Weird statistical blip

I’ve met plenty of randoms on the road thus far: young things bright and dull, earnest folks, Vietnam Vets, lost souls, retirees, ferals, bearded Oklahomans, hippies, wannabes, geography teachers, masseurs, one person NGOs… Startlingly, however, the demographic group that is most highly represented is high-end finance wonks on the lam. By that I mean investment bankers, private equity whizmoids and project financiers aged from about 28 to 35. I’m almost able to pick them out now, twigging always to a giveaway air of efficiency which has to do with pockets and watches and always being able to find a pen. Generally they’ve taken some time off work – between deals, between jobs, before an MBA, or if they’re French, for an année sabbatique – and abandoned the business class lounge in favour of the slightly infra dig dream of fair to middling travel around Asia. They all seem like nice enough people and most are endearingly apologetic when they tell me what they do, shuffling around the point and then shrugging and admitting, yes, I guess I’m going home to go to business school, mmm, I’m working out the finance for infrastructure projects for whatever government. I’m both amused and bemused by the reticence. Is it just me who gets the aw-shucks treatment? Do my glasses make me look more judgmental than your average bear? I am, but that’s beside the point. It’s not like I’m wearing a badge declaring my pinko affiliations (‘those we don’t convert, we eat,’ perhaps) and anyway, I’m not so much in favour of the violent destruction of global capitalism as its reorganisation. They’re safe, in other words. I’m a gentle person operating in mellow mode. We’re all safe. Some of my dearest friends work in finance, I always tell them (it’s true). Then I give them my best sympathetic look and say, they work you people very hard, don’t they. You deserve a holiday. And then we’re friends.