At Goldman Sachs, Lunch Is Still Only For Wimps

Bloomberg

Mark Gilbert

March 30 (Bloomberg) -- Reading Goldman Sachs Group Inc.'s annual report this week (party on, dude) made me wonder: What's life like at the world's second-largest securities firm?

Imagine my joy at finding a ``Day in the Life'' section on Goldman Sachs's Web site. The diaries are penned, allegedly, by junior staffers around the world. So, pinch of salt at the ready, let's join the young masters and mistresses of the universe.

Meet Amol, a vice president in Treasury. Amol says he's at his New York desk by 7:30 a.m. He must be a genius speed-reader. While I'm wading through invitations to boost my bedroom performance or help relieve deceased African dictators of their ill-gotten millions, it takes Amol just 15 minutes to sprint through his e-mails and check on the day's news.

Lunch doesn't get a look-in with Amol, who lurches from morning to midday to afternoon without pause. That pinch of salt comes in handy when Amol says he's an 11 1/2-hour-day guy; ``Usually, I make it out of the office by 7:00 p.m.''

Amol is clearly a slacker. Racing up the greasy pole ahead of him is Juan, in the New York credit risk management department. ``I'm going to run to the office this morning,'' enthuses Juan at 6:30 a.m. ``I've got a lot of stuff to do today, so let me start it right!'' Way to go, Juan!

Breakfast of Champions

Juan's next entry, though, isn't until 8:15 a.m. ``I'm famished,'' he says. After running for more than 90 minutes, I'm not surprised. Juan gives himself a half-hour to check e-mail and news while inhaling a bowl of Wheaties at his desk, ``and then my day really begins.'' Wow. A Goldmanite starting work at 8:45 a.m. Maybe Juan won't be making managing director after all.

It gets worse. Not only is Juan taking a lunch break, he's ``out to my favorite Italian place with some of my buddies. We'll go over some projects but more than likely we'll talk about sports and soccer in Europe.'' I can see Juan's shiny new red Ferrari disappearing over the horizon without him.

But wait. This is Goldman, remember? ``7:30 p.m. Dinner! While eating, I'll analyze financial modeling. 10:00 p.m. Whew! What a day, and it's about to end!'' Nice recovery, Juan! We'll make a Goldman partner of you yet!

Amy, an associate in the equity capital markets division in New York, says she gets to work between 7 a.m. and 7:30 a.m. I would bet she's never arrived at her desk later than 7:01 a.m.

Fail to Prepare

``Unless there's an early morning meeting, I spend some time reviewing the issues my group is currently working on and getting prepared for the day ahead,'' she writes. Presumably, then, if there IS an early morning meeting, Amy has no chance to prepare for the day ahead.

Her morning ``zips by'' working with a client who is considering selling shares to the public. ``During this time, I speak with my people working on the issue.'' Crikey. So THAT's the secret of Goldman's success. Radical, eh?

Once the morning has zipped by, we get to lunch. Except lunch, as we all know, is for wimps. Unless you're Juan.

Here's Amy's take on lunch: ``One advantage of this job is the variety of challenges we face -- and the number of people across the firm whose talents we tap to deal with them.'' I'm waiting for Amy to admit she gets the office junior to schlep out to the deli and decide whether she'll be having the pastrami on rye or the Reuben.

I'm wrong. She finds time to ``slip away for a quick lunch with a friend from the London office who is in town for the week. I'm back at my desk by one-thirty.''

Beer O'Clock?

What I'm gagging to know, of course, is when does Amy get to head out to the bar? What time do Goldman guys and girls really finish work? Sadly, Amy isn't telling. ``When the day ends depends entirely on the workload,'' she writes. ``It can be short or long -- sometimes ending in the evening.'' I think Amy doesn't properly understand the words ``short'' or ``sometimes.''

If you are thinking of joining Goldman Sachs, you might want to push for the San Francisco office where Ming, an associate in the private equity team, says the day starts at 7:30 a.m. and the phone doesn't ring until 9 a.m. Even Juan can't compete with that for relaxed.

In his 485-word note, Ming manages to refer to diligence four times. There's due diligence, diligence calls, more due diligence. ``We diligence potential investment opportunities,'' he writes.

Verbal Tics

Ming's verbal tics continue with his interpretation of ``winding down.'' To me, winding down is kicking off your shoes, pouring a drink, Mariah Carey on the stereo, relaxing on a sofa or an armchair. OK, maybe not Mariah, but you get the picture. To Ming, winding down is three more hours at the office, leaving at 8:30 p.m. Just a 13-hour day, Ming?

``Our culture is difficult to describe in words, let alone a paragraph,'' Goldman says in its annual report. ``It is lived. It did not appear overnight, but is a product of our history, and has been cared for by each successive generation of our people. Its hallmarks -- excellence, teamwork and integrity -- are grounded in strong business judgment and accountability.''

It's instructive that one of the executives mentioned in the annual report is Lance LaVergne. In olden times, LaVergne's title would have been personnel director. More recently, he might have been described as the human resources chief. Today, LaVergne is Goldman Sachs's vice president of ``human capital management.'' What an odious phrase.

I think I can describe Goldman Sachs's culture in words that probably apply to the entire investment-banking industry: Sweat the assets -- all of the assets -- as hard as you can, for as long as you can. No wonder so many bankers are legging it to the hedge funds as fast as they can.


To contact the writer of this column:
Mark Gilbert in London at magilbert@bloomberg.net.