The Devil's Deal

chapter

4

Damn clients

1988 – Nippon Saiwai Bank, Cannon Street, London

My rst job in the City came by accident. It was my second

year of university and I applied for a summer job to do ling

at a sleepy Japanese bank near Cannon Street station. The

recruitment consultant had sent me there even though I had

no previous experience, knowledge of banking or obvious

administrative skills. But she told me I looked the part,

and I’m still not sure whether the remark was meant as a

compliment.

The marble reception hall of Nippon Saiwai was chaos. They

were in the middle of a reorganisation and stacks of plastic

crates made it impossible to move. A builder started drilling

and a man speaking into the rst mobile phone I’d ever

seen told him to stop or nd another job. A woman with a

clipboard asked me to ll in an application form. ‘You must be

here to see Jerry Witts,’ she said and I nodded, not knowing

any better. I like to think she identied my innate ability and

hidden talents but, as I sat there shaking in a twelve-quid suit

from the Kidney Research charity shop and my dad’s tie, I

doubt it.

Jerry Witts, it turned out, was the man with the huge mobile.

He didn’t look up from his paperwork. ‘I’ve no time,’ he started.

‘Your CV looks OK. A job for the summer, eh?’

‘Yes. Er, please.’