"To be or not to be, that is the question." - Hamlet, Shakespeare
I recently went through a 'fish out of water experience' when a new acquaintance asked me a routine question: "So, what do you do?". I froze in silence. All I could mutter was: "I am a former banker". I felt like a combat veteran reduced to fighting high cholesterol. Just how did I reach this pitiful position in which I equated the loss of my staff pass to the loss of military security clearance. I can distinctly trace three stages in the evolution of my personal identity.
Pre-Banking:
These were the days of my schooling. Education is what I did, but it certainly wasn't what I was. One of the benefits of youth was that questions of identity (asked by adults) were centered on your future career ambitions.
However, questions of identity (asked by my peers) were primarily defined by my quirky personality and bizarre interests.
If I recall correctly my bizarre interests included the following:
1. Being the greatest ever piano-playing/ classical-music-composing, kick-ass investment banker
2. If number 1 didn't work out, I would settle for being the greatest ever piano-playing/ classical-music-composing, corporate lawyer
3. Failing numbers 1 & 2, I would settle for simply being the greatest ever piano-playing/ classical-music-composing, President of the republic
I had a precocious understanding of the fact that the sound of money is music to the ears of struggling artists.
Despite my corporate/political leanings, I never thought my future ambitions defined my present identity. This was largely because my career plans were liable to change on the whim. This was until I met the investment banker who changed everything. Suddenly, I had a concise response to all the adult interrogations of future identity.
The earliest peek into identity-as-defined-by-occupation occurred at the tender age of 19 years old when I purchased the following shirt:
My mentor shook his head worryingly and warned me against dressing like a banker while I was still a teenager. I took this as the highest complement.
In Banking
I didn't notice the loss of my personality-driven identity when I first entered the brotherhood of banking. Instead I quickly learned that those who describe bankers as one generic type, are akin to those who think of Africa as a country. This is because bankers are a loosely knit collection of tribes with subtle distinctions. I present to you an example of 4 unique identity traits of bankers:
A banker is identified by their job role:
Cash Management Specialist (version African)
Cash Management Specialist (version American)
A banker is identified by their employer:
Rural Frontier Markets Focused
Urban Emerging Markets Focused
A banker is identified by their car:
Recent bank-hired former college student still on probation
Recently promoted former college hire now on bank staff loan
A banker is identified by their primary residence:
Expatriate Banker in 3rd world hardship country
Expatriate Banker in 1st world home country
Post Banking
Once outside of the bank, I faced a short-lived existential crisis. If I wasn't a banker, did that mean that I lacked an identity? I had spent years defining myself by my employer, my corporate title and my lifestyle. It often felt that society as a whole enjoyed mental shortcuts which pigeonholed individual identity to career choice, and I willingly went along for the ride.
In a most remarkable coincidence, life has come full circle. My identity is once again defined by who I am and not what I do.
Recent counter-intuitive life choices are perhaps best understood as the result of my quirky personality and bizarre interests.
Finally I am free to just be the greatest ever piano-playing/ classical-music-composing/blog writing former banker.
I recently went through a 'fish out of water experience' when a new acquaintance asked me a routine question: "So, what do you do?". I froze in silence. All I could mutter was: "I am a former banker". I felt like a combat veteran reduced to fighting high cholesterol. Just how did I reach this pitiful position in which I equated the loss of my staff pass to the loss of military security clearance. I can distinctly trace three stages in the evolution of my personal identity.
Pre-Banking:
These were the days of my schooling. Education is what I did, but it certainly wasn't what I was. One of the benefits of youth was that questions of identity (asked by adults) were centered on your future career ambitions.
However, questions of identity (asked by my peers) were primarily defined by my quirky personality and bizarre interests.
If I recall correctly my bizarre interests included the following:
1. Being the greatest ever piano-playing/ classical-music-composing, kick-ass investment banker
2. If number 1 didn't work out, I would settle for being the greatest ever piano-playing/ classical-music-composing, corporate lawyer
3. Failing numbers 1 & 2, I would settle for simply being the greatest ever piano-playing/ classical-music-composing, President of the republic
I had a precocious understanding of the fact that the sound of money is music to the ears of struggling artists.
Despite my corporate/political leanings, I never thought my future ambitions defined my present identity. This was largely because my career plans were liable to change on the whim. This was until I met the investment banker who changed everything. Suddenly, I had a concise response to all the adult interrogations of future identity.
The earliest peek into identity-as-defined-by-occupation occurred at the tender age of 19 years old when I purchased the following shirt:
My mentor shook his head worryingly and warned me against dressing like a banker while I was still a teenager. I took this as the highest complement.
In Banking
I didn't notice the loss of my personality-driven identity when I first entered the brotherhood of banking. Instead I quickly learned that those who describe bankers as one generic type, are akin to those who think of Africa as a country. This is because bankers are a loosely knit collection of tribes with subtle distinctions. I present to you an example of 4 unique identity traits of bankers:
A banker is identified by their job role:
Cash Management Specialist (version African)
A banker is identified by their employer:
Rural Frontier Markets Focused
Urban Emerging Markets Focused
A banker is identified by their car:
Recent bank-hired former college student still on probation
Recently promoted former college hire now on bank staff loan
A banker is identified by their primary residence:
Expatriate Banker in 3rd world hardship country
Expatriate Banker in 1st world home country
Post Banking
Once outside of the bank, I faced a short-lived existential crisis. If I wasn't a banker, did that mean that I lacked an identity? I had spent years defining myself by my employer, my corporate title and my lifestyle. It often felt that society as a whole enjoyed mental shortcuts which pigeonholed individual identity to career choice, and I willingly went along for the ride.
In a most remarkable coincidence, life has come full circle. My identity is once again defined by who I am and not what I do.
Recent counter-intuitive life choices are perhaps best understood as the result of my quirky personality and bizarre interests.
Finally I am free to just be the greatest ever piano-playing/ classical-music-composing/blog writing former banker.
This brings to mind a passage I read at Marc and Angel:
ReplyDeleteAs I stood in a room full of people at a cocktail party once, I realized that every opening conversation was dominated by this question, “What do you do?”
We seek to understand and define people by their ‘doing’ in the world. For some reason we categorize and rank people’s worth in this world by what they “do.”
Does what you do matter more than who you are? No. What you do is only a small part of who you are.
Do we care about each other enough, and are we interested enough in what we can learn from each other, to stop asking “What do you do?” and start asking “Who are you? What is your story?” - via: