So, I was analysing banks on that particular morning. Or rather I was trying to analyse them. The task can be considered as easy, of course, but not when you hate analysis and banks in particular.
Mind you, till that rainy morning I wasn’t aware of my problem. In fact, I had no problem whatsoever.
I was young, had three university diplomas, spoke four languages, had a membership in a prime sports club and a job in finances. The fact that with one diploma in languages and two in international politics I wasn’t really fit for finances didn’t cross my mind till then. And why should it? Who, nowadays, ends up in the job of his or her dreams? And in any case, in the field of finances, I was reaching quite a high point. Only two months earlier, my boss asked me to take over a portfolio of equities. Not only was I a financial analyst of banks I was also a portfolio manager (quite an important status by society’s standards).
However, on that day, the little rebel who was inside me and of whom I wasn’t aware, on a subconscious level decided to manifest himself. Not that it happened that suddenly – after all I was on my tenth day of no -sleep, but it still took me by surprise.
In fact, till that morning I was quite a perfect product of the system. Apart from some lapses at school, I managed to fool everyone around, including myself, that I was entirely fit for life. I reckon that I even thought that I was happy.
This legacy of being fit for life in terms of exterior image and career choice was obviously a legacy of my communist past. From childhood I learned that, in order to succeed, I had first to become a pioneer (the first grade on the scale of communism), then a comsomol (the second grade on the scale of communism) and finally, a communist (the final grade on the scale of communism). This imposed discipline, and knowing one’s goals in life helped me quite well in my childhood, but of course, when communism was gone and when I moved to the Western hemisphere, my life priorities should have changed. After all I was living in a free society.
But, of course, I wasn’t. It was a different gradation system, less visible and subtler, but it was still there, and thus, my life priorities remained more or less unchanged. In order to succeed in life, one had to finish university, excel in career, be a member of a fitness club (and go there), get married, have kids (especially in the case of women), still excel in career (and have perfect kids), make money, and project, in general, a strong image of success on everyone else, even when it was fake.
In my case it was fake but I didn’t know it. That rainy morning was the first time I realised that my life sucked.
I would probably escape the psychiatric hospital if I was more prepared for the event. But in my case, I wasn’t. In total astonishment I caught myself saying aloud while trying to make estimates for my banks:
“Fuck the banks, I need some beauty treatment.”
Ruud, my desk neighbour and a fellow analyst of banks looked at me in astonishment. Until then I had a strong disliking for my neighbour. Ruud belonged to the category of people who, without option of anything better, managed to strike a good balance in hell. He came to work at nine exactly, had his lunch at one exactly (eating the same sandwich every day), and by five o’clock he was out of the office, whatever financial or company crisis was looming.
In fact, there were a few things that I could learn from Ruud, but this I would only discover later.
Instead, I replied with a look of irritation to his curious glance and focused my gaze on the crows outside the window. They were much more interesting than banks.
For an additional ten minutes I tried in vain to refocus my attention on banks. My job was very important – I kept repeating to myself. But the small rebellious voice in my head kept on replying that there were better things to do in life. Like having a pampering massage and a glass of champagne. I tried to chase the image of myself sipping at a glass of champagne, but it kept on coming back. The image was so tempting and strong that finally, giving up, I closed down my computer, put some belongings into my bag, drew a kiss with my lipstick on the computer screen, took my coat and waved goodbye to the astonished faces of my colleagues. No one tried to stop me on my way out, as speculation that I wouldn’t come back to the office didn’t even cross my colleagues’ minds. I was after all, one of the best workers of MoneyCare, super responsible analyst of banks.
Outside the office I stopped for a few minutes to observe the crows. They were rather cute, in my opinion. I was also surprised that I hadn’t paid any real attention to them before, or to any other birds or animals for that matter. As far as I could reckon I was always running to and from the office, never stopping to notice what was happening outside my job and highly regulated life.
I made the decision to change it. Instead of heading to the underground station to take me to the centre, I started to walk. I wasn’t rushing anywhere. Despite some rain and rather cold weather I was feeling warm. I was feeling happy and joyful.
“Life is fucking beautiful!” I shared my feelings with a passing corporate worker dressed in a smart suit. Instead of stopping and joining me in admiring the sky, he accelerated his pace. In fact, he looked slightly frightened. I laughed into his back.
Once I started to laugh I couldn’t stop. After all life was indeed funny. Giggling like mad I couldn’t drag myself from the square where several banks had their offices. Men in suits were returning to their work from lunch. Some of them were hurrying to finish a sandwich, while others had a more leisured pace, but none of them stopped for a second to look at the crows or notice two beautiful swans on the nearby lake. How was it that I hadn’t noticed this ridiculous setting before? How come, instead of enjoying nature, I was sitting behind my desk all day long for five days a week to culminate it with a trip to the gym? I was sure that all these bankers had more or less the same life, but from now on I knew better. Rain was pouring over me, but I didn’t mind. It was cold but I felt that I could even do without a coat. Banks were calling me with their estimates but I couldn’t give a damn.
Heading to the nearest bar I ordered a bottle of champagne.