A pact with the Wall Street devil

A pact with the Wall Street devil

Perhaps the most frightening thing about Suits is that it’s not a piece of fiction — it’s a no-holds-barred account of Nina Godiwalla’s Wall Street experiences (Morgan Stanley, to be precise). The term ‘glorified servant’ springs to mind when you consider her lifestyle: chained to her desk practically 24x7, but there’s a silver lining — an expense account that, as she patiently explained to her grandmother, allowed her to dine at the sort of places they show on The Bold And The Beautiful. And let’s not forget meetings at strip clubs, tickets to Broadway shows and sleek chauffeur-driven cars. But hold on (and mop up that drool). There’s a huge price to pay for this work-hard-party-hard lifestyle. Particularly if you’re a woman because you’re not just expected to work like a man — you’re expected to drink like one too and never get drunk! And even if you manage both perfectly, you still get short-changed. So at the end of it all you’re on the verge of a nervous breakdown: permanently sleep-deprived and hung over, lonely and desperate enough to consider having quickies with strangers, and bitter. You may as well sell your soul to Mephistopheles and be done with it. Godiwalla effortlessly weaves her family life into this account — and while you get rather fond of them (particularly her grandmother), you still feel a wee bit depressed. It’s the regular Indian immigrant story with hardworking parents who push you to get the most out of the American dream. Wall Street, according to Godiwalla, is the American Dream times ten, and it’s the perfect way for her to win approval from her father with whom she has a somewhat prickly relationship. Of course, the usual I-am-an-alien anecdotes that we come across in novels by writers from the subcontinent are trotted out. Embarrassed about being hairy, embarrassed when her family speaks in Gujarati in front of her friends, embarrassed about food (her grandmother made pistachio barfi and her classmates called it barfi barf barf) et cetera. At the end of it all Godiwalla has to make a choice between personal happiness and a job people would willingly sell their kidneys for. It’s not easy because she has to factor in her parents’ hopes and dreams as well. It’s here that you feel a twinge of sadness because she started out with so much ambition and determination. While Suits is racy and an interesting eye-opener, there are certain paragraphs where you can’t help but tune out: Godiwalla’s assignment-related anecdotes are dwelt upon in excruciating detail and can be classified as ‘Everything you didn’t want to know about investment banking, even though you knew exactly whom to ask’. This book is worth a read; it may even inspire readers who are going through similar experiences to sort their lives out. As for me, I’ve firmly decided to encourage my enemies to seek employment on Wall Street.