In 2014, my tax business was winding down, and during the summer I was getting anxious again.
As these things tend to happen, while randomly talking to a friend, he asked me if I wanted to join his hedge fund as an analyst.
Completely putting aside the fact the position was in Hong Kong, I accepted. And for the next 18 months, I helped them analyze real estate and Korean stocks.
This was my first real job in finance.
When you work in finance, you get spoiled – especially if you’re on the buyside, and you have all sorts of service providers working for you.
Finance draws hard-charging, intelligent, and driven types, and when you have Ivy Leaguers and graduates of Asia/Europe’s top 10 universities as your service providers – your bankers, brokers, traders, accountants, and researchers, well, I’m not sure I’ll ever have that level of service again. Emails were written to me in clear prose. If there was a problem, I received a phone call explanation within seconds. Things got scheduled, presentations were efficient, full of information, and if I asked for anything, things just got done. No one passed the buck, and if they did, it was to actually find the person who could solve the problem, and these problems got solved in hours, if not minutes.
Sigh. Maybe this is the daily reality for many people, but for me it was new. This meant that literally all I had to do was focus on the thing I had been hired to do, which was to stay plugged into the markets, pore through financials and industry reports, think, and analyze.
Never before in my life had I woken up so early, before 6, to catch the bus into Central to start fielding the calls and get work done before the Korean and Japanese markets opened at 8am. Never had I had so much energy as when I was plugged into the information flow and market chatter every day, hearing from analysts, companies, and brokers spanning Tokyo to Mumbai. The financial markets are an arena where the biggest game in the world – the exchange of capital – is played out on a daily basis, against some of the smartest people, with huge sums of money at stake.
And looking back at that time, that’s what I miss the most. There’s no feeling or job quite like working in the financial markets – the pace, the energy. It’s like being plugged into an IV of chatter and information and raw sentiment. You can actually feel, around town, when the markets are up or down.
Now onto the actual job.
Our fund had a value bent, which meant that we were looking for undervalued or overvalued companies to buy or sell. Before joining, I had a romanticized notion that it was all about digging through data and research, coming up with some sort of brilliant, deviant opinion and using that to make money.
There is that. But I learned I was quite naive, because identifying the stock to buy/sell is only a fraction of the job.
Being good at analysis, and picking the right name, is only one leg of the stool. It doesn’t matter if you’re good at analysis if you buy in at the wrong time or sell at the wrong time. It also doesn’t matter if you buy/sell too much or too little of it, or if you can’t or don’t have the conviction to hold during the hard times. Also, since you’re never going to be 100% right, 100% of the time, you have to be constantly evaluating your own decisions, your decision-making process, your own thoughts, in context with the present and history of the market.
In short, not only do you have to be brilliantly analytical, you have to have the instincts of a gambler to size and time the bet, the temperament of a stoic to not let gains or losses affect you, and the introspection of a monk.
Only by getting all four of those things right, can you succeed in the job, and it’s why investing is so hard.
It’s always been my opinion that investing is the best interdisciplinary exercise you could ever conduct, or learn. And one of the biggest reasons is for the last point above.
Constantly evaluating your own thinking and process for making decisions will serve you well not only in investing, but in life in general, and is the foundation for success in general.
At the fund, though, I found myself teetering on the edge of this. If you’re not careful, endless introspection can lead you to have massive self-doubt all the time, and start going down epistemological rabbit holes, like ‘how do I know I know this’, or ‘am I sure that I know this, and with what probability, and how do I know this probability is even correct’.
In my job, I found a lot of parallels to surfing. The financial markets do not have sympathy or other human sentiments, just like the ocean. You can’t fight them, just as you can’t fight or force a wave to do anything. You can only react to what’s given to you. You can’t argue about rightness or wrongness. The markets, and the ocean alike, do not care about you.
Working in the markets is one of the most humility-inducing jobs you can have, and those who get arrogant get crushed.
In many ways, the job gave me an appreciation for knowledge in general. When you can sit in a room with extremely intelligent people discussing a company, and everyone has extremely divergent, completely opposite viewpoints and opinions on the company’s prospects, you begin to see that it’s hard to purport to ‘know’ or declare anything with certitude.
And that states of the world are best expressed in probabilities, and the smartest people are always questioning and changing their minds. They’re comfortable with uncertainty, and don’t let it paralyze them.
I learned a lot on the job, but that might have been the greatest lesson for me.