Peter Bruce Editor-at-large & columnist

So, you want to be an investment banker? Sitting on yachts in European harbours watching the common folk go about their ordinary holidays? Want to fly first-class? A gorgeous wife, and your kids at the best schools? Want your bonus to look like a small city budget? Yep, the money to be made can be mouthwatering. But there’s a price to pay behind closed doors where no-one can watch you debase yourself. You have to kiss serious ass. You bow and scrape and beg and plead. Please sir, give me your business; please sir, I’ve got this idea for your already glorious company, won’t you have a look at it? Journalists don’t make the investment banking money, but no-one tells us what to do. Well, mostly. I am reminded what a dreadful business investment banking is by a leaked letter in circulation. It is from Martin Kingston, the impeccably-connected CEO of Rothschild in SA, to the current (but not for much longer, some say) CEO of Eskom, Phakamani Hadebe. The letter is being hawked around by I...

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