Team Lunch

Last Friday was an impromptu team lunch. My main boss has been placating me since the beginning of the summer by telling me that he “really wants to take me to lunch.” I saw this as standard operating procedure, since I doubted he ever actually planned to take me to lunch. He came up to my desk around 11:30am and asked me to go out with him to lunch. He then proceeded to chicken out about ten minutes later by asking the entire office to lunch. Maybe my presence is just THAT intimidating.

12:30 rolls around, and the entire office is starving. Two of the managing directors are still on the phone. Finally around 1pm, they emerge from their offices ready to go to lunch. I am hoping for something like burgers and fries. Instead there is an idiotic decision to go to some Chinese/Vietnamese food establishment. This is no Panda Express. It serves food like in the picture above. I am not a very picky eater these days, but having no idea what is being put on my plate is a little frightening. The food, for the most part, was okay. Okay, meaning that I would never go and pay for it myself.

I strategically picked my seat directly in between two of the managing directors. I do not have very much contact with them because they have much different jobs than everyone else in the office. Managing directors are the “talkers.” They are on the phone talking to clients all day long. Literally all day. They tell me what information they would like me to look up for certain companies, and then they simply regurgitate what I give them.

The guy to my left is the one that hired me, the same one that has been telling me that he “really wants to take me to lunch.” He has an awesome British accent, yet is Indian (dot). The one to my right is a forty-something white guy who is a Notre Dame grad. We bust each other’s chops when we get a chance, but I have to contain myself. Ripping on Notre Dame is just too easy these days. This clip is proof:

I sent that to him, and he has had much less to say lately. The two of them first ask me what I would like to do after I graduate. It is now my turn to placate them. I tell them that I would really like to work for them at this investment bank. Then I tell them about the internet business I would really like to start as well. They attempt to rip my business plan to shreds, but I am far from discouraged. When I retire the day before I turn thirty, they won’t be invited to the shitshow.

Then the two of them begin to ask me about fraternity life. The Indian guy was not in a fraternity in London, so I can safely assume that he slept at the library like every other one of his kind. The fighting Irishman did not have the opportunity to belong to a fraternity, as they are required to live in dorms for 4 years. Bad football. A dry town. Snow. Indiana. And dorms for 4 years. Who wouldn’t want to go there?

I tell them the politically correct things that I am sure they don’t believe. Like how “it’s about brotherhood, not chicks and beer.” It’s chicks and liquor actually. They keep pressing me for more though. They ask me, “How much do you drink?” That’s a loaded question. There is no right answer. If I tell them the truth, there will be no job offer at the end of the summer. If I underwhelm their expectations, I’m an even bigger pussy than they already take me for. I decide to side-step the question by asking them if they know what a “Power Hour” is. They don’t. I explain how it’s taking a shot of beer every minute for sixty minutes, resulting in a total of about 8 beers in an hour. They gasp. Forget explaining “Century Club.” The Notre Dame pansy says he would be passed out. That doesn’t even encompass pre-gaming for me. The next question is, “How much did you drink last weekend?” I decide to divide by three. I tell them probably around 7-8 beers and 3 cocktails on Saturday night. This still alarmed them. I tell them I went to two Dodger games (which was true), and they relaxed.

I am now scared to say anything more so I change the subject. I tell them that I believe Bank of America’s stock is the most undervalued stock on the market. They kinda shoot me down, saying that financials haven’t hit rock bottom yet. Fucking morons. Bank of America is up 61.5% since that lunch. If only I had one dollar to my name, maybe I could retire even earlier.