People think being an investment banker in New York is all sharp suits, rooftop parties, and million-dollar deals. And while some days do look like that, most of my life happens between glowing Excel sheets, back-to-back calls, and the quiet hum of Midtown at 2 a.m. when I’m still in the office finishing a model that absolutely must be perfect.
Working on Wall Street teaches you one thing quickly: time isn’t money—energy is. You spend it, invest it, stretch it, borrow it, and on some days, you outright run out of it. But surprisingly, that pressure doesn’t break you. It shapes you.
My day usually starts before the sun shows up. I grab a coffee from the cart guy near 47th—he knows my order without asking, which feels like luxury in a city that never stops moving. By 7:30 a.m., I’m scanning overnight market shifts, prepping for client calls, and analyzing valuations. Numbers can be brutal, but they never lie; that’s what I love about them.
Afternoons are chaos in a suit. Emails, investor presentations, negotiations, internal reviews—every minute feels bought and sold. And yet, there’s a weird thrill in watching a deal go from an idea to a signature on a contract. You realize you’re not just pushing numbers; you’re moving companies forward, influencing futures, shaping real things.
But the best part? The city outside the glass tower.
Sometimes I step out late at night, loosen my tie, and just watch the skyline. There’s something grounding about New York after hours. The same city that exhausts you also inspires you. You feel small, but in the best possible way—like you’re part of a machine that runs on ambition.
People ask why I stay in a job this demanding. The truth? I love the intensity. I love the pace. I love the feeling of closing a deal after 90 hours of work. And I love knowing that tomorrow will challenge me even more.
Wall Street isn’t for everyone.
But for some of us… it’s home.