Thanks to a well devised strategy to serve corporate greed, executed through cancelling my overbooked flight, I’ve managed to find myself spending Australia Day at the airport….in the terminal for the low cost carriers. There is no better place to witness the true fabric of our glorious country. Just sitting here I’ve already seen a young teenage couple possibly be the first people in history to conceive a child through dry humping as they lay across three airport seats no doubt warmed by the love they have for each other and for their hormones; I’ve also seen a family decked out in head to toe of Australian flags, flag hats, boxer shorts, face paint and of course the most Australian thing of all…obesity.
Anyway I was thinking about my predicament last night of how I thought we were going to get an early night given the next day was a public holiday and most directors were with family or clients. Of all the public holidays, you’d think the day before our chosen day to celebrate our nation’s values which I think we can all agree include slacking off/ditching work (and I actually mean that in a proud sense), that in investment banking world they’d strive to uphold the same values. But sadly the worst knock to motivation and hope of an analyst occurs…the director returns from said engagement. The Return of the Director is demoralising in two ways – firstly it means that if he has returned from this engagement – which on the balance of probabilities we could guess would be more fun than work (although this could be also disputed…) – it means that your night has doubled in length; and secondly, the vague smell of alcohol in his breath that you feel against your neck as he hovers over your shoulder reminds you of the fact that whilst he was out at his ten course degustation with matching wines, you skipped dinner and were in the office researching “briefing notes” so that he doesn’t look like a total ignorant dick in the meeting tomorrow….now that he has returned, even the chance of getting a sneaky bowl of cereal to get you through the night is shot because you absolutely cannot keep him waiting any longer than he needs to be.
For some reason when I experience Return of the Director, I always seem to imagine those movies scenes where there’s a long fight scene between the good and bad guy and then the good guy finally shoots him with a bazooka him into a molten pot of radioactive waste which somehow triggers a reaction which blows up the plant (but good guy manages to escape never looking back at the uber cool nuclear explosion happening behind him). Anyway good guy thinks that it’s all over and he’s running in slow motion away from plant and into the arms of his beloved, and in the background you see the bad guy somehow emerge (albeit with half his face peeling off) and there you realise he’s not dead yet. Whilst in the movie, our hero usually realises this from the shocked look on his beloved’s face and then proceeds to clinically kill him with a bullet to the head, yet in the investment banking version of this movie, the bad guy creeps up from behind and his faceless self uses a control rod from the nuclear reactor to strangle you from behind. You struggle and it’s a slow, painful death right before your loved one (who was blown off from your dinner date because you had to work, and now waits at home hoping that one day you’ll choose them over getting rid of double spaces).
Ironically despite the director returning the night before and then leaving you with a mountain of changes and with the strict instruction to log on to their computer and send the document “at whatever time” from their email – presumably so that he can be credited with being both the most inefficient and the lamest director since he’s apparently working till 5am – the next morning, managing director swoops in over the top, saying director has “missed the killer point” and thus it emerges that your battle with the bad guy at the nuclear plant was just that – a battle – because then the camera pans out and you can see the mothership approaching and shooting blue laser beams that are capable of turning you into a monkey chained to a desk.