Status report
I'm writing this on the back of a "Staff Policies and Office Procedures" sheet, but I can still read the line through the paper that says "dress code: no open-toed shoes", and I can still remember the look that one of the executives gave my bare, bare toes. Obviously, employees have to wear covered-toe shoes here, because if my toes are subjected unprotected to that kind of blazing glare again, I think my TOENAILS WILL DROP OFF.
So I get into the main office at five to 8, and ask the receptionist who I should see. She's shovelling nasi lemak into her cavernous mouth, and waves a nonchalant greasy hand at me.
"Sit down first."
I swallow the nonchalance and leaf my way, nonchalantly, through the pile of corporate brochures, as the office wakes up during that perfect sliver between "too early" and "too late". People pay attention to me in the same way that a housekeeper would eyeball a small vomit-coloured stain. I feel an almost unbearable urge to wear a lampshade and at least try to look useful.
"What's your name, girl?" the receptionist eventually hollers at me from the other side of the room.
"My name's Rachel."
"Wei Ling??"
"No, Rachel."
"WEI CHER??"
After I fantasize about grinding her face into her nasi lemak while screaming my name repeatedly, I'm directed downstairs to the Human Resources department, where I'm hustled into a room by a woman who is nearly as friendly as a rattlesnake. At some point during the curt briefing, I ask if I could have a pen.
"You don't have a pen?" she says, in the same way you would say "You have a house full of dead babies?"
I reply no, in the same way you would say "Here is my neck, please step on it."
But the corporate finance division itself, when I get there, is a friendly, compact burst of bustle. People shout at each other from offices, cubicles. You can piece together conversations, projects, social lives - just from listening to office talk.
And I'm assigned to a desk next to this wonderful, wonderful boy. This is why he is wonderful, wonderful:
Me: So what exactly is your position here at CF?
Him: Pause. You know, I don't really know. But I'm sure I'll find out eventually.
Me: ...How can you not know?
Him: I just do the work they give me. No one knows anything, really. Winks. We'll just sink and swim together, shall we?
So, my first day on the job, and already, I've actually used, in all seriousness, the words "only 26.4 million dollars" in my first analysis report.
only
26.4
million
dollars
and I've read far, far too much about mortgage banking today, for anyone's good. Conclusion: being a corporate finance analyst isn't soul-crushing yet, but as is the case regarding the continued well-being of my toenails, I suspect it's only a matter of time.