Story 267

Gentle reader, this author has observed many a spectacle in her time. Yet nothing — not the most brazen advancement seeker of no particular merit, not the most shameless title hunter — quite prepares one for the singular institution that is Citi.

For at Citi, no one will give you a job description. But if you pay attention, you will find one. It is The Meeting.

Not the meeting as a tool for alignment, decision-making, or progress. The meeting as the job itself. Thirty people in a room, most of whom have no business being there and nothing to contribute. One observes and one does not marvel for long.

The goal is to avoid solving the problem on the agenda — to circle the drain from the actual issue, to ensure that no one is ever clearly responsible for an outcome, and to generate enough collective presence that accountability cannot find a single person to land on.

That, dear reader, is the job done.

This author arrived believing competence would speak for itself. It does. That is exactly the problem. This place runs on willful blindness. Safety requires consensus. Carry an umbrella or get wet.

One was asked — directly, by someone who meant it as counsel — does one know what happens to people who put their hand up?

There is safety in numbers. Show up to the meeting. Rehash the same story. Keep your head down.

At Citi, the most gilded members of the Crab Bucket are the first to pull down any soul who dares to reach for the light. Their beribboned pincers will destroy the careers of anyone who tries to climb out.

This author’s sincerest advice — do not be counted among them. To refuse is the most elegant act of discernment one can undertake.

Until next time, gentle reader. This author shall be chronicling.