A sketch of the typical LSE student
* Sound of glass hitting the table and liquid sloshing around *
Has it ever occurred to you that most LSE students take themselves a little too seriously? From the day we set foot in our first class, we have an insatiable craving to prove to the world that we are the ambassadors/prime ministers/hedge fund managers of tomorrow . This is not atypical of a school of good standing (ranking of 50-something aside), where most students enter touting impressive leadership roles and multiple A-grades in 6th form. Add, however, the sting of an Oxbridge rejection and you have created for yourself the perfect specimen of human capital; one that is not only talented but also driven by a bruised ego to prove to the world that it is the best.
We then go through our 60 weeks of term in a flash, lost in a haze of conferences / committee meetings / attending UGMs / running a business / internship hunts / job searches, and possibly the occasional hour or so of studying; consistently worried about whether we will reach our goals and how good our CV will look when it is plopped in front of that most powerful of people – the graduate recruiter. In pursuit of the perfect job application the average LSE student has developed the inimitable ability to refuse most forms of self-indulgence. Drugs are largely frowned upon in the School, and we’ve all read previous Beaver articles on the abysmal sexual track-record we as a school have managed to accrue (huzzah!). But it’s all worth it for the future money and power, right?
Wrong. What we as a school have forgotten in our collective state of dementia is that indulgence sans obsession as a student has very little correlation to future success. Obama has admitted to experimenting with cocaine, Donald Trump has had multiple girlfriends and wives over his years and the infamous Lewis Ranieri was, if Liar’s Poker was anything to go by, anything but a sage. Hell, Hugh Hefner has made a fortune off being the living embodiment of a hedonistic lifestyle. So what’s the point of denying oneself some good old-fashioned student fun?
The typical LSE student is one that I refer to as the ‘banker’. The ‘banker’ inevitably studies something related to Economics or Accounting and Finance, and most likely takes FM212 as a second year module. Societies of choice generally include the Finance Society, the Investment Society, the Business Society, the Private Equity Society and the Hedge Fund Society (the latter two there to ensure diversity of course).
The ‘banker’ can also often be seen toting around a copy of the Financial Times and the favorite topics of discussion between said ‘banker’ and his acquaintances include markets or the relative prestige-levels of various firms in the city. New words such as ‘upside’, ‘deliverables’ and ‘hedge’ enter the everyday vocabulary of the ‘banker’, as he or she prepares his or herself for those oh-so-important bulge-bracket firm interviews, about which most of the LSE community would mistakenly believe, a single wrong answer is a a one-way ticket to rejection. In fear of this apocalyptic situation the ‘banker’ frequents company presentations and the LSE hallmarks that are “internship panels”; where the wise venerable students of 2nd or 3rd year share their insight and advice on the application process as they simultaneously bask in the glory accredited to those at the LSE who are training to be “masters of the universe”. Academically the modus operandi is to do whatever is necessary for a 2:1 and a ‘banker’ will therefore take the ‘”easier” courses available along the way (after all, they are paying fees only for a bulge-bracket job offer). So peculiar is this group of people that even the FT criticized their behavior in a recent article. Blindly faithful to their approach to life and career-driven attitude, however, the ‘banker’ inevitably found some consolation in that article in the existence of similar others in Cambridge (that most social of universities). Other ‘bankers’ may simply view this article as a confirmation that they are on the right path (After all, any publicity is good publicity, right?)
These ‘bankers’ often thinks of themselves as trying to make their way in a world of high-finance and big bonuses, and accept that they are at the bottom of the totem pole. There are those at the LSE, however, who view themselves at the top of a totem pole. These are the UGM frequenters and Houghton Street petitioners commonly known as ‘hacks’.
‘Hacks’ come from a variety of courses and often join societies that they feel accurately represent their political views. ‘Hacks’ are often perceived to suffer from delusions of grandeur and consequently fail to recognize the disenchantment and mass apathy that most students at the LSE feel towards the UGM and their motions. They often view themselves as mini-me versions of key political leaders and while they do perform the noble act of promoting discussion amongst students they often find themselves in wars of political correctness. If any controversial motion happens to be passed at one UGM, it is almost inevitably appealed at the next, and the UGM is promptly swarmed with people who blindly vote to repeal said motion and who will most likely never show up again.
Instead of consistently enacting real reform, ‘hacks’ often waste their time (and our money) on well-meaning but utterly redundant motions such as “I want to eat my kebab in the NAB”. The only significant change enacted in the last two years that most students benefit from is the 24-hour opening of the library. Is it any wonder, therefore, that the all-controversial recent referendum had less than 1,000 voters cast their ballot, a turnout of sub-16%? Some ‘hacks’ maintain, however, that they are real student leaders, and often boast email signatures comprising multiple titles in a desperate attempt to assert that they do matter. In reality, however, ‘hacks’ on Houghton Street are often seen as nuisances or occasionally a great source of entertainment (giant bean can anyone?).
Now I anticipate that plenty of you who take yourselves too seriously are extremely offended by what I’ve said so far and want to point out flaws or hypocrisy in my way of life. Let me save you some time… I was rejected from Trinity College, Cambridge. I also fall hugely within the ‘banker’ description (gasp). I’m studying for a BSc in Econometrics and Mathematical Economics and was for two years running part of the Alternative Investments Conference organizing team. I often read the FT online and discuss markets.
I am also a failed wannabe hack, as a search of last year’s C&S elections will tell you (I lost by a difference the size of Katie Price’s bosom). I otherwise take very little interest in student politics, and ran for C&S largely because I felt it was the most apolitical job in the SU possible; recent events of course tell me I was wrong (what’s new?).
Having said all this I can only assume any rational person will not accuse me of being holier-than-thou or misconstrue my statements as an attempt to change your lives and will instead recognize that these are musings of a second year student, largely based on my past experiences.
Now if you’ll excuse me I’ll get back to my pint.
*picks up glass off table, liquid sloshes around*
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