.

Anderson describes in the book a few job interviews he had throughout his career. They totally do not resemble the ones I have had in my much shorter career. In the City employers look for ruthless and greedy rat-racers, even the knowledge is not the most important as it is all ‘bollocks’ after all. In Poland, in turn, I was almost always asked substantial questions concerning my academic knowledge and hard & soft skills, and they often asked about pastime activities, hobby, balance between private life and work. In Poland banks do not (thank God) seek callous money-oriented graduates, integrity is an asset, compliance rules are enforced, nepotism does not seem to exist and people without proper academic background are not employed. In Poland banking industry appears to be rose-coloured, even if it does not offer enormous salaries (the pay is decent and commensurate to efforts, skills and experience).

At some moments I felt affinity with Anderson, for instance when he revealed he had worn a suit he had bought in a charity shop for six pounds three years into his career. It reminds of my first , eight-year-old suit (slightly worn-out and knackered by dry-cleaning), which still comes in useful for every day office work. In Poland times when you were judged by the clothes you wore are over. Style matters, brand tag no longer. But unlike Anderson into his career, I do not pay over the odds for brand-name clothes, but try to pick good quality stuff.

And the book is a must for every beginning stock market player. It may leave you disillusioned but shows the truth of how markets behave. And tells the truth who is privileged on the market. Anderson spent 12 years in the city and between 1996 and 2008 markets evolved. He went through roaring late 1990s, bursting of dot-com bubble, bear market of 2000-2002 and last gasp of prosperity from 2003 to 2007. He left in March 2008, when financial world began to capsize. He came to a right conclusion that old truths about investing are out-of-date in the days when markets are driven by big speculators and volatility is much higher that it used to be. Additionally, he draws an accurate picture of depravity within the financial industry that led up to the financial meltdown. No new ideas committed into paper, but it was quite nice to read a former banker saying who was (partly) guilty.

My feelings about Mr Anderson are still ambiguous. On one hand throughout his whole career he did not stoop as low as his colleagues, at least he realised he was paid far too much and obediently paid taxes, unlike his fellows, who all practised tax evasion and whose effective tax rate was lower than the one of their secretaries. But on the other hand, for twelve years he led a life of alcohol-addicted, coke-sniffing, self-indulgent party-goer whose weekly wages were equivalent of most people’s yearly wages and rode the gravy train more by luck than judgement. But after all I think by writing “Cityboy” and laying bare the murky and devious reality of the City, he atoned for all his previous misconduct.

Some tie the knot, others clam up.

Yesterday I attended one of best friend’s wedding ceremony. Michał turned out to be the first of my close friends to decide to get married so early. I don’t know what prompted their decision, I didn’t dare to ask openly, but to dispel your suppositions I can tell his new wife isn’t up the stump spout; nor even they plan to have children within next five years. But for some reason they surely wanted to have their relationship formalised. Meanwhile I couldn’t attend another wedding which was held in Tomaszów Mazowiecki (ca. 150 kilometres south-west of Warsaw) just an hour later. Another friend and her boyfriend also tied the knot.

The wedding was kind of sad – number of people in a church (Bazylika Archikatedralna im. Św. Jana Chrzciciela in Warsaw Old Town) reached around 60, including around 20 of my age. I didn’t meet any acquaintance from school. I feel sorry for the newlyweds – as far as I’m concerned they had invited much more people and most of them didn’t bother to show up. How come? Will it happen to me one day? Will my friends cut me dead? Will they choose to lie on a beach, go for a weekend or stay at home and stare at the box instead of keeping me company on one of most important days of my life?

I handed them a gift, wished all the best in the new leaf they were turning over and headed back home. Michał and his new wife settled on not throwing a wedding reception and money not lashed out for one-night extravaganza they spent on refurbishing a flat Michał’s wife inherited after her late grandparents. Not luxurious and located on Bródno, but their own, they don’t have to take out a mortgage, which is a really great advantage. Here I go along with their decision, but many guests could have thought there was no point in going to the church if the newlyweds didn’t provide any blow-out and disco.

For the second consecutive day I passed by the cross outside presidential palace. Still thousands of tourists from Poland and abroad hang around there and a few grannies still pray to the cross and involuntarily are photographed by the tourists.

As the title goes some of my peers quite traditionally set up families, but most of us have other priorities in life. We cherish independence, carefree life, career, money, living it up, flexibility, self-development, etc. But isn’t it all about taking a path of least resistance? Isn’t it easier to live on one’s own? You don’t have to mind your second half’s feelings? But is it happier? I know some people are destined to be lonesome and feel best when no one’s around, company of other people winds them up and simply can’t get along with anyone in a relationship, but is it normal? Human being is a social creature, hence I suppose it naturally needs to socialise with fellow social creatures.

I recently had a great opportunity to observe how the pick of my generation behave. I have no idea how discernible my eye that time was, but I strongly and sadly feel we seem to a broken generation. We have no problems making friends, co-operating and communicating with one another, we can absolutely normally have fun. When necessary we are professional and career-minded, when not we have other priorities, but there’s one disturbing trait we have in common. We are all hidden in our own shells. Always smile on the face, always the awe-inspiring look that exudes self-confidence and courage. People who meet us are always amazed at how well we know what we want from life, how clear our visions our are, how eager to move ahead we are.

But who knows about our problems? Who knows when something’s eating us? Who knows when we feel helpless, disillusioned? Who knows when we’re keeping a bold face (cause that’s what we’ve been taught) while deep inside we’re falling apart? For sure at least ninety per cent of us are not callous robots but ordinary humans who hold back their feelings and carry on, even if each and every cell and tissue deep in our chests is aching. Why? Is it a matter of the new culture I wrote about a week ago?

I have one close friend whom I can tell everything and who can confide in me and reckon for understanding and honesty. I have a few close friends with whom I can talk about some personal issues, but not very intimate, those are people I can rely on in slightly difficult situations, but if push came to a shove I’d be wary of turning to them for help. I have many friends with whom I talk about what are not problems – the fact I bought some stocks and their price dropped is not a problem (unless I invested all my savings in one security and the price really tumbled). And I meet tens of people with whom I just have small talks and do businesses. Our co-operation is based on mutual indifference – meeting up and going separate ways. I don’t think it’s bad, if we wanted to take care of everyone’s quandaries we’d soon go crazy, but… have you ever thought about it in such a way?

I heard several times opinions modern, young career-focused single women are unapproachable and I can’t find any argument to give lie to that (widespread?) opinion. What do we think we stand for by doing so? Have some of us built a glass wall aroudn them? Are we proving our toughness or are we desperately trying to conceal our fragility? What is it going to lead my generation up to? Are we a broken generation? Who the hell can break through the shell?

Strange are these days for me. I’m not down in the dumps but I feel a kind of anxiety, for many months or even years I haven’t felt that insecure. Plus for four days in a row I drank. On Wednesday and Friday socially, on Thursday and yesterday without any company, just to bring the “proper” frame of mind. From today on I’m going to give it up as this certainly shouldn’t become a habit. Does something need to be rearranged? Am I at a crossroads? No matter what happens I’ll be carrying on, as I’ve been doing for years. But when will I run out of strength?