When I decided to join Investment banking, the most challenging part would be putting in the hours. It’s not; I was wrong. The hardest part is functioning during those hours, having back-to-back all-nighters while trying to track a merger model or revising a pitch deck. And it’s not humanly possible to survive without help. That’s where the pills come on.
Nobody wants to talk about it openly, but everyone is using it. You start with coffee, and then it becomes energy drinks, finally being introduced to modafinil or 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.
Now, to survive this crash, people turn to sleeping pills. Zolpidem. Trazodone. Benzos. It’s a cycle. Stimulate to stay up, sedate to come down. The irony is that you’re constantly playing chemist to maintain the illusion that you’re fine. That you’re “crushing it.” That the 2 AM email was sent with a clear head and not while your body was screaming for rest.
In the beginning, I rationalized it. Everyone around me was doing the same thing. Associates were trading Adderall like breath mints before a major pitch. Directors openly discussed Ambien routines on red-eye flights. The culture has quietly expected it from us for the sake of the company and our jobs. And falling behind isn’t an option here when bonus, employment, competition and promotion are at stake.
I think what’s making it more dangerous is the silence. There is no HR trained to understand substance use in a high-stress environment. No managers ask you how you’re holding up with the office environment or mentally if you’re doing well. As long as the decks are ready and the calls are covered, you’re “doing great.”
But it wears you down every day, one at a time. Your sleep is messed up, and your body forgets what natural rest feels like. So many nights, I lie in bed completely exhausted and still can’t sleep without popping something into my mouth. Other times, I wake up wired at 4 AM because the previous day’s stimulants are still in my system.
I’m not proud of it; I dont think anybody is either. But I’m not special; this is very 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 of all of this. Whether this edge you have gained is even worth trading away a part of yourself. You can’t help but feel hopeless and tired.