Polly's press & media appearances
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Rediscover your Passion - Go It Alone
Finansmiljøet i London - et Jobbhelvete
Fear and Loathing in the Heart of the city
My Glittering City Career Turned into Golden Handcuffs
Do Women Really Get a Raw Deal in the City?
My High Flying City Job was not worth a Life of Misery
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11th November 2006 The Square Mile offers a great salary and swanky perks, but also haemorrhages junior-level employees. So what do you do if, like Polly Courtney, you want to get out? The interviewer's eyes lit up as he scanned my CV. Here was a candidate who did everything: played football, led orchestras, climbed mountains, ran marathons ... I was exactly the sort of person they were looking for. I got the job. So did 300 others. Together, we made up the graduate intake of a large US investment bank back in 2002. Among us were athletes, actors, winners and leaders - we were the big fish from our respective ponds around the world. Over the course of three years, I witnessed the 37-strong pool of analysts in the London office dwindle to four. I was one of the first to leave. The reason? Very simple: I was a candidate who did everything, and I wasn't getting a chance to do anything.
This phenomenon is not unique to investment banking. Melissa Morgan, 26, spent three years at one of the "magic circle" law firms before opting to retrain as an interior designer. Fed up with the gruelling long hours, the unpredictable work flow and lack ing the opportunity for individuality and creativity, she packed in her £50,000-a-year job to embark on a course that will enable her to set up her own interior design business in two to three years. "I miss the salary, of course, and the perks of the City - the nights out and lunches - but these are far outweighed by the prospect of real job satisfaction and being my own boss. It's an exciting new start for me." Amanda Jones, 27, qualified as an accountant with one of the world's largest professional services firms. She then left to pursue her passion - photography. Now earning an uncertain income at a fraction of her former salary, she claims to be happier now than she was in the City. Kate Sanders, 33, left her job as an equity advisory associate to work in an animal rescue sanctuary in London. It was a dramatic change, but she knew that her job wasn't right for her and she wanted to do something more worthwhile. One thing that Melissa, Amanda and Kate have in common is: they are all high achievers. And not just academically; they are talented all-rounders who could have gone into any profession, but who were drawn to the City along with thousands of likeminded graduates. Yet, they all left their jobs. So, could it be that City firms are targeting the wrong type of person? 'We're looking for creative, outgoing, self-motivated graduates to join our team ... This is an excellent opportunity to develop a long-lasting career with the company," claims a large City firm on the careers section of its website. But wait. Nobody has a long-lasting career these days - particularly not in the City. Firms in the Square Mile have a phenomenal turnover of staff, which is why they recruit in such volume from the top universities each year. They haemorrhage employees from their junior and mid-level ranks and require a continual drip of young graduates at the bottom to make up for this loss. By seeking outgoing, self-motivated individuals - people who sing, dance, act, play - are they shooting themselves in the foot? In a workplace where employees are judged not on merit but on the number of hours spent at their desks, it is hardly surprising that those people, unable to sing, dance, act and play, become frustrated and leave. Melissa, Amanda and Kate also have something else in common: they are all women - and women don't stick around for long in the City. Men do, thought not necessarily with the same company. Many hold on to their City careers not for the love of their work, but because they can't leave. Either they have cornered themselves into an area so specialist that their skills are no longer transferable, or their lifestyle has become so expensive that they can't afford a pay cut. In some cases, it's simply a lack of time. Jobhunting is a full-time occupation, and you can't assume you can jump ship before you've found another ship to join. It would be wrong to imply it is only women who leave the City; plenty of men do, too - although a smaller proportion. But what they go on to do afterwards is very different. David Menzies, 30, was a mergers and acquisitions associate until early last year. He left to join a private equity firm alongside his friend Paul, another ex-banker. "The lifestyle is so much more bearable," he says. "But the salary's still good." Ben Harris, 29, worked for four years as a management consultant before retraining to be a barrister. He was looking for a career that afforded him more independence, but, at the same time, allowed him to maintain his standard of living. What David, Paul and Ben all did was take the safe option. They didn't quit the City altogether, but they found themselves havens within it that offered a better existence without denting their income. So, while the likes of Melissa, Amanda and Kate are willing to throw themselves into something completely new - and poorly pa id - at an early stage in their careers, their male counterparts are staying on the safer ground, preferring to join other City refugees on the outskirts - at least for a few years. It may be that men see lowerpaid jobs as inferior, and therefore aren't willing to tarnish their CVs with evidence of a half-baked career in photography or interior design. Women have a more carefree attitude. They are happy to chop and change because they don't see status as a high priority - and perhaps more importantly, don't care too much about the salary. I am not exempt from my own analysis. I left university with a first in mechanical engineering, having built up a suitably dazzling CV for the graduate recruiters. I was wooed into the world of high finance by the milk-round team from a large US investment bank, and joined its graduate programme in 2002. After a year at the firm, the fast-paced, exhilarating career that had been described to me had still not materialised. Assignments were mundane but plentiful, and my social life revolved around the work canteen with the other first-year analysts. Working until midnight was the norm, and weekends were by no means guaranteed. Holidays were frowned upon, often cancelled and reimbursed by the firm. I was earning a huge salary, but I had no chance to spend it. When I did get spare time, I was too exhausted to do anything with it. After a while, my friends stopped including me in their plans, knowing that I'd only let them down. So, I left the firm after only a year, desperate to do something more meaningful. My year had shown me that most of the myths surrounding the City simply weren't true. Being a "high flyer" wasn't glamorous or exciting. It didn't require creative, independent thought. It wasn't even well-paid when you worked out the hourly rate. I wanted to shatter some of the illusions about life in the Square Mile, so I wrote a novel set in that world. Golden Handcuffs follows two young graduates through their first year in a fictitious investment bank in London. It was a huge step, abandoning my highly lucrative City job - my first job - for an uncertain career as a writer, but my priority had always been to achieve something, and I knew that the only achievement I could make in investment banking would be financial. For me, that wasn't enough. When I left, I was swiftly replaced with a fresh-faced new analyst from the next year's graduate intake. I wasn't unique. I was disposable. That reaffirmed to me that I was doing the right thing by getting out. Like others, I walked away from the six-figure salary, the in-house coffee shops, the dry-cleaning delivered to my desk and the luxurious office gym. I miss these things, of course, but I don't miss the sacrifices that went with them. People do all sorts of things when they leave the City. But one thing unites them: they all leave because they are "creative, outgoing, self-motivated individuals". In fact, the very reason they were recruited in the first place. · Some names have been changed. Polly Courtney's Golden Handcuffs: the Lowly Life of a High Flyer is published by Matador. To order a copy for £6.99 with free UK p&p go to guardian.co.uk/bookshop or call 0870 836 0875 |
Polly's TV & Radio appearances
From Engineer to Investment Banker to Novelist
Berliner Zeitung Magazin, 2007
I Know the Pressure Matthew was Under
I Sold My Soul to the City - then Wanted it Back
Banker Novel Shows it's not all Success in the City
Taste of High Life in City can Seduce Interns
City Woman who quit City over Sexism admits Lapdancing
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