Posts Tagged ‘motivation’

The hours

February 12, 2010

“The Hours” was a charming little film about Virgina Woolf, a dramatisation of a (in my opinion) less charming book. That is not what I am talking about.

Banks tend to invest a lot in individual employees (or, if you prefer, give them disgusting perks and pay, flying in the face of common sense and public opinion and assuredly ushering-in the end of civilisation as we know it), but with it, many would assume, comes some nasty hours. There is an element of truth to this: European markets open at 8am, so getting in between 7am and 8am is sensible. Ending work at 6pm means a bare minimum 50 hour week, with 55 hours seeming more likely. For the past week my working day has got to a rather silly 13hrs, which would make a 65 hour week (assuming 8 hrs of sleep, that’s a rather depressing 87.5% of time spent in the office).

There is a temptation to see this in a “long hours for big rewards” sense, but I doubt it is that simple. It’s not as if we’re paid by the hour.

Nor is it about being a young person’s game: I am the oldest in my team and the others were out of the door at 6pm on the dot (albeit, this could be about them having a life and me being a sad, old git).

So what is it about?

Christ, if only I knew then I could isolate it, find it somewhere else and leave everything else behind.

I strongly suspect it’s about a job well done. But that is nowhere near evil enough. So perhaps its about my plans to take over the world (possibly starting with Belgium).

That’s money honey

January 1, 2010

I didn’t even want to be a banker. Not that there’s a pin-striped press gang wandering the streets of London, forcing people into a life of international finance against their will, coshing people with a stock portfolio before leaving them, possibly brain-damaged, in a marble foyer with a blackberry and a Charles Tyrwhitt loyalty card.  It’s just I sort of drifted into it.

They were handing out free beer. I didn’t even know who they were – they weren’t in disguise, it’s just my interest in banking was limited to my student overdraft – and as a student a free anything, especially beer, was of interest. I gave them my CV, and, not thinking I was their type I thought it was a pretty reasonable deal. When I returned from two interviews in London, the second of which made me absolutely certain I was not their type, I forgot about the first interview and did a rather good impression of a sour grape, swearing I was never going to work there even if they paid me, which does seem to imply I had misunderstood the basic premise of a summer internship.

At the time my views were social democratic / liberal. I could just short-cut that awkward phrase and describe myself as a lefty, but like so many labels it keeps bad company: Arthur Scargill, Harriet Harman … Stalin. It’s like describing yourself as a euro-sceptic, which, let’s face it, however sceptical you are about the European Union, is also shorthand for “I’m a right-wing xenophobic nut-job who dislikes foreigners”.

I did the internship for the money. I was a student and I needed it. Then I went back the following summer. Then they offered me a full time job.

So perhaps it was the money after all, but I prefer to think it’s more complicated than that. I used to have a manager who said “money only demotivates people, I’ve never met a person whose performance was improved by the prospect of more money“, and I suspect he is right. When it comes to remuneration people either seem to feel that they have got the right level or not enough, and that other people have too much. I have yet to meet anyone who feels they are overpaid. Money is like freedom: it’s always good to have more and it’s awfully easy to take it for granted when you have it.

I stayed for the work. I get bored easily and every day people would bring me new, intriguing, fiendish puzzles to solve – which brings forth a strange mental image of someone dumping a stack of “Puzzler Monthly” on my desk every day.

“More puzzlers, boss?”
[Through a cigar poking from one corner of his mouth] “‘Fraid so, Ninja.”
“This just ain’t right, boss.”
“This is a bank, Ninja, not a holiday camp. I should have hauled you have the coals for that wordsearch you did yesterday, dammit man.”
“Sorry boss.”
“We’re all sorry, Ninja, but it don’t get the puzzles done.”

What I’m really trying to say is that I’m not greedy, that there’s reasons other than the money. Greed may be good, but it is a surprisingly shy character trait.