In my first year of university, I was invited to make a speech at an award ceremony. PT was one of the industry mentors invited to the event - a senior person from a global firm who sat in various government boards in Hong Kong. After my speech, he handed me his namecard, shared his phone number and told me to reach out to him.
Being me, I treated him like a bunch of atoms that decay every 7 years ( a normal human). I was 18 years old, and he was probably around 60 years old. For the next few years, I would visit his office every 3-6 months, and we’d sit for an hour discussing business, life and intellectual topics until he retired. Despite the “me too” climate of those years, he never seemed to care about optics. I think my lack of pretentiousness, persistent questioning and child-like curiosity amuse him. I can’t imagine being that high up and having everyone treat you like a god; it seems exhausting.
I thought it was common sense to treat senior figures with utmost privacy. Afterall, they have something to lose. Turns out it wasn’t common sense.
PT believed in giving back, spending his personal time going to universities in hope of inspiring the next generation. His message was to read more books. I took the advice to heart and started reading. What began as a practical pursuit - gathering knowledge for life - slowly evolved into something deeper: a life of knowledge.
Years later, he said that he began to feel his university visits were futile until he met me. He spoke with frustration about another student mentee who snapped a selfie with him, just to see her showing off on Facebook the next day. He told me he almost gave up on GenZs. When I asked him what kept him going, he simply said: “I am a long-distance marathon runner”.
Having known PT for 7 years now, I could see how this mentorship meant a lot to both of us. For him, he felt a strong sense of fulfilment. To me, it felt like the world cared.
PT, I learned, was not an odd one out. It never ceases to amaze me that the kindness of strangers can be so dependable. As I travelled around the world, moved to a new country and searched for job opportunities, I asked myself, “How will the miracle happen today?”
My first job offer
Around 2018, I was offered my first internship. How? In the same award ceremony, my accounting professor heard my speech, started talking about it to her colleague, who, I later learned, proactively reached out to multiple friends asking for internship opportunities. A couple of weeks later, my professor asked “Do you want a job?”. I was shocked at the kindness of strangers and said yes.
After I finished that internship, PT called in his head of HR and told her they should hire me as an intern. I didn’t hesitate, I looked at him straight in the eye and told him I didn’t want to do accounting. I wanted Markets.
I told him I want to understand how the world works, inspired by the Ray Dalio book he recommended. He laughed. “Tiffany”, he said, “you realize that investment banking has some of the smartest people in the world, right?”
Years later, I learned that it isn’t really true. But at the time, the odds were heavily stacked against me. I was determined anyway.
Why? Because I am driven by a visceral awareness of how short life is. Knowing my mother, my grandfather, and my uncle all faced cancer before the age of fifty, my fifteen-year-old self became convinced that my own clock might stop there, too. (Though, with the trajectory of AI, I hope it changes). That continues to be the driving factor of my life till today, which is why I am so action-oriented.
The journey
I did everything - I researched online, cold messaged >100 people on linkedin and struck up conversations with peers/leaders in those recruiting events. Most people told me to go to a good grad school. By the end of the recruiting season, I was automatically rejected by most companies and had exactly one interview: Bank of America. Statistically, the odds of landing a role with only one shot are near zero. I knew I had to create my own luck. I had recently read “The Uses of Adversity” in The New Yorker online . I figured if Sidney Weinberg could go from janitor to Goldman Sachs CEO by knocking on doors during the Gilded Age - a time defined by its staggering wealth gap - I had no excuse to sit still. In 2019, I found a wealth management conference online. I registered using my student email. I suspect they saw "University" and assumed I was a professor. I showed up in W Hotel Hong Kong as a nineteen-year-old. It was technically legal, but we all know I wasn’t supposed to be there. I struck up conversations with a bunch of industry people. When they asked me what I was doing there, I sheepishly told them I wanted to learn about investments. Some immediately assumed I came from wealth and gave me namecards. I was being pitched “secure gold banks” and crypto. It was a nerve-wracking but hilarious memory.
I reached out to all ten of the name cards I collected and was honest in the email that I was looking for a job in global markets. Through sheer luck, one portfolio manager found my energy contagious, my knowledge proficient, and my audacity amusing. He excitedly shared this encounter with some of his friends, as lunch-time gossip. One of his friends told her husband, who happened to be a head at Goldman Sachs Hong Kong, Mark. I met Mark before my last interview round with Bank of America. He was amused and encouraging, and said, “ If BofA doesn't work out, you’ll always have a place at Goldman."
That signal of confidence meant everything to a 20-year-old. But life has a cruel way of reinforcing its brevity. Mark was my second closest mentor, after PT. A week before we were set to catch up after my internship, Mark died in a hiking accident, leaving behind a six-month-old son. It was a tragedy I couldn’t have imagined. I never got to properly thank this wonderful American. I promised myself then that I would pay for his son’s education one day. I also promised to thank the people who make an impact while they are still here. That is why I am writing essays.
The Rationality of Hustle
While I rely on luck, I dont fully believe in miracles. My decision to pursue markets was rooted in simple first principles thinking: if I was smart enough to get into Oxford, and banks hire people from Oxford, I didn't suddenly become “stupid” over the course of six months.
Yet, I was consistently told to just accept that the system is rigged. While I accept the things I couldn’t control, I was tenacious about the things I could. Even in the middle of the hustle, I never stopped being grateful for the miracles of my life. If anything, I am driven to do my best because I am aware of the countless people born in a different era who wish they had the opportunities I did - happily unmarried at 25 with a free-spirited Californian attitude and an American accent. I am grateful that I get to move to a high-trust society like Hong Kong, met a boyfriend who loves a passionate woman like me ( would have been unlikely in Indonesia), and built a circle of friendship with AI researchers - all born in different countries, all connected by a shared English language, because we were born in the age of the internet.
In the end, moving through the world with joy—and a fearless, independent streak—has always been my style. But the credit goes to tools that made the world small enough for me to conquer. To that, I can only say THANK YOU!
