My Nightmare of a Bonus
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The other night, I woke up shaking from a dream I had about bonus day, the envelope I received, and my reaction to it. None of the three was anything to be proud of.
To make one thing clear, I usually do not remember my dreams. Therefore I was all the more upset when I woke up in the middle of the night still remembering key parts of a bonus scenario my subconsciousness had just talked me through.
My boss had asked me into a room to hand over the usual envelope, but unusually, left me alone to open it. When I looked at the letter, all I saw were empty fields. I stepped out of the meeting room and shouted across the trading floor (in a loud, untypically rude manner) that there was nothing in the envelope.
After he shouted back that this meant my bonus would be exactly that, I started a rant across the floor. I did not forget to mention what I thought of him, of his managerial skills, and how I couldn't believe I had turned down job offers earlier in the year to be treated like this.
Things seemed to have settled later on in the dream when I received a phone call from risk management (Freud would have a field day with this). My co-worker told me that the word on my behaviour had spread but that I shouldn't beat myself up about it since six people on the equity desk had received similar treatment and thrown similar tantrums.
Awake and left to analyse my dream, I remembered my first City bonus and how back then, it was exactly that - a bonus. Junior role, low expectations and simply some extra cash in the pocket as an additional benefit. At that time it was nothing I was accustomed to, it was no integral part of the household income, and most definitely was not causing anxiety, sleepless nights or nightmares.
Over the years it has developed more and more into something I can not or do not want to do without, and has become more and more a justification to do the job. An almost damages-like incentive to put up with everything from office politics to the lack of work life balance.
But maybe it takes a nightmare-like scenario to finally be weaned off the cosiness I have got used to and start thinking under what circumstances it is worth continuing the job. Maybe it's time to re-focus, return to the drawing board and assess what is really important.
Like sleeping through the night.
My boss had asked me into a room to hand over the usual envelope, but unusually, left me alone to open it. When I looked at the letter, all I saw were empty fields. I stepped out of the meeting room and shouted across the trading floor (in a loud, untypically rude manner) that there was nothing in the envelope.
After he shouted back that this meant my bonus would be exactly that, I started a rant across the floor. I did not forget to mention what I thought of him, of his managerial skills, and how I couldn't believe I had turned down job offers earlier in the year to be treated like this.
Things seemed to have settled later on in the dream when I received a phone call from risk management (Freud would have a field day with this). My co-worker told me that the word on my behaviour had spread but that I shouldn't beat myself up about it since six people on the equity desk had received similar treatment and thrown similar tantrums.
Awake and left to analyse my dream, I remembered my first City bonus and how back then, it was exactly that - a bonus. Junior role, low expectations and simply some extra cash in the pocket as an additional benefit. At that time it was nothing I was accustomed to, it was no integral part of the household income, and most definitely was not causing anxiety, sleepless nights or nightmares.
Over the years it has developed more and more into something I can not or do not want to do without, and has become more and more a justification to do the job. An almost damages-like incentive to put up with everything from office politics to the lack of work life balance.
But maybe it takes a nightmare-like scenario to finally be weaned off the cosiness I have got used to and start thinking under what circumstances it is worth continuing the job. Maybe it's time to re-focus, return to the drawing board and assess what is really important.
Like sleeping through the night.
Here Is The Writer : Square Mylo
Square Mylo came to London with the intention of staying six months and never left. He has worked in Canary Wharf and in the Square Mile, but still maintains a clear conscience since he's never worked in Mayfair. Being a banker is his true calling. Maybe he should have listened more closely.
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