When I was a senior in high school and it became apparent that I will not be allowed to become a theater theorist, a cultural critic, or an art historian, and would have to settle for something more practical like finance or engineering, I went to see my history teacher to pour my frustration on her metaphorical shoulder. And it was just that – a metaphor: I was upset, but I was not going to cry. The roots of the tough Frustrated CFO that I am now were already forming then. No, I was not planning on shedding a tear over it.
I wasn't, but the teacher cried. This hard core, no bullshit lady couldn't stop crying. I made tea, put it in front her, and asked, what made her so upset. She replied that these were tears for my mind. She got me slightly worried, not for my mind, but for hers. What was she implying? That the forced career choice will make me crazy?
When she calmed down, she explained her empirical theory that, regardless of your natural intellectual inclination, your occupation (note the key word – it occupies you!) little by little changes your brain; reshapes it comply with the job requirements. She said, "If you are going to count money and look at numbers 60 hours a week, it will change you forever. Your mind will never be able to respond to a movie, a play, a piece of music or art, the same way it can now."
"It will never happen to me!!!" – that was my answer. And I can proudly say, it didn't. Through MBA, PhD in Economics, and over 20 years in accounting and finance, somehow, I retained my ability of unadulterated absorption of any artistic expression. Don't get me wrong – my profession affected many sides of my personality, and not in a good way, but somehow I retained the sensitivity to the arts. Maybe I subconsciously resisted the alteration of the mind because I was warned? Who knows? But, I am a rare exception. Years of observing other people proved to me that my old history teacher's theory was correct. Life does play tricks with most people's intellect.
A month or so ago I attended a philanthropic event headlined by Andrew Bird. I really love his eclectic music that combines classical technique with rock-n-roll melodic structure and folky stylistics. It always has a tremendous emotional impact on me.
I was there with a group of people, some of them big time art philanthropists, including one hedge-fund guy, who supports many art organizations in NYC and around the country. In his youth he was a follower of the Great French Mime and a member of a street performing group, but then Life called him away to become a multi-millionaire. He never saw Andrew Bird before and after the concert talked to me about him.
The first thing he said was, "What a technical range!" Considering that my heart was just shredded into pieces by the beauty of the performance, I was secretly taken aback by such cold, mechanistic assessment. Then he picked my brain about the artist's career, and I relayed how he was classically trained as a child, but lost all his fancy scholarships as soon as he made a shift to rock. The response was, "I'd say, he's done well for himself, regardless."
And that's how I was reminded about my old history teacher's theory again. Youthful artistic endeavours – that was all in the past. Now, the cold mind of the big-money-maker cannot absorb the emotional outpouring of the musician he just heard! He reacts with "Professional skills! Career achievement!" His mind is twisted towards that train of thought and there is nothing anybody can do about that.
The Frustrated CFO 