Wake up at the ass crack of dawn. The sunlight’s streaming through the windows, but you don’t notice because nature is for lazy losers. You’re rising and you’re grinding. Hop into your $5000 alpha male cold plunge setup, and then chug a cup of lard. Now it’s time to do your finance bro meditation that your Blackrock bro commissioned a high IQ psychic to make. Breathe in dollars, exhale bad vibes. Breathe in dollars, exhale bad vibes. Time for another day of WINNING.
You are a sales lead for a cohort based class teaching finance bros how to become finance bro coaches. Technically it’s teaching finance bro coaches how to become finance bro coaches who coach finance bro coaches who coach finance bro coaches, but as a finance bro coach sales lead, you know that MLMs aren’t SEXY, so you keep it short.
You hop on Zoom for your 5 AM pump-up call with your boss, Ned Goldman. This consists of you and Ned doing a line of coke over Zoom together and making monkey noises. This daily protocol, inspired by Wolf of Wall Street, replaced a much more mundane protocol, where you and Ned would go out streaking in the streets and yell “I went to Harvard, bro!” (You and Ned did indeed go to Harvard, where you participated in Primal Scream, Harvard’s annual streaking event.)
5:30 AM. Crunch time. Your assistant Lisa calls you to let you know you have a call with Nicolai Uri Mom, who’s a Merill Lynch analyst looking for something new. Lisa is someone you found while you lounged in the Philippines after three years of McKinsey.
You were drinking White Russians (with a bunch of sugar secretly added in) with your MIT Sloan friend Maximillius and discussing startup ideas — a new city but just for hot people, drones following celebrities around that punch people who ask for autographs, UberEats but for drugs — when you both realized you needed cheap labor. You saw Lisa and asked “hey lady, how much would I have to pay you to be my assistant and be nocturnal?,” and she said “fifteen bucks an hour,” and that was that.
Anyways, enough digression. Back on the fucking GRIND. You need to convince Nicolai that he wants to become a finance bro who works for himself and coaches, not a finance bro who’s caged in corporate America. Here’s how you do it:
“Nicolai, my man! When’s the last time I saw you? Probably at the Wall Street running event five years ago. I haven’t been to too many industry events recently, it’s chump change these days compared to what I make with Ned.” Stage whisper. “I make money even when I shit these days. It’s fucking great.”
“I heard that you’re tired and you’re too good for Merill. Dude, don’t look sheepish! Excellence is nothing to be ashamed of. You know, I felt just as uninspired and imprisoned and burnt out as you back in the day, but look at me now. I go out to Central Park, touch grass and sit back while my assistant Lisa does all the hard work. Work hard for others, or have others work for you? Tough choice, man.
Nicolai takes a bit of prodding, but that’s okay. There’s a reason why you have your morning routine, so you’re fired up and ready to RUMBLE. By the time you finish and have him do the free welcome dose of ketamine that you and Ned sent over, he’s ecstatic and ready to sign over his first $100k, his girlfriend, and his left lung. Just another day of winning, and it’s only noon!
1 PM. More calls with two prospective leads who you met at Burning Man. You met them while they were high out of their minds on DMT, so it wasn’t that hard to infiltrate their operating system and convince them you were their capitalist messiah, and you sign these deals quickly. You can’t believe the hard life you led previously at McKinsey. Eating foie gras with CEOs was pretty enjoyable, but it’s a different life when all you have to do is take a bunch of photos with your Porsche and watch the Benjamins roll in.
5 PM. 11.5 hours of work done. This pathless path shit is easy, anyone can do it. You don’t understand all the people who don’t understand how to make their own money. They’re low agency NPCs. If at first you don’t succeed, GRIND HARDER. It’s simple. Send out another few hundred DMs, and make sure to attach a few pics of you hanging next to models or video call them from your Lamborghini. Or better yet, ask your father to send over another few million.
Easy as fuck.
Hi friends, if you aren’t on track to roll in the millions, your 2023 must’ve been a disaster! It’s okay, you can follow these steps to get 2024 on track.
I’ve been feeling pretty rigid as a writer these days and wanted to let loose. Here’s my first attempt at satire in a while, let me know what you think.
Thank you to Alex,
and Darren Azzou for giving this a read. I appreciate it!
GRIND
OMG, this is gold!
Love the intense tempo + targeted thematic zingers through the piece! Felt like watching an action movie unfold!