Polly Courtney - author of City-based novel Golden Handcuffs and forthcoming Poles Apart

P O L L Y C O U R T N E Y

Author of Golden Handcuffs: The Lowly Life of a High Flyer | Poles Apart: An Immigrant's Tale | The Day I Died: A Question of Identity

Polly's press & media appearances

Poles Doing Good...

Nowy Czas, 2008

The Story of Marta D

New Times, 2008

Breaking Stereotypes

Nowy Czas, 2008

Self-flagellation and the City

The Spectator, 2008

Women Inc.

Netherlands, 2007

Seksisme in the City

Volkskrant Banen, 2007

Der Grosse Geldregen

Stern Magazin, 2007

Rediscover your Passion - Go It Alone

City AM, 2007

Med Hand-Jern i City

Dagens Naeringsliv, 2007

Finansmiljøet i London - et Jobbhelvete

Karrierlink.no, 2007

Fear and Loathing in the Heart of the city

Cambridge Evening News, 2006

Beyond the City Limits

Guardian, 2006

Unlocking my Golden Handcuffs

The LSE Beaver, 2006

Sexism in the City

Metro, 2006

De Gouden Boeien van de City

FEM Business, 2006

Sexism and the City

Euromoney, 2006

My Glittering City Career Turned into Golden Handcuffs

Daily Express, 2006

Do Women Really Get a Raw Deal in the City?

Evenings Standard, 2006

My High Flying City Job was not worth a Life of Misery

Observer, 2006

From Engineer to Investment Banker to Novelist

The Fountain

March 2007

I joined the firm in summer 2002, armed with a 1st in Mechanical Engineering and ambitious intentions for my career in London’s square mile. The recruitment team had described the world of banking at the graduate ‘milk round’ dinners: hard work, long hours and a competitive workplace – with tremendous rewards. I knew what to expect.

So it was with trepidation as well as excitement that I boarded the plane for an eight-week summer ‘boot camp’ in New York. The training was hard, but the trip was exhilarating. How could it be anything else, with 300 fresh-faced twenty-somethings living in plush hotel suites in the heart of Manhattan? It helped, of course, that a lump sum of £7,500 landed in our bank accounts the day we arrived.

Back in the UK, were shown to our desks in the giant white building, and put to work. It was daunting, but I knew I’d be OK. I was used to the work-hard, play-hard regime.

Within weeks, my life took on a new rhythm. I would be in the office by 8am, and sit at my desk until late at night – whenever the work was done. The assignments were mundane, often pointless, and the strict hierarchy meant that analysts had no way of managing their workload.
I frequently cancelled social arrangements because of work set at 6pm with a deadline of the following morning. One night, I was woken at 2a.m. by a taxi waiting to take me back into the office. I was beginning to realise why we were being paid £40,000.
It was Christmas when I made my decision. I was going to leave – but not right away. I needed to hold out for a whole year, partly for the sake of my pride and my CV, but mainly because if I left during my first year, I would have to repay the £7,500 ‘golden hello’.

It felt defeatist, leaving after only a year, but it was the right thing to do. I had underestimated the sacrifices that went with the salary.

My time in the city didn’t go to waste – far from it. I turned my experiences into a book, Golden Handcuffs, a fictional account of two young graduates trying to make it in the square mile. I never imagined, sitting slumped in the back of a taxi scribbling notes on a frustrating day’s events, that this would be the start of my career as a writer, but that was exactly what it was – and I don’t regret a second of it.