As a man who appreciates great feats of engineering, I have to hand it to the great designer in the sky who created the human body, (that could mean God, Allah, Jehovah, whatever your preference) it truly is an amazing machine.
However, on a recent trip back from Turin sat on an aircraft prior to departure, it occurred to me that there was one huge flaw in the grand design.
As human beings we have the ability to close our mouths, this prevents the ingress of detritus. We have the ability to close our eyes, this prevents irreparable damage being done to our retinas by mediocre saturday night television. We also have the ability to close our anal sphincter, this prevents the internals of our undergarments behind covered in excrement, a handy muscle to have been gifted I'm sure you'll agree.
Alas, after all this great forethought in design, we do not have the ability to close our ears!
Sat as I was on the taxiway, around the mid-point of the aircraft, I had the misfortune to sit within ear shot of two well spoken individuals, who were in the process of acquiring the admiration of a young lady.
As they attempted to woo her the conversation progressed to their occupations, it was at this point I began to wish I had the ability to close my ears.
Both males in question informed the young lady that they were both, "quantitative analysts", to which she immediately responded with, "what does that mean"?
This is the reply I overheard to the aforementioned lady's question.
"Well my dear, as a quantitative analyst it's my job to design complicated mathematical formulas to predict financial risk".
He went on.
"I feel truly lucky to use the knowledge I gleaned at university in my everyday work, my background in mathematics helps me to determine the value of derivatives. Using algorithms I can predict the behaviour of markets and generate huge amounts of revenue from the stock market".
He hadn't finished.
"I can use my skills to invent all kinds of complex financial packages, such as credit default swaps, hedge funds, futures, leverages, the list goes on. But above all of this I can apply mathematical formulas to predict, and very accurately, the behaviour of the markets".
At this point I glanced between the seats to see the young lady looking a little perplexed, but let me tell you she needn't have, it's very simple, allow me to explain.
What the gentleman was trying to say is this.
Everyday I go to work in a big shiny steel and glass structure, it's all official though, because it's called Canary Wharf. Once safely in my office, which is also very shiny, I take out a set of tarot cards. I acquired these cards from a traveling Roma Gypsy, and she assured me they would allow me to predict the future.
At around 10 a.m after I've given them a thorough shuffle I began to lay them out on my big desk, which is also very shiny. It's at this point that I begin to fill in various spreadsheets that people use to buy and sell shares in random companies. These companies are usually a long way away, and this is a good thing, otherwise they could hurt me or my family.
The gentlemen is also trying to say this.
Sometimes when I'm in my shiny building, sat in my shiny office, at my shiny desk, I'm forced to resort to extreme measures to allow me to predict the future.
Once I was sent to Africa on an extravagant, all expenses paid team building exercise. It was at this point that I acquired my secret weapon. I obtained at great expense to my company, a magic set of chicken bones from a Sub-Saharan witch doctor.
When times are tough in my shiny office, I strip off to reveal a moose hide loin cloth. At this point I break in to a mythical, mystical, highly choreographed dance routine, similar in style, but not in rhythm, to the "Macarena".
My secret weapon has never failed to help me reach my quarterly target, this ultimately leads to me getting my annual bonus, which is several times the magnitude of my over inflated salary.
Now I have to admit, telling a girl that your a quantitative analyst is a new one on me. I've heard the usual ones, like a dolphin tamer, a biscuit taster, and even a trainee stuntman. Being in the Royal Air Force, the one I'm more accustomed to is, "I'm a fighter pilot"!
However, my favourite one has to be "I'm a lake leveller".
It's at this point an amorous young lady would ask, "what's a lake leveller"?
To which you would reply, "you know when you go to a lake all the boats are at one side"?
"Yes"
"Well that's because the lake hasn't been levelled yet"!
Anyway enough of all this joviality, as usual there is a serious point to all of this.
What an absolute waste of human talent it is that the most intellectually gifted people in the country, spend their lives furnishing the pockets of those who require no further furnishing.
These men and women who've proved themselves learned, should be developing new forms of propulsion, finding alternative forms energy, developing martian colonies, anything that betters humanity.
Instead they are lured to "The City", to make a quick buck for the few that the stock market actually works for.
Can we blame them, probably not, maybe we'd all do the same given the opportunity.
For myself, the part I have particular loathing for is the message it relays to the next generation, that success is purely a number on a balance sheet.
