I relish the fact that I don’t look like a banker, nor behave like one (in purely social situations). I prefer the guise of being perceived as clueless. I think of it as under-promising and over-delivering. Being regarded as such tends to give me better leverage, and I do love the way boys squirm when they realise what I actually do, especially after they’ve made the mistake of assuming otherwise.
Recently, some BSD at a party overheard a snippet of my conversation and interrupted with something along the lines of: “oh they have a name for girls like that”. BSD felt the need to clarify exactly what type of girl he was referring to by explaining that: “they are called gold diggers”. BSD evidently thought I was a gold digger trying to pick up bankers.
I sweetly asked whether I would still be a gold digger if I was going to earn just as much doing the same thing. The look on BSD’s face was worth every ounce of crudeness that I had packed into my retort. He then profusely tried to cover his blunder by asking me various work related questions. Yawn.