I’m usually of the persuasion that most workplaces and managers and certainly CEOs should be assumed pretty evil until proven otherwise, and I can’t even read the words “hedge fund” without picturing a fiery hellmouth, so when I heard there was a new workplace memoir about an aspiring young writer who went to work as the assistant to a CEO at a hedge fund, I was like SIGN ME UP. My brainfilter was all ready to receive some input to further reinforce my cognitive biases regarding capitalism and patriarchy.
…Did you think I was going to say BUT here? Well, no, at least probably not for the reason you were thinking. My cognitive biases were fed sufficiently, thank you. This particular hedge fund may have featured a rather elegant hellmouth, presided over by a very courtly and, we are informed ad nauseam, nice, Nice, NICE (for a CEO) CEO, but the quiet violence of it all still stands: it’s still a whole (kinder, gentler, NICER) American Psycho/Succession kind of thing at core, and the book thus did not provide me any corrective experiences or information regarding either hedge funds or CEOs.
BUT - there is still a different “but” here to say. This book wasn’t what I was originally hoping for or expecting. It’s a little misadvertised in that its primary purpose or accomplishment isn’t really to be another terrible workplace memoir. I was disappointed at first, BUT gradually came to appreciate the memoir and what I think it achieves, which is something far more subtle and difficult to categorize.
This is a book about overcoming personal tendencies around overachievement, overfunctioning for others, perfectionism, work addiction, approval-seeking, people-pleasing, and external validation, and giving oneself permission to let go of these turbulent, gripping, driving forces in favor of cultivating a greater internal locus of control and connecting with personal guiding values and motivations.
Our first clue is that as the book begins, the author has just left a lucrative but grueling, cutthroat position in the bro-filled bowels of the finance industry only to vie for and accept what is very clearly another equally consuming and demanding role as the assistant to a hedge fund CEO - for the stated reason that she will be able to devote more time and energy to her creative writing?? Obviously this makes no sense, and there must be more to the story.
As expected, the author proceeds to take the new job and labor there for a few years, during which period she remains extremely well remunerated; equally if differently miserable and depleted at the hands of her new company, position, and “Nice” CEO boss; and still with absolutely zero time and energy to dedicate to her writing. It’s all as seemingly masochistic as predicted; the work seems often tiresome, dull, and unrewarding aside from the financial rewards; those rewards don’t seem to be worth the costs, nor does the excessive salary really seem to be strictly needed; and the reader finds themself a bit flummoxed, like why the hell is this person with so many other options willingly subjecting herself to this?
As the book goes on, though, we start to accumulate more tantalizing bits of info and hints the author drops here and there, most significantly details the author sparingly shares regarding her cultural background and her relationships with her immigrant parents and her controlling, I’d say emotionally abusive, on-and-off fiance, all three of whom have stringent expectations of the author. This is NOT a gaping open-wound confessional kind of memoir - these intimate personal glimpses are only very economically dropped in - so when we do come across them, they provide powerful context for understanding the author’s true journey, which among other things is a quest for identity, independence, and self-acceptance.
At times, I found the memoir a bit frustratingly reserved and remote: the author’s background is in quantitative analysis, and it shows. There are a lot of possibly metaphorical financial explanations, and at times I felt like I was reading one of those texts that is about a fascinatingly juicy subject like astronomy, and it’s got a vibrant picture of something like a quasar on the cover, yet when you throw open the book to read all about it, you’re just stymied by a whole bunch of italicized numbers and mathematical symbols.
However, the author’s potential weakness is also her strength: her unique set of skills and knowledge and frame of reference for the world also help create a very unique style and perspective as a writer. I can honestly say I’ve not read a memoir quite like this before, and certainly not one in the Shitty Workplace genre. This was one of those books I reflected on often after finishing it and had to sit on for a long while before I knew how I felt about it - BUT, as I’m sure you’ve surmised by now, I recommend it and found it well worth reading.