Showing posts with label Uganda. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Uganda. Show all posts

Wednesday, 7 August 2013

Love in the time of Banking Part 2: Romance is in the air(port)

"A journey is best measured in friends, rather than miles"

- Tim Cahil

As a college student, romance and travel were inexplicably married in my imagination. So perhaps it was no surprise that cupid struck me on one of my 24 hour commutes between home and school. Public transport and private adventure were the name of the game in the days of my youth. The end goal was to shift this onto private jets once I entered the kingdom of investment banking.

Total Travel Time Elapsed: 00 hours: 01 minute

Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the Fasten Seat Belt sign. Please take your seat and fasten your seat belt. And also make sure your seat back and folding trays are in their full upright position.

Travelling economy class on a long haul flight would momentarily convert me into a small village child observing big city kids.  My bone of contention was the inhumanity of having us walk through the space-shaped cocoons of first class and flatbed hammocks of business class before we reached our cattle-class economy seats.

A seat in economy is an automatic guest pass to an urban symphony of unnatural scents and sounds. It is, plainly speaking, a sensory overload of crying babies, toxic stomach gas emissions and home cooked food in pressure sealed plastic.


I must have had my eyes closed, envisioning another reality in which I wasn't a broke college kid, when she took her seat across the aisle. The symphony paused and the duet began. 

Sir, is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable?



Total Travel Time Elapsed: 00 hours: 53 minutes

Passengers connecting onward to other destinations are requested to check their boarding gates at the flight transfer desk upon arrival. We wish you a safe onward journey. Thank you for flying with us this morning

I changed planes and it just kept getting better. Mystery passenger and I were on the same flight (again). Sadly romance doesn't typically occur at 6 am while connecting between flights in African airports. Therefore this next flight left me with exactly 8 hours to make something happen. 

Just what could I possibly conjure up in 8 hours? This mission impossible was further complicated by her middle seat position in the center of a 5 seat row. In a post 9-11 world, all suspicious behavior exhibited by a passenger on a plane, would have had me restrained and deported by an undercover air marshal. The prospect of a cancelled US visa was all I needed to sit tight and watch the in-flight entertainment versus creating it.

Luckily, a random trip to the bathroom restored all hope when I caught her staring at me. I smiled. She looked away.  She smiled. I looked away. Our mute call-and-response signaled the commencement of the mating dance. Hope, sweet hope.

Total Travel Time Elapsed: 09 hours: 10 minutes

For your safety and comfort, we ask that you please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until the Captain turns off the Fasten Seat Belt sign. This will indicate that we have parked at the gate and that it is safe for you to move about.

The wheels touched down and jerked me forward. It was now or never. I eyed her across the plane and impolitely moved in front of the other passengers to ensure that we would reach the exit door at the same time. Once I got out of the plane, I glanced back and found her walking confidently in my direction. She smiled, I smiled and then it was awkward. 

If my memory serves me right, I believe she asked me what time it was. While I subconsciously mouthed some sort of response, my consciousness inhaled her in thirsty detail.       

As if often the case whilst paying attention to everything but the matter at hand, I found myself willingly led to a breakfast date at the airport McDonald's  It was going to be a very good morning.

Tendo transit time hours remaining: 4

Mystery girl transit time hours remaining: 3


Seemingly impossible objective(s) in mind: 1

A community of those who love while travelling


Total Travel Time Elapsed: 10 hours: 40 minutes

Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned off the Fasten Seat Belt sign, and you may now move around the cabin.

Ronald McDonald would have been proud of our fast paced flirtatious banter as we tucked into a happy all-American meal in that nondescript European airport. Perhaps it was the novelty of it all, but before I knew it, the waters of inhibition parted and we raced across the gulf of anonymity.

I have always felt that a certain distance from home permits one to push the boundaries of socially acceptable behavior and so I moved into what my parent’s would summarize as scoundrel-like ease with the mystery girl. After all, a well behaved African boy shouldn't talk to beautiful strangers, let alone go on a breakfast date within 5 minutes of meeting a girl. I reasoned that what happens abroad, stays abroad.

Total Travel Time Elapsed: 12 hours: 01 minutes

Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the fasten seat belt sign. We are now crossing a zone of turbulence. Please return to your seats and keep your seat belts fastened. Thank you.”

Its going down like a frown


I had never been to Vegas but I fancied myself a betting man. Odds were that this was a once-in-a-lifetime personal connection between two passionate but travel-weary strangers in a foreign land. This serendipitous outcome would have to be sealed with a memorable ending.

I thanked the good Lord above for the folks who designed and managed this airport. Specifically the divine foresight of creating a quiet place of rest and relaxation for those whose backpacker-like bank balances would never see the inside of a business class lounge. We accidentally stumbled upon this mecca of darkened windows and flatbed chairs and sighed a breath of relief.

I scanned the sparsely populated room and judged the terrain sufficient to pitch tent and explore the contours of our respective islands. Nervous anticipation gave way to steady discovery and I blame the rest of what happened on caffeine, sugared pastries and youth.

As I settled onto my final flight, I closed my eyes, reclined my seat and smiled. For whether quantitatively or qualitatively speaking, it was surely one of the best 24 hours of my life thus far.
Conclusion: Public transport + private adventure = timeless memories  

Total Travel Time Elapsed: 24 hours: 00 minutes

On behalf of this airline and the entire crew, I’d like to thank you for joining us on this trip and we look forward to seeing you on board again in the near future.    

  





Wednesday, 19 June 2013

Act I: Scene 1- A banker is born

""The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away""- Pablo Picasso

I turned 16 years old and was perfectly convinced that I knew the purpose of my life; I would become a banker- not just any African banker, but an American investment banker*.

* Definition of Terms
American Investment Banker = Ferrari + pit bull + multiple home ownership
Any African Banker = Toyota + puppy dog + subsidized single mortgage


This clarity can be traced to a single conversation with an investment banker during a routine parents career day at my high school. It is unclear whether it was his pinstripe suit and monogrammed shirt or perhaps the fact that his daughter (my class mate) was the single most beautiful girl I had ever met, but something told me to open up my mind and receive his wisdom. His wisdom can be summarized in the opening lines of our conversation which went as follows (give or take artistic license):
_______________

Investment Banker: Kid, whats your name?

Young Convert: Idealistic Tendo

Investment Banker: Let me tell you a fact, this year I am going to make more money than anyone else sitting in this room. Do you know what I am?

Young Convert: (mouth agape and eyes wide open) No sir, I don't

Investment Banker: I am an Investment Banker (musical cue: trumpets)

Young Convert: (Mental note: this is the first day of the rest of my life)

__________

At 18 years old I was shipped off to a wonderful middle-sized liberal arts university tucked away in Massachusetts, USA.  While my peers whiled away their freshman year in a smorgasbord of beer pong, frat parties, snow boarding and sleeping (around)- I immersed myself into anything and everything investment banker boot camp.

I hear some of you say: ""Pray do tell-but what the hell is investment banker boot camp?!" This was a ritual of activities that I created and imagined critical to achieving my conversion to an American investment banker. Including but not limited to: multiple subscriptions to the Wall Street Journal & New York Times, deciphering the nitty gritty of DCF valuation in my free time, browsing and highlighting the number one banker lifestyle aspiration visual tool: the Robb Report, taking style cues from the home of  Banker Preppy   and networking furiously with anyone and everyone remotely related to any investment bank.

Suffice to say I was one odd child.

My good friends often remind me that their initial impressions of me were closely aligned with that of Prince Akeem in the classic black american comedy: Coming to America. While I have never truly understood the correlation, I believe it may have something to do with a few episodes which included but were not limited to:

A. Showering with leather sandals because I didn't pack my rubber slippers during freshman orientation
B. My faint British accent (acquired from years of formal instruction in colonial era English private schools in Africa)
C. Referring to myself as KoK (King of Kenya)  
D. Paying $45 for a hair cut at a salon situated beside a Gucci store

But I digress...

As luck had it, my investment banker boot camp made me attractive to virtually any employer except investment  banks. This was my first introduction to the concept of the 'relevant past experience paradox': which stated that in order to acquire an investment banking internship it was crucial that you already had relevant past experience, in above all things, a previous investment banking internship. It would appear that my beer pong-frat party peers had one upped me while I slept dreaming of my Park Avenue co-op. How you ask? Well, while I was introduced to the notion of becoming an i-banker at 16, these chaps had spent 2-4 weeks each summer in high school engaged in paper-pushing related intern activities at the likes of Morgan Stanley and Fidelity. Naturally these arrangements would take a kind Uncle or two to engage human resources into letting the kids 'shadow' the work of the grown ups. Net result: name brand internship experience for future frat boy at 16 years old.

Much of my memory of those four years is blurred by the past but time flew by quick and soon it was make or break. Graduation approached and I had not secured the ultimate prize: a final job offer from a US based investment bank.

Not being one who gave up easily , I pushed on through tough times that included: spending the summer after graduation sleeping on the floor of my sisters college dorm room, riding one too many China town buses and eating a diet of pasta and cheap tomato paste.

I finally hang up the towel after 3 months of US based unemployment and quietly accepted my fate: I would return home and become an African banker. Thankfully an African banker employed by a multinational US bank.

Coming up next: Act I: Scene 2 - The Brotherhood of Banking