Story 75

I joined Citi as an aspiring analyst in structured products. The desk didn’t have the best reputation, but I genuinely believed that hard work and commitment could change things — and that I could earn my place.

I worked mostly with a French director. On good days, she was responsive and willing to teach. On bad days, she became someone else entirely.

At first, it was irritation — sharp comments thrown casually: “you’re stupid,” “that’s dumb.” It was uncomfortable, but it was brushed off as pressure, temperament, the cost of working in a “tough” environment.

Every couple of months, she would have a complete meltdown. She never used recorded lines. She always called my personal phone. She would scream at me, call me names, tell me I was a liar, say I didn’t deserve my role or my degree. She never apologised, not once! After those calls, I often cried at my desk because I was so upset and humiliated and, over time, I started to believe what she was saying. If it happened at home, I would completely fall apart, letting everything out. Colleagues could see what was happening, but nothing was ever done.

Everyone knew. Management knew, other colleagues, other departments. Nothing happened. The culture prized being “rough and tough,” and this behaviour was treated as normal — even admirable.

Once, she forgot to remove my colleague from an email and called me stupid in writing. He was shocked. He wanted to support me, but there wasn’t much he could do. He eventually quit.

Another colleague — a senior associate — was openly abusive. He called a female intern of Indian descent a monkey. He regularly made sexual comments at work, talking about his body in front of colleagues. Several women filed formal HR complaints. Nothing happened. He was promoted the same year – great job being a bully, I suppose.


By the time I left, I was deeply depressed and completely burnt out. It took years of therapy to recover and overcome constant panic attacks. The hardest part wasn’t even the abuse itself — it was how normal it was made to feel. I do not work for banks anymore.

This is the first time I’ve put this into words, and it’s scary. I’m sharing it anonymously because I believe it matters — both to warn others, and to hear from people in this community who may have lived through something similar.