Working in a city that never sleeps

I cried hot tears of joy! I immediately emailed H.R of my prospect employer. They were happy. I was happy and I finally signed my then revised letter.

What followed was a whirlwind experience. After the rigorous background checks, including calls with three people from each company I’ve ever worked for (this is why you must never lie on your resume), I underwent five weeks of extensive training. I also had to take FINRA (Financial Industry Regulatory Authority) exams in order to be licensed as a securities professional in the U.S. Most Wall Street* jobs require you to already be licensed in order to be considered for the role, I was lucky to have found a bank willing to offer me a job with no license, on condition that I would pass both the exams I needed to take within a month of joining my team. Did I not study like I was mad? The recommendation is that in order for one to pass (min 73%) you have to do at least 700 practice questions – I did 1200. There’s also a 30 day cooling-off period before you can rewrite, should you fail. Even though we were told that failing the exams wouldn’t result in dismissal, Nelson Mandela did not spend 27 years in jail just for me to go to America and fail. The funny part is that before my first exam, instead of saying “good luck” some of my colleagues sent me congratulatory messages. The pressure! Their messages were not in vain though, I passed both exams on first attempt.

 

Ain’t no day like pay day…

I had a job, which was great, but I also needed to get paid! Moola, zaka, chankura (I never use these terms in real life and I don’t know why I’m using them now but I think it makes me sound cool). But wait, a salary means you have to pay your taxes right? This meant that the other admin was to get my social security number (SSN). The good thing is you can actually start working while waiting for one. But because in the U.S payday in generally twice a month (mid-month and end of the month), my first pay cheque was due before my SSN was issued. H.R. told me not to worry and that my cheque would be posted via mail. Haibo! I saw the dollars slip through my fingers! So close yet so far! But to my fellow South Africans, the U.S. mail service is actually a trusted and well-functioning institution. Everything is posted. My bank card, work permit, SSN card and many other important documents were sent to me via mail. As in P.O. Box! I’ve never had anything get lost in the mail.

Fast-forward to when I was officially an admin-free human. I had a job, a bank account, a SSN (also required to apply for a credit card and state I.D.), securities license and a New York state I.D. (not required but very necessary so you don’t walk around with your passport). Go-time!

 

Time to get down to business…

Having had spent last year working in London, which is thought of to be fast-paced, I feel like there is no place in the world that has an intense corporate culture remotely close to New York. The days are long, every request is urgent, emails are responded to and phone calls are taken AT ALL TIMES (I have very much been on call with someone (not from my company) in their hospital bed before an op) and if you’re in banking, leave is not quite like how the rest of the world views it, here its more, leaving place A for place B but I will no doubt respond to ALL emails. I once spoke to an MD who said they’ve never had an “out of office” in their 20years+ working on Wall Street. I don’t know what war New Yorkers are preparing for, but I can see they are determined to win it!  It obviously varies from industry to industry but everyone I’ve spoken to who’s worked in other countries agrees that things are way more intense here compared to other parts of the world. New Yorkers on the other hand, don’t seem to fully understand what I mean – because this is all they know! For me it was definitely baptism by fire!

I had (and continue to have) a lot of adjusting to do. New country, new culture, new job, in a completely different (and more technically inclined) product area to what I have experience in. In my interviews I kept stating with great enthusiasm that I was looking for a challenge. Which to be fair I was, but never in a pandemic years did I think I’d get the most challengey challenge I’d ever experienced. I knew that with no recognizable school on my resume, no connections and no U.S. experience, moving at the level I was at at the time in my previous role would be a bit of a battle. But I long accepted that the story of my life is a series of three steps back to move one step forward. So I thought, if I have to regress in my career path, let me at least go into something that was going to give me a daily mental work out, and the world was listening, so I ended up in Securitization. Outside of high level info on the housing crisis and watching The Big Short, I knew nothing about Securitization. But sometimes, when you say that you’re a “fast learner” in your cover letter, you might just be required to prove it. Who would’ve thought! Has it been daunting? Absolutely! I’ve learnt either a new term or new skill every day since I started. I'm completely outside my comfort zone. It’s unsettling and exciting all at the same time. I’ve had some really tough days but all in all, all of my good days, outweigh my bad days. I’m also grateful to have been blessed with the most amazing and supportive team who have really been great in helping me get up the curve.

 

In the famous words of the great philosopher, Robyn Fenty – work, work, work, work, work, work…

Monday to Thursday I eat all my meals (supper included) at my desk while working. I would say I currently work, on average, 16 hours a day and some days I don’t even have downtime. You are literally pushing from the moment you sit down. Lunches are usually a massive bowl of salad I can never finish.  New Yorker’s live on salad. There are so many salad places around my office and they are always all usually packed around lunch time. And if you walk around the floor during lunch time, all you’ll see is biodegradable (hi Greta!) salad bowls sprinkled everywhere. On Friday evenings I at least get to eat dinner at a dinner table…or the couch with my work phone close by. Working on weekends is not taboo, naturally. 

So when Mr. Sinatra sang about New York, New York, he was talking about the intensity of it all. The culture of “stay ready so you never have to get ready”, the life of survival of the fittest, the strong belief in hurry up and GO! The deep sense of urgency. The constant rush. It is after all, the city that never sleeps…

 

*Wall Street is not merely in reference to a location but used as a synonym for the U.S. financial industry and the firms within it.

Coming to America Too

The past 12+ months have been one hectic ride! I celebrated and mourned. Lived and laughed. Lived and worked in three different continents. During a pandemic! My final destination? New York…

New York, often called New York City (NYC) to distinguish it from New York State, is the most populous city in the United States. New York, New York, refers specifically to Manhattan - or as introduced in the opening creds of The Daily Show with Trevor Noah – “the most important place on earth”! Yup! That’s NYC, always putting itself above everyone and everything else - absolutely on brand! Ranked as number one in the Global Cities Index (GCI)*, New York takes its world dominance stance very seriously! It also happens to attract many individuals who do too, making it a highly competitive environment. And as initially sung by Frank Sinatra and more recently reiterated by Jay Z with a touch of swag; “…if I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere…”

 

Ok, the intention of this blog is not to wax lyrical about NYC but rather to share some of my experiences (with a side of major culture shock) since officially moving to Manhattan from Johannesburg seven months ago, so let me stick to the script!

 

Before New York there’s the United States of America – and it really is America vs. the rest of the world. Honestly, the U.S. is just a whole different world on its own! For instance, you’d think as a mainly English-speaking country, communication would be a breeze. Wrong! A large majority of my colleagues are American so I’ve had to learn to speak American, and no, I’m not referring to the accent (which I don’t plan to adapt to…unless I’m offered cash). I’ve had to adapt to miles, Fahrenheit, inches, ounces and my pet peeve – writing the date as month-day-year vs. day-month-year (which totally makes sense because days make up a month and months, a year, but hey, when in Rome…). But that’s not even half of it. The highest mountain to summit as a foreigner in this country is that of obtaining a work permit! As an immigrant looking to work in America, there is a lot you need to consider. There is a lot that I had to consider! Most of it was learning on the go so I hope by sharing my story, I can help someone considering immigrating by equipping them with info I wish I knew beforehand. Disclaimer: what I’m sharing here is specifically my experiences as a South African woman in banking although I will try be broad where I can!

 

First thing’s first...

So the universal consideration is employment authorization to work in the country. When you apply for a U.S. job online there is one, just one question that will determine whether your application progresses to the next stage or goes to the place where failed applications go to die: “Are you authorized to work in the U.S?” i.e. do you have legal documentation that allows us to hire you?! If you’ve never worked in the U.S. / don’t live in the U.S. / don’t have a work permit, only pure luck and the holy spirit will get you through here. I will dive deeper into this topic momentarily.

Second consideration is edumacation! A Bachelor’s degree in the U.S. is typically four years. That might get you to the door. But to get in, you’ll probably need a Master’s degree or a globally-recognizedprofessional designation (e.g. CFA) at a minimum. This is particularly true for non-entry level investment banking jobs or consulting jobs because the competition is increased by freshly graduated MBA students looking to break into these industries, which leads me to my next point…

Another layer is where you went to school. The pecking order places Ivy League schools at the top, followed by other American schools, followed by other first world schools and then everything else (Ouch!). Do you now understand one of the drivers behind the “The College Admissions Scandal”?

 

First comes the work permit…

The country is not accommodating when it comes to immigrants looking to work in the U.S. The barriers for getting a work permit are many. The whole process will give you a whole lot of unsolicited character building. But there are obviously certain ways to crack it, otherwise there wouldn’t be any non-Americans working in corporate America. The easiest way to make it in is an internal transfer via an L-1 visa, meaning moving to the U.S. office of your current employer, this of course means you need to be working for one with presence in the U.S. in the first place. The second cousin-twice removed of this is getting an H-1B visa, which means that a U.S. company needs to sponsor your visa. The problem is most U.S. companies do not provide visa sponsorship (it’s an extremely long process so the company must feel like they really need you and your skills, not forgetting that you are competing with many other Americans!). The other route (the category I fall under) is obtaining an Employment Authorization Document (EAD), through a spouse legally permitted to work in the U.S. And then, if you are really extraordinary, you can qualify for an O-1 visa which is reserved for "Individuals with Extraordinary Ability or Achievement". 

The funny part about work permits is that every job requires one but in order to apply for one, you need to have a job offer. It’s really a case of a dog chasing its tail, just more exhausting than fun! I think that’s why in most cases people end up hiring immigration lawyers to help them find creative legal ways to get over the line. This route is not cheap by the way! Anyway, knowing this I did these things concurrently (i.e. work permit and job applications), with the hopes that by the time I got a job offer, I would have a permit. I was applying to a minimum of three jobs a day, every day, for over a month. I got too many rejection emails to recall! And then I finally started seeing progress here and there. In the end I made the final rounds from two banks and then in the same week, I got the worst news ever. I received an email saying that my work permit would be ready in 12 to 16 weeks, meaning at the time, the earliest I’d get it would be end of August (oh, I had already resigned from my job at the time by the way). I felt hot immediately and I said a short prayer asking God for a miracle. I concluded by saying “actually, thank you for making sure that my permit arrives in time for me to accept a job offer” (what you know about faith of a mustard seed?) then I proceeded with the final round of interviews with the heaviest heart! 

In the one interview I was interviewed by two people and at the end I just told them about my work permit story. They offered some words of encouragement, with one interviewer telling me they were in a similar situation when they first moved to the U.S. and ended up waiting for over a year for their permit. At the end of every interview I had, I would ask for advice on navigating corporate America and I got different answers every time - all highly valuable, open and honest (maybe I need to write another blog just on this). In this particular instance, the one interviewer said, “While you wait for your work permit, take time out, relax and find a hobby because once you start on Wall Street, you’ll have no idea what hit you”. Oh boy…

 

I got the job!

In the end, my last round of interviews from both banks were amazing! Then the job offer came from the company I’d been praying to work for! But the work permit was nowhere in sight! I had five days to accept or reject with a start date two weeks after that. This was miles away from the earliest I could get the work permit. So I couldn’t accept the offer and I accepted that God was teaching me the art of patience. So I finished serving my notice and after logging off my old work laptop for the last time, I was officially unemployed. My husband, ever the enthusiast, trying to cheer me up said; “What if your work permit arrived today? You should go check the post when they deliver today’s mail”. So I dragged myself to our mailbox, opened it, “Just a bunch of spam as usual” I thought to myself as I sifted through the promotional envelopes. Then, at the bottom of the pile was the envelope that changed my life! My work authorization card had arrived in record time!

 To be continued...

*The Global Cities Index (GCI) measures how globally engaged cities are across five dimensions: business activity, human capital, information exchange, cultural experience, and political engagement.

 

Reflections

The year 1993 in South Africa was the year before the country transferred to democracy. I lived with my mother in Eshowe where she spent the year at the main hospital in town as part of her nursing training. My older sister was in boarding school while my older brother lived back home in Empangeni with my dad. My mom rented a room in a big house in town which we shared with other people. The communal areas in the house were the kitchen and bathroom. In our room we had a bed and no TV. The radio, which was always tuned to Ukhozi fm, the biggest radio station in South Africa and very much Zulu was our sole mode of entertainment. I enjoyed listening to radio soap operas in the evenings during the week and on Sundays, a Sunday school show - I think it was called Ukhozi lo dado ( dado is an affectionate name for children in Zulu - the Zulu version of “bundles of joy” so to speak) or Lethani abantwana beze Kimi which means “bring the children to me” derived from the bible verse from the book of Matthew 19v14. 

While in Eshowe I attended pre-school at Eshowe Junior which at the time ran on a quota system that limited the number of Black learners sharing a class with the other races. School attendance was split in two halves; the morning session was only attended by whites students, a handful of Coloureds and Indians and a limited number of Blacks. School ran till 12pm for this group. The rest of the Blacks attended from 12pm. I was part of the second half and cannot even tell you what I did at home in the mornings while I waited for school to start but I can tell you I did feel rejected. I never understood why I wasn’t able to attend classes with the white kids. That year my mom had also started applying for schools as I was about to start first grade (class one as we called it back then) the following year. I bargained with God to at least allow me to be in a class with the whites who I viewed superior (exactly how apartheid South Africa wanted to frame our thinking). I didn’t leave it completely up to him though. I also spent months prepping for grade one interviews. I even learnt how to write the alphabet and my name. Turns out you’re not expected to know how to write when you start grade one. I learnt that at the interview.

In 1994 I started grade 1 at Empangeni Preparatory School (or simply "Prep" as it was referred to back home) and I was in the A class! My first teacher was Mrs Catteroll and I adored her! It was in Mrs Catteroll’s class that I made my very first two best friends. Lauren invited me to an exclusive tea party at her house. There was a dress code and everything. Only six girls were invited and I made the cut! I wore the dress I had worn at my pre-school graduation. It was floral with a layered bottom. Being invited to Lauren’s party gave me access to the white world and boy was it different to anything I had ever experienced! After Lauren, Lyndi, who ended up being my BFF for the rest of my primary school career, invited me to her 7th birthday party. After that I got pulled into the white circles which also extended to boys. Jason was the first boy to invite me to a birthday party. It was at their family home, a farm in Felixton in northern Kwa-Zulu Natal (KZN). Then next it was Nicholas G of the famous Empangeni family, the Granthams (those who know, know). Then it was Nicholas A whose mom ended up being my grade 7 teacher years later. And Julian, Gareth and Gavin and the list went on. Between grades 1 and 4, parties and social gatherings consisted of the same circles and I was always the only black - it was like small-scale kiddies version of  The O.C. / Laguna Beach (if the reference makes no sense to you, keep it moving, nothing to see here). Now I’m not sharing this because I want to boast about being the token black girl back then but because those years shifted my perspective and opened me to opportunities that a girl from the township could’ve never been exposed to. For one, most of my friends’ parents were friends with the teachers and I’d find myself hanging out a teachers’ house over the weekend when I’d spend the weekend at a friend’s house. There are a lot of advantages that come with a teacher knowing you outside the school environment and on a personal basis. When a teacher knows you personally, you are considered (read: privilege). 

Taken after a day of making customized t-shirt's at Lyndi's house

At my friends homes there was also reading time, a concept I found intriguing. So you’re telling me you have two TVs but have a period where they are off and everyone is reading? Ok, count me in! There was also extra murals. Everyone had to do something outside of school work so I joined hockey with Lyndi and Lauren. Then there were elite social clubs (I kid you - not)! In grade two Lyndi started the Collies club (she loved dogs). There were 7 of us - Lyndi, Lauren, Cara, Caitlin, Michelle and Karen and of course me, the BFF. Karen, who was Indian and I were the diversity candidates in the group (BEE ahead of it's time). The group was a sisterhood establishment and each month someone hosted us at their house. I refused to host. I lived in a four room house in the hood. And by four room I don’t mean bedrooms - there were only two of those, my parent’s and ours (my sister, brother and I). Once when it was Lyndi’s turn to host, it was a movie day! I will never forget this day because it was my first time ever at the cinema and the movie we watched was George of the Jungle. Lyndi’s mom volunteered to drive some of the girls there including me and so she came to the hood to pick me up. Our house had molded out cause of rain, not a pretty sight but what caught my friends’ attention was the fact that we had no gate (homes in my hood back then neither had fencing nor gates) and when one of them asked what happened to our gate, I said, very embarrassed, that it had been stolen.

A hockey player that also dabbled in netball & athletics

In 1996 Felixton College, a private school in northern KZN was established causing a mass exodus of Caucasians at my school. All my friends left and although I begged my mother to take me out of the school, our finances could not grant me the privilege. I remained friends with most of them till grade 7 regardless but somewhat now felt like an outsider again, just like how it was in pre-primary. But I made a new group of friends and life went on. I continued playing hockey and in grade 5, started after school drama lessons with Mr. Foxcroft. That man dedicated so much to honing my confidence and was never inappropriate with any of his learners. He was just a teacher passionate about his job. I remember Mr. Foxcroft entering me into the KZN leg of the National Eisteddfod of South Africa. I did a poem titled Tickled Pink which if I correctly recall, he wrote. On the day of the competition he picked me up and dropped me off at home (yes, we still did not have a gate) and I returned the favour by winning a gold certificate. Mr. Foxcroft not only honed my public speaking skills but as a writer of short stories and poems, he also inspired me to start writing which in turn fueled my love for reading. 

Mr. Foxcroft's drama class

The first library in my neighborhood, eNgwelezane was opened in 1998. This was revolutionary and a direct attack on the the "Blacks don't read" stereotype. I spent many weekends with my friends Andile and Lulu there. You could only take two books out at a time so I’d pick three books; read one there at the library and then take the other two home using my library card. My aunt, who is my dad’s oldest sister was a teacher and she bought a set of encyclopedias, Britannica Kids and the Poldy the scarecrow series which stayed at my grandparent's house which was not far from our home, so there was no guessing where the rest of my spare time went. I also begged my mom to buy a series called “You can Read” (it was an educational series, almost like Barney, but better!) and Andile, who lived a few blocks away, and I would watch it with great intensity, singing along to the nursery rhymes and learning new words.

In 1999 the world went crazy because we were nearing the end of a millennium. The term Y2K (standing for “year 2000”) was trending and everyone believed the world was ending yet panic buying was at an all time high! How you can think you’re going to die on one hand and yet stock up on groceries on the other is still quite mind boggling! Cellphones had just entered the scene and many believed that when we crossed over to the new year, phones would burst into flames because they wouldn’t recognize the year. It was basically Armageddon! But 1 January 2000 came and went and the world was still turning.

The year 2000 was a beautiful one for me. My baby brother, the most beautiful creation I'd ever seen, was born in May that year and at the end of the third term, I was named the very first black head girl of Empangeni Prep. I wasn’t an obvious choice because there were three other girls who people were convinced would take the title. How the system worked was that from terms 1 to 3, every grade 7 would have a chance to be a monitor. This allowed teachers to observe your leadership skills as you performed different duties at school including monitoring classes in different grades. Towards the end of the third term, grade 6s, 7s and teachers would then vote for the year’s perfects and head prefects. After my appointment, Mrs Rudling, the school principal at the time secretly told me that I was the first head girl to be voted for by every grade 6 pupil and every teacher (not sure what the numbers looked like with my grade 7 peers - *side eye*).

Check out my Head Girl note :) 

To put it in summary, primary school shaped my world forever. It introduced diversity and possibility into my life. I went through the initial process of self identification/discovery which would continue to evolve over time. I started dreaming many dreams! Dreams of traveling the world and owning a school and meeting Oprah - there were no boundaries to how big I could dream. I’m grateful for all the teachers who made me believe I could, from Mrs Catteroll in grade one, to Mrs Hemme and Mr Deary in grades 4 and 5 to Mrs Aboud and Mrs Hills in grade 7 and of course Mr Foxcroft and Mrs Rudling. If any of them ever come across this, I want them to know that I’m eternally grateful!