Ah, ex-management consultants. Can't live with 'em, can't fire 'em before bonus time. Herewith the possibly fictional tale of an ex-consultant-turned analyst who tried to build a DCF using... his mouse. And per photo left, mice are for pussies. (As told by the fellow analyst who witnessed it and subsequently humuliated him, as young sadistic bankers are wont to do):
I continued to glare at him as I started to “fly around.” My eyeballs burned through his unweathered, 60-hour-a-week-when-he-should-have-done-90 face as I hid and unhid sheets and conditionally formatted and applied validation to cells with triple nested conditional and indirect functions and then culminated by on-the-fly writing a macro that took my data and made it into a Marimekko (and we don’t even use that shit!). I never turned to look at the screen, and my eyes never left his.
“Welcome to PE, bitch,” I growled, crunching the last word like making radio noises. Then, mildly irritated that I had revealed my lame TiVo watching habits but proud of my masterful display, I turned back to my computer.
Shitshow [Leveraged Sellout]