When I joined investment banking, I thought the hardest part would be the hours. I was wrong. The hardest part is functioning during those hours. Three consecutive all-nighters while tracking a merger model or revising a pitch deck is not humanly sustainable—not without help.
That’s where the pills come in.
No one talks about it openly, but it’s everywhere. You start with coffee. Then it’s energy drinks. Eventually, you get introduced to modafinil—“moda” for short. Someone hands you a pill on day four of a live deal and says, “Take half. You’ll focus all night.” They’re not lying. You’re sharp, awake, productive. And when it wears off, you crash—hard.
To survive that crash, many turn to sleeping pills. Zolpidem. Trazodone. Benzos. It’s a cycle. Stimulate to stay up, sedate to come down. The irony is, you’re constantly playing chemist just to maintain the illusion that you’re fine. That you’re “crushing it.” That the 2AM email was sent with a clear head and not while your body was screaming for rest.
At first, I rationalized it. Everyone around me was doing the same. Associates were trading Adderall like breath mints before a major pitch. Directors openly discussed Ambien routines on red-eye flights. The culture doesn’t just tolerate it—it quietly expects it. You either keep up or fall behind. And falling behind isn’t an option when bonuses, promotions, and reputations are on the line.
What makes it more dangerous is the silence. There’s no HR training about substance use in high-stress environments. No manager asks how you’re holding up mentally. As long as the decks are ready and the calls are covered, you’re “doing great.”
But it wears you down. Your sleep becomes fragmented. Your body forgets what natural rest feels like. Some nights I lie in bed completely exhausted and still can’t sleep without popping something. Other times, I wake up wired at 4AM because the previous day’s stimulants are still in my system.
I’m not proud of it. I’m also not special. This is normal here.
Wall Street rewards output, not well-being. And the drugs? They’re not about partying. They’re about survival.
Eventually, you start to wonder what the cost is. And whether the sharp edge you’ve gained is worth the parts of yourself you’re quietly trading away.