This is a story of queue jumping and those who get left behind...

I keep this in my wallet, to remind myself not to be one 0f the self-important pricks who thinks they deserve their position in the world. It reminds me that it's never OK to barge in front of the struggling masses. I found it in the middle of a forest in Ireland. The former owner, I imagine, was a jumped-up London eedjit who littered one of the most beautiful and unspoilt parts of our world I have ever seen. This little patch of green is one of the few places to not have been totally screwed by selfish and greedy monsters.

This keepsake also reminds me of the day that I decided to make a switch, from being so consumed with the rat race that I was unable to stop and smell the roses, to notice that there are very few places left that have not got massive concrete tower blocks, huge piles of plastic rubbish, terrible air quality, polluted rivers and all the increasingly obvious signs that the human race is acting with little or no care for the future of the planet.

It also marks the day that I reconnected with nature, having been stuck in the concrete jungle for far too long. The problem with London is, that unless you have a healthy outdoor hobby, like cycling or surfing, you have very little connection with your environment. We live under artificial lighting 24 hours a day, and our views are dominated by huge buildings, not towering trees.

Another problem with London is the drinking culture. I'm not sure if London drinks alcohol to switch off and get some sleep, after all those strong coffees, or whether to numb the realisation that the standard of living is actually pretty poor, when you consider long commutes, high rents, overcrowding, crime rates and poverty everywhere you look (except for Canary Wharf, which is a private estate).

So, I decided that I am going to quit drinking. This is harder than you would think, when you work in an industry where a standard interview joke with a candidate is "Do you drink? Don't worry if you don't, we can send you on a course". They closed the bars in offices, as the City has cleaned up its image, but you can still roll from your desk straight to a bar within barely a few strides.

Let's be clear about my drinking though. I drank pints of lager out with the lads from work. Drinking spirits and drinking alone set of alarm bells in my head, luckily, but binge drinking huge amounts of beer is not good either, even if everyone else around you is doing it too.

It has taken some time to prepare my colleagues for the relinquishment of my final vice. I have never smoked in my life. I gave up caffeine over the last year or so and I am now completely decaffeinated. I am targeting targeting a 1 pint a week, which will be cut to zero in October. This is a drastic reduction from having 5 or 6 pints of Peroni (over 5% alcohol) on a midweek evening, and my body and my colleagues have felt the impact.

So, at first, my body was extremely unhappy about going alcohol free. My sleep was terrible. I was waking up sweating in the middle of the night. In the morning I felt like I was full of flu: aching joints, feeling sick, painful abdomen. This was when I was STOPPING... surely we are supposed to feel better, not worse? Well, as it turns out, it takes quite a long time before you start to feel better.

I was shocked by how long it has taken me to taper my alcohol consumption down to just a single social drink, which I accepted on the proviso that nobody was allowed to pressure me into having another one, and I would go home after I had finished it. My colleagues carried on and were nursing hangovers the next day. I felt surprisingly rubbish after only 1 pint, but I was able to get up and have my breakfast at the normal time.

I think it really is like my friend, Tim, often jokes: "I'm not an alcoholic, because alcoholics go to meetings". The City runs on that kind of gallows humour. However, I have now started to lose friends and colleagues to alcoholism, and many more are very ill indeed. I don't want to be next.

Could this be my last ever pint? My body and brain wish it was (October 2014)

Tags: #career #london #alcohol #addiction #mentalhealth #banking

This is a story of exploitation...

Bipolar II is risk, not destiny, but I have unwittingly utilised my diagnosed illness in order to achieve things which many can only dream of. There has been a price to pay, which might aptly be summed up as Nick in blue.

For the uninitiated, a chronic illness is something that you will suffer from your whole life, with little hope of a cure or doing anything beyond masking the symptoms. An acute illness is one that presents itself - an episode of an acute illness - but can go away, for days, weeks, months, years or even the rest of your life.

As the Bipolar propaganda proudly purports, many famous 'sufferers' are not really suffering at all in their hypomanic phases, if we consider the following: very few would give up those highs in favour of a normal range of moods, despite the savage depressive episodes which inevitably follow the hugely productive and energy-sapping explosion of activity, which tends to punctuate the cycle.

Why should anyone who is so applauded and revered by bosses, parents, society, for their 'achievements' - measured only on abstract scales such as school and University grades, income and other work-related nonsense such as promotions and job titles - think that they are unwell and seek treatment?

It's very hard to spot a person with Bipolar II in your organisation, your team. When they are hypomanic, they are also productive, but they are disruptive and argumentative. Essentially, they are totally unmanageable and unable to play nicely with plodders. Companies like plodders. Managers like plodders. They make up the numbers nicely and don't give you any surprises.

When your Bipolar II team member becomes depressed, their productivity drops to zero and so do their hours. They will arrive late at work, leave early and generally do very little. However, as a manager, you will be flooded with relief that your team member is now no longer being so disruptive and argumentative, and you will finally see that a hell of a lot of work has been achieved, and happily let the burnt-out wreck turn up and be miserable at their desk.

As a plodder however, you are only waiting for the sleeping beast to re-awaken. It keeps you awake at night. It stresses you out. You only know how to do the thing that you're totally mediocre at, and you absolutely hate change and are unable to deal with it, so the idea of getting away from the source of this stress is unthinkable. You stay and accept round after round of unintended abuse.

Organisations like productivity, and stressed plodders are even less productive than normal plodders, so when they speak up and say that they are tired (from all the lost sleep) and stressed and they can't plod as averagely as they had been plodding before, the management don't tend to be very sympathetic. Often times, it's the poor plodder who gets the shove rather than the primadonna Bipolar II golden boy or girl.

Now, if this sounds Sociopathic, Narcissistic and arrogant, you are mistaken. Our entire pyramid-scheme structure is rather adversarial, and when we set targets for our employees in these fake hierarchies, we do so in the full knowledge that there are more people competing for the next rung on the ladder than there are fake job titles at the next tranche in the pyramid. We are deliberately asking people to squabble with each other over those precious promotions.

The Narcissist believes he or she is special, and deserves special treatment, deserves the status that they have (or better normally!). I personally, always wonder why people are listening to me, why I am the one who seems to be making the decisions or getting the promotion, because I don't do the work that's asked of me, play politics or jump through the hoops and clap like a trained sea lion in a circus, which is what we are told will get us to the top of the tottering tree.

Believe me, I try to fit in as best as I can. I have literally been crying every morning for weeks and months on end, when I am nearly dead with depression, but yet I have to try and comply with somebody else's idea of ideal office hours. Likewise, I try and do what is asked of me by my bosses, but unless you know how to do it at plod pace, you have normally finished your work by lunchtime on Tuesday, and your boss is rather annoyed that he or she now has to give you some more... so you have actually failed to please your boss.

So, there are a few things I have found, which help to give me a little more stability: to cap and floor the moods, so to speak, and not have absolutely bat sh1t crazy hypomania, and dangerously low depression:

• Breakfast : this is absolutely crucial. The stomach is a key part of our circadian rhythm. Digesting that first meal tells your body clock that "this is the time to get up tomorrow". I never used to be a morning person until I started eating breakfast, and now I spring out of bed with no "snooze" button presses at 7am.
• Lunch : I think you can probably see where this is going. Yes, lunch is important, because it breaks the tendency to just work without a break. When a person gets going in a hypomanic phase, they can work for days almost without sleep or breaks
• Dinner : saying to yourself that you need to stop work so that you can eat and digest before winding down for the day is crucial. Eating before 9pm is mandatory, and eating before 8pm is preferred. Otherwise, you find yourself gorging on whatever you can find, just before collapsing after 18 straight hours with no food at all since waking up.
• Wind-down : almost impossible if you don't start early enough, but essential preparation for the next part of being an animal.
• Sleep : not something you always feel like doing. Your intuition can be totally wrong when you are hypomanic, and usually you are way more tired than you realise, even though you don't feel like sleeping and you most definitely can keep on working. You would not even believe how many nights of sleep I have skipped in a row. Sleep is essential for energy, mood and the immune system. You get really sick if you don't have 6 or 7 hours a night, at least. More than 9 is too many... you'll get lethargic, or perhaps you are exhausted and depressed and you don't even realise!

In addition to this, there are some other rules:

• No caffeine : because it's a Dopaminergic and Noradrenalinergic stimulant in the same class of chemicals as amphetamine. It's a potent wakefulness agent in the brain, and will mess you up. "Do stupid sh1t faster and with more energy" is accurate.
  
• No alcohol : because it's a GABA agonist, like Diazepam (Valium) and you will develop a physical dependency on it, requiring it to be able to sleep, especially if you have been drinking coffee. It's the same as mixing uppers & downers as any other kind of drug addict. Did you know you're a junkie? Think about that next time you're looking down your nose at somebody. Alcohol is also hydrophilic, which means that it draws water out of the cells in your body... you are actually less full of life-giving water, when you are full of booze.
• No psychoactive medicines or drugs : the brain and body are homeostatic. That means, they are designed to stay in equilibrium. You don't need to add anything apart from glucose, water and a few vitamin, mineral and amino acid trace amounts, which you can get from proteins. Fatty proteins should give you everything you need (yes, animal fat is good for you in its natural form).

And finally:

• Exercise the brain and the body equally : when the brain is tired and the body isn't, it doesn't have a frigging clue why you are not absolutely whacked out and ready for bed. In our modern sedentary society, where we do little more than scroll through emails and web pages, our brain is a lot more tired than our muscles. This is not natural, and leads to 'brain exhaustion' despite the rest of you being physically dormant.

Of course, this recipe for mood stability is what I aspire to perfect, but it takes practice. I'm still working on keeping the routine, and resisting the temptations of a cold beer or a glass of wine. Giving up tea and coffee was one of the hardest things I have ever done, and I still have my 'methadone' in the form of mint leaves in hot water.

By the way, anyone who tells you sugar is a drug is an idiot. What's next, Oxygen is a drug?

Sex can be addictive, but it's not unhealthy. However, an unsatiated libido is most definitely unhealthy and unnatural (March 2015)

Tags: #career #mentalhealth #bipolar #sex

This is a story of "greedy, lazy, incompetant people who got found out"...

Justice is a funny thing. So is Karma. Things will always catch up with you. "My name is Earl. I'm just trying to be a better person".

I might not particularly agree with the Patriot Act, but I agree with the punchy tagline that was used to sell a lie to the American people, who were still scared and reeling from the biggest terrorist attack on home soil: nothing to hide; nothing to fear

However, I have a job which I need to pay my rent, but someone who isn't me (Earl) was working with a colleague who had his/her contract terminated today. Here are some more words I heard from Earl:

"I had asked to be moved from one scrum team to another due to a difference in style and approach from the way I like to do things, which has always been quite successful for me. However, it's not in my remit to tell other people how to do their job, so I asked if I could work with the a person who seemed to be doing things more in line with my expectations.

There then followed a blissful two days of productivity. The business seemed happy. The product owner/CIO seemed happy. Us developers were overjoyed and we were high-fiving and walking around the office with big grins.

We decided to go out for lunch as a well bonded happy team, at the suggestion of our scrum master. But he/she never showed up. As we sat there at lunch, we all agreed what a great guy/girl he/she was, and that we wanted to support him/her from the inevevitable management pressure that was going to fall on his/her shoulders.

We were surprised that our colleague didn't join us for lunch, especially as it was his/her idea. We had left a note and tried phoning him/her.

Over lunch we discussed how 'damagement' (management) were not really interested in knowing the truth, and in fact didn't want to know it, as it would undermine plausible deniability.

I observed that a couple of people had been asked if they would like to consider other opportunities in light of the increasing and relentless pressure. I wondered whether I might have been guilty myself of precipitating one of the scrum masters' untimely departure. It was almost an open secret that I thought he/she was a micro-managing waste of space.

I had actually been one of the people who was asked to consider other opportunities. I nearly laughed in the face of the person asking me. The irony of it was beyond belief, given this person's dependence on me during the previous weeks. I stood my ground and asked him/her to resign instead.

This kind of brinksmanship must be going on all the time between these equally incompetant fools. Knowing that I was competant, it was not brinksmanship for me. Instead I felt confident that the project and the client needed me more than I needed the contract.

You can't bluff a poker player who is holding the nuts - the very best possible hand available from the cards that have been dealt. It's a simple matter of memorising the odds for all the possible hands, and then your play becomes automatic: you know almost immediately when you should fold.

When we got back from lunch, I went for a pooh. I sat on the toilet, looking at Facebook and taking my time. I was relaxed and enjoying my job again, for the first time in ages, after having been empowered to do my job and make things better.

I came back to my desk, and my team told me he/she was gone. Immediate effect. They had got rid of him/her while we were all at lunch, with that empty chair at the dining table.

We speculated during the afternoon that the reason for termination was a lack of fear. Our departed colleague was rumoured to have no mortgage. He/she was too honest. Too fearless. He/she wanted to do the right thing.

I liked him/her, even though many people didn't, seemingly for intangible reasons, unrelated to whether they could do their job well or not. His/her face didn't fit it seems."

Anyway, I'm not really able or willing to comment, given my position on a sensitive, high-profile project that I can't talk about, and would never talk about, given my professional duty to my client. I will say this though, of the attitude of me and my colleagues. We care very deeply about the needs of our client and customers, and we always put those needs first, often ahead of our families, our health. We are passionate and dedicated, and excel at our jobs, under the most intense pressure and stress.

We are all trying to be the very best we can possibly be. We need to be. The bank is "rotten as shit" as the Department of Justice will attest. $1.9bn fines don't get dished out every day. We are turning it around though. I really like the CIO. I really like my team. I really like my job. I really like trying to save hundreds of thousands of jobs. We don't get to do that in IT very often.

[Picture has been removed by IT Security]

Me in the office, wearing a rugby shirt, looking like I'm having a 'good time' despite having worked far too many 7-day weeks (September 2015)

Tags: #banking #career #london #leadership #agile #scrum #capitalism

This is a story of a ragged trousered philanthropist...

For those who are unfamiliar with Robert Tressell's posthumously published book, it's a story about craftsmen - people with skill and dedication to their trade - who are so passionate about their work, that they virtually work for free.

Are their masters grateful, for the passion and diligence of their employees? No, they just try and exploit them further, asking them to work longer hours and never sharing the wealth that their workforce has generated.

So who is at fault? Well, I think this is a symbiotic relationship, and not master-slave as we would be led to believe by Tressell's rather bitter and overly satirical work of literature. You can't put a price on job satisfaction. As a craftsman, if you have enough money for rent and food, you are generally looking for job satisfaction before extra 000's on your paycheck.

However, what ends up happening is that while fiat currency wealth piles up in the bank accounts of the Industrialists and Capitalists, the real store of wealth is in the brains and muscle memory of the people who built the empire. For every bead of sweat, drop of blood, salty tear that is shed, there is intangible value that becomes locked into that person's experience bank.

The software engineers who built the banking system ARE the banking system, and its store of wealth, especially after Bretton Woods and the abolishment of the gold standard. Before these capital controls were relinquished, the store of wealth was the toil of miners, who had extracted an extremely rare heavy element, created in the supernovae of dying stars, from dark holes in the ground that they had dug, mostly by hand.

Now that I can create money at the stroke of a key, it is unsurprising that it has lost its intrinsic value. Douglas Adams joked about a society of estate agents, whose currency was leaves from trees. Unsurprisingly, this not-so-fictional society had terrible problems with inflation during autumn.

So, we are standing at a crossroads in global banking. We have insisted that our investment banks and insurance companies actually have sufficient collatteral to underwrite the Credit Default Swaps and other securities that they had been busy printing, which reached an aggregate notional value of nearly $60 trillion (i.e. approximately $10,000 for every man woman and child on the planet) despite this figure completely dwarfing the entire value of every company in the world, all the precious metals, all the fiat currency and all the houses and other buildings and land (plus any and all other securities - loans, bonds etc. - you might care to chuck in the bucket).

So that was clearly a ridiculous situation, and as soon as the DTCC had been built and the major counterparties were in the system, the Credit Crunch was allowed to happen so the rich could stay nice and rich. Do you see a poor banker? No.

However, investment banking is just nonsense. The purpose of our banking system should be to grease the wheels of commerce. The most enterprising businessmen, and the most rapidly expanding and profitable companies can grow faster if they are given the capital they need, rather than having to do everything organically... so goes the theory.

What we see instead, is banks lining their pockets at the expense of every man, woman and child on the planet. George Soros famously forced the UK out of the ERM by getting leverage from an investment bank, in order to place massive bets against the Treasury. He is rich, and evey citizen of the UK was commensurately poorer after Black Wednesday. In what version of reality is capitalism working for the greater good of society?

I shan't get into the stride of my tirade, talking about the American dream (which is to be crippled by medical care bills to satisfy the healthcare industry's financial interests) and other bugbears, but I would say that people have been well and truly shafted by bankers and politicians.

There is a silver lining:

If you ask a philanthropist to build you a bank, the wealth can finally flow back to the people (September 2015)

Tags: #banking #career #london #capitalism #computing #apple

This is a story of exploration, at the ragged limit of control...

Promises are easily made, but you have to make good on those promises if you really meant what you said. When I found myself without any money or support to build the startup that would set my conscience straight, for my involvement in the Credit Crunch, and help me back to health & wealth after separation from my wife, I had to think creatively.

I sank every penny I had, plus everything I could borrow from the banks and other commercial lenders (which was a lot... I am extremely creditworthy) into Bitcoin, in August 2013. This turned out to be a rather shrewd investment. Only one friend, Cameron, was wise enough to back me, and I think the return on his capital is likely to have exceeded a lifetime of Governement-backed tax free saving.

Another friend, Will, decided to copy my investment strategy, and had me to manage the purchase and sale of his Bitcoin Miner to maximise his profit. However, he decided to hold and try to run his profits on his Bitcoins, when I was cashing out in December 2013. The losses he sustained from that mark-to-market point, have been pretty eye-watering. Oh well; he's still suckling at the teet of Investment Banking, so he doesn't need the money.

Selling my house, dividing up all my posessions and trying to move what I could to London, as well as divorce paperwork and general breakup unpleasantness, plus having to risk everything just to keep my hopes & dreams alive, was the very last distraction I needed. Doing a startup is hard at the best of times. Moving is stressful. Leaving everything you've built and worked for is heart-wrenching. Doing it when you are unwell... it's enough to finish a person off.

And so, in the first half of 2014 I had to invest in myself. All my profit was re-invested in my health. I parked my dreams of building a social enterprise - a not-for-profit built to salve an aching conscience - built with knowledge gleaned from my obscenely rich masters.

Exactly how rich did I make my masters? Well, software I designed and delivered was responsible for the confirmation of $1,160,000,000,000,000 in Credit Default Swaps contracts in 2008. That's $165,714 for every man, woman and child on the planet. That's f**ked up.

A guy I worked with resigned in moral protest... but he was really just looking after himself: he bought gold at $550 a troy Oz and a chicken farm in New Zealand. I was disturbed by what we were doing, but I'm just a frustrated coder... I knew I could deliver the project for the bank... I didn't know how to say "no".

Scarcity, collatteral, securitisation: the basis for the non-insane version of capitalism (September 2013)

Tags: #startup #career #banking #capitalism #computing #divorce #friends

This is a story of identity, respectfully, on the anniversary of the September 11 attacks on the World Trade Center, New York, USA...

When people ask where I'm from, I'm not sure how to answer the question. My surname is Grant, which is Scottish, but I was born in Aberystwyth, which makes me Welsh. But my Dad was from Yorkshire, so maybe I'm a Yorshireman. However, my Mum was from Lancashire, so maybe I'm Northern. But then again, I grew up in Oxford and Dorset, which are in the Midlands and South. I have lived & worked in London, England most of my career, and this multicultural smelting pot is where I feel most at home.

The short answer is, in my opinion, that we are all global children in the age of jet travel, international journalism and the Internet. I identify most strongly with the American people, who made me feel comfortable with my modern idenity, and the Irish people, who made me feel welcome despite my shortcomings.

As a European, I grew up during a period of IRA bomb scares and bombings. I remember not wanting to drink my milk at primary school because of fallout from Chernobyl. My school was once evacuated due to a bomb threat. My neighbour was working late next door to the Baltic Exchange when it was blown up. During the height of "The Troubles" our family felt scared to visit Northern Ireland, when we were on holiday in the Republic of Ireland. Several friends were nearby when the Brixton and Soho nail bombs went off. I remember being scared of planes carrying nuclear atomic bombs from the USAF bases in Oxfordshire. I remember the Lockerbie bombing and I remember being scared of planes being blown up or crashing while I was in one.

When I started my first Banking job in Canary Wharf in 2000 (age 20) there was no HSBC or Citigroup tower (let alone Barclays, JPMorgan, KPMG, Fitch etc. etc.) - they were just digging the foundations around Canada Square - the glass windows in the offices, that were blown out by an IRA bomb, had only relatively recently been replaced. My first job in The City (Square Mile) of London was in an office, which overlooked the bombed derelict ruin of The Baltic Exchange.

In May 2001 (age 21) I started my first Investment Banking job, quite near the Natwest Tower (now called Tower 42). On May Day the previous 2 years, The City had been engulfed by protestors against the rise and rise of Global Capitalism. During the riots, my office reception had been amongst several that had been compromised by protestors, leaving pinstripe-wearing, briefcase carrying, FT-reading fat cats (if that's how you care to think of these friends and colleagues of mine) barricaded in their offices.

On the 9th September, 2001, I moved to Surrey and was commuting into London for the first time. On the 11th, I remember the unfolding of events precisely and vividly. People crowded around my computer screen, which had been one of the few that had managed to refresh the BBC News Homepage during the surge of Internet traffic following the first tower of the World Trade Center being struck.

We made our way up to the trading floor, where they had TV, and we gasped as the second plane struck, and truth was immediately obvious - that this was a deliberate attack on the World Trade Center - fear spread throughout our office and The City. We believed planes were headed for Tower 42 and 1 Canada Square. We made our way home quietly, afraid, whereupon I had to buy a TV. I remember standing in the shop, just watching the footage over and over, transfixed with horror. We were frightened and saddened for the American people, and for ourselves too. Human suffering defies borders, defies race prejudice, defies class divides.

In early summer 2005, I started working for a U.S. Investment Bank and relocated to the South Coast of the UK. On the 7th of July, London was hit by 4 bombs on public transport. Before I relocated, I could walk to work from Angel to The City, but when my office had been relocated to Canary Wharf in 2003, I used to take the tube every day. On that particular day, one of the bombs detonated when the tube was right underneath where I used to work, in between Liverpool Street and Aldgate East.

I can barely imagine the horror of living, working or having friends and relatives on Manhattan Island on 9/11,  but in the UK the emotional connection spread as fast as the images were transmitted around the globe. On 7/7 there was chaos and confusion. I remember the phone network not being able to cope with the volume of calls and SMS messages, as we all reached out to one another to check we were OK. Nobody knew what was going on.

The images of the towers falling, and the dust cloud engulfing a city, will always be etched in our memories. Despite not being an American or having any direct connection with New York, I hope it does not seem churlish to say that I am symapthetic with the plight of those who were more directly involved in the events of either 9/11 or 7/7, and also have basic human fear and life-preservation instincts, that make me a little more fearful than I would care to admit to a terrorist, on the prospect of working in my 42-floor office with 12,000 souls, even 14 years later.

Somebody took a giant dump outside my office recently, as a non-violent protest about banking ruining the global econonmy, presumably. If somebody is angry enough to drop their trousers and curl one out, right in front of the security guards and CCTV, then I think there is still a large body of people who are pretty unhappy with those 'fat cats', still.

This is not at all about me. This is meant to be a message of sympathy, empathy, respect and common understanding, that we have all shared experiences of terrorism, and they are real and affect us all, in some way.

Condolences to all the families who lost loved ones on this day.

Tags: #london #career #banking #terrorism #capitalism #civildisobedience