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Example of a real big time big fuck SMU student, stereotypically way too serious and nerdy. I bet you this 4.3er thought his reply was big shit and awesomely cool. We’re SMU students, we’re always serious. I’ve spent the last two weeks writing satirical posts about exaggerated (but extensively true) SMU behaviour and how it embarrasses us when taken out of the school context, and this guy manages to really embarrass the school ten times greater than I have done in two weeks in one single paragraph. What I’ve highlighted in bold is to accentuate the grave serious nature of the comeback. I thought we were supposed to be bright enough to understand satire. Apparently we really only understand gpa, interviews and that there actually might have been a George Kuah in SMU.
To the blogger:
You are a big fake and let me expose your stupid smoke screens.
1) There is no freaking George Kuah in the whole of SMU, much less in Cognitare holding 17 TA and 4 EXCO positions.
2) No Brady Tan Sheng Shiong from SMU ever went to ESADE.
Granted you may be writing under a pen name and have masked your peer’s names with a ridiculous pen name such as Sheng Shiong Supermarket but here are more holes in your story
3) Perfect GPA in SMU is 4.3 and not 4.2. I’m sorry but you’re not that perfect.
4) There were no girls at the Barcap Sales & Trading Interviews. I’m sorry but you’re gender blind.
5) First round of the Barclay’s Sales & Trading interview was a phone interview and the second round was a simulation with 50 guys split into 5 groups.
6) The particular interview you blogged about was never placed on Ontrac applications and can only be applied via the Barclay’s recruitment portal. I’m sorry but you’re not a Sales and Trading Intern at least not at Barcap.
Using MY resume blog scanner, I reckon that you are
1) Some poser from a rival university who has heard tonnes about SMU from those SMU friends of yours and created this blog to stir shit.
2) Non-dean’s lister in SMU who is using this wordpress interface to live out your fantasies as some big-shot who did not even manage to get selected for the Barcap Sales & Trading Interviews
3) Really a big shot SMU student doing a big shot I-Banking internship at a big shot bank and yet have the time to do up satire blogs amidst the late nights and endless socializing.
In order words, there is a 66.67% chance that you’re just some pathetic green-eyed low-life living out a ridiculous online fantasy and a 33.33% chance you’re some big shot slacker in SMU who got bored of pitchbooks, M&A deals, football fields and have decided to go into satire to pass your time. In that case you’re brilliant but you should really get back to work.

I have a month to kill before the start of the semester at the almighty and elite SMU, and I plan put the time to very good use. As a awesome respected high GPA big fuck from SMU, I, George Kuah, can’t be seen not doing anything as it would be damaging to my reputation of being a big fuck in school, although awesome me not doing anything would probably be more productive than those 3.4 GPA act tough act pro wanna be bankers from school sitting in a GSR pretending to study or do work when all they are really doing is refreshing soccernet.com 126 times in 2 hours. I have decided on a list of three big fuck things to focus on in the next month – golf, the ever cool portfolio management and spending time with my girlfriend. Golf, because all big time big fuck bankers and potential big fuck bankers (like me) should play because it’s one of those giant fucking stereotypes that big fucks play golf. Fuck the analytical skills on this one – big fucks play golf. I’m a big fuck (in school, and will be a professional big fuck in a few years), so I play golf. It’s as simple as the fucking “Management of People at Work” course in school. Portfolio management, because anyone who plays computer games are just not serious enough to be a wonder kid in the world of finance. I’m a big fuck in SMU wit high GPA and even higher ambitions, so I’m a wonder kid. And then we come to the girlfriend. What can I say, I like my girlfriend very much. I use the word “like” and not “love” because, as a SMU student who has had to have full focus in order to maintain my perfect GPA in school, I know that the ultimate ambition of being a big time trader or investment banker has to always be my priority, otherwise other SMU big fucks will look down on me, that I’m not on the ball, and I refuse to lose out to my fellow SMU mates at anything. After a few years at SMU I’ve come to realize that what I truly love is myself, I love the feeling of being a big fuck in school, I love the feeling of SMU kids telling other SMU kids how fucking awesome I am at everything I do, I love strutting down the concourse in school when I feel like a big fuck. But I like my girlfriend, she’s a nice girl. When you’re a big fuck in school, you need to complete the look by having a SMU girlfriend, which is easy, considering the fact that I’m so famous (in school). SMU girls, just like guys, chase the GPA, and act cool and act pro, and what to be big fucks as well. So, SMU girls love fellow big fuck SMU guys. I might be not be tall, have flubber coming out of my sides, and a butt ugly face, but SMU girls love me. Why? Because I have a 4.2 GPA, a world famous enthusiasm for class participation, I’ve been TA 17 times, I’m on 4 EXCOs, and I have had a fucking big deal internship. So I might be a piece of doofus trash in reality, but in SMU, I’m a fucking state of the art chick magnet. It’s easy when you are a big fuck in school (unless you’re a certain oily pimply faced Chinese name fella from ASOC who’s rate of retention and acquisition of girls has been in a 7 year downturn and looks like the worst recession since his first cry). That’s why I love it here at SMU. Life is smoother than butter. A big fuck SMU guy with a big time SMU girl. That’s like Bonnie and Clyde of the East Side. Big time. Damn big time. I’m in awe – of my own situation right now.

Everyone should technically love weekends; it’s when the week is over and you say good riddance to bad rubbish and have two days of absolute complete orgasmic rest lazing around, doing hobbies and what pleases you, whilst randomly looking at your files of work slash textbooks on your desk and giving them the middle finger. Everyone should technically love weekends. but being a true blue and white SMU student, I feel a little lost sometimes when these so-called days of rest come around. For one, the markets (with this I mean the stock markets for those of you non SMU people who would think otherwise) are closed, so I can’t sit at the awesome and great Bloomberg terminal which I so frequent in the school library and monitor the general performance of the STI and HSI and manage my fucking big deal portfolio. If you didn’t know, that is my one true ultimate hobby – portfolio management. Portfolio management is the absolute best shit in the world. People think that I’m bullshitting, that I’m just making myself seem more on the ball by saying that my hobby is portfolio management, but fucking hell, what a great fucking way to show the other big shit high profile competition in school that I’m the biggest serious fuck. Everyone knows that I’m the portfolio management guy. Fuck sports and poker and mahjong and clubbing, portfolio management is the fucking king of interests (I know another guy who’s interest is portfolio management in SMU. And although he thinks he has a washboard stomach and a body that looks good in tiny swim trunks, he has a face that looks like a rabies infected rat, not as good a GPA, and honestly, who gives a fuck about water polo in this day and age, a sport that has absolutely no fucking commercial appeal? I’m sorry I had to rant cause he’s probably still more hamsum than my cognitare slide-making ass). In my free time when I’m not in those legendary group project meetings that are always fucking serious and important and that seem to last seven hours each cause the longer it is the cooler it is, and when I’m not mugging for exams that only come two months later, I’m hanging out by the Bloomberg machine in the library, acting like a fucking big time professional trader by typing in random tickers and doing “analysis” with RSI, GP and Bollinger bands or whatever the fuck they’re called. I feel fucking awesome when fellow SMU colleagues, or what I like to call pseudo friends pass me by and stop to smile and “socialize” (just because their face resume scanners said that I was a big shit and that I was fucking important to make friends with), and start talking about the state of the economy and the markets and the STI and all that jazz to prove that they had the knowledge to hang with the best of the fucking best in SMU, and I would have to go over the top with my blue chip mid cap small cap defensive dividend play short sell rap talk that would just leave the other SMU pseudo trader who thinks he had good socializing skills with nothing left to say because he just doesn’t have enough fucking proper financial knowledge to top my big fucking deal talk. Read mother trucker read, its not about the fucking knowledge, its about the analysis (I felt fucking big shit great saying that). Another reason why I don’t particularly like weekends right now is the fact that school is still out for the summer right now, which means that I don’t have big time big deal important projects “with no seriously near deadlines but I pretend that the deadlines are near” right now. Which means that I don’t get to go back to my fucking awesome cosy GSR (Group study rooms) on Saturdays and Sundays and even fucking public holidays (this is the best time to go to school and show that you’re a hard worker) and park myself there the whole day and act cool the whole time. Acting cool in SMU is fucking awesomely important. Fellow SMU students here will not respect you if you don’t have that cool factor. Swagger (which comes fucking naturally with being matriculated into SMU) but no cool factor, means that you’re just fucking average, and no one wants to be even near average – its socially unacceptable in school. There’s a reason why it’s a fucking norm for SMU kids to schedule project meetings on weekends for  projects that are due two months later. Because they want to be fucking cool, because they want to show the other friends slash colleagues from school that they’re fucking big time with a fucking great work ethic, because they feel like fucking Dragonball’s Goku in Super Saiyan mode. Once again, the feeling I get when I’m in school on a Sunday afternoon, and I pass by another random SMU colleague only for the person to stop, say Hi, ask what the hell am I doing in school on a Sunday in a very fake surprised manner, and I get to reply with a random fucking answer with the ultimate connotation of my reply being “yeah, I fucking love school, love this campus and I’m a fucking big time hard worker and that’s why I’m going to be valedictorian” is awesome. That feeling I get is a pure fucking high. Then we go on and continue the conversation with an egotistical battle of who’s fucking busier through descriptions of each person’s tasks, and ultimately, who is the bigger fuck in school. But of course, there’s only one real outcome cause I’m always the bigger fuck in school. People think that SMU kids are all a bunch of phoneys when it comes to being absorbed by investment banking and the like, but I’m the real fucking deal, I’ve got the swagger and I act cool, and I don’t like weekends cause I can’t do hands on portfolio management. SMU’s greatest – fuck I should print a t-shirt for myself. So now I sit here on a slow weekend, my left eye is twitching cause my health is slowly depreciating due to lack of financial work and school work to do – I can’t wait for Monday morning, the best day of the week.

It’s Friday, and this signals the official last day of my big time Barclays Sale and Trading internship. The Head of Department is buying me lunch because she tells me I did good work. Of course I did good work, I’m a SMU student. SMU is big time; the most awesome school through out the whole of this huge huge country. It seems like only yesterday when I was interviewing for this internship. I remember the Human Resource lady shortlisting and allotting candidates interview blocks fifteen minutes apart, and people were kancheong spiders so they came early and a few of us ended up sitting in a meeting room. I surveyed the crowd, and after 20 seconds of my SMU resume face scanner and analysis skills, I had a broad smile on my face like Heath in Batman. The rest of the field sucked; I knew I was golden. There was another SMU girl, and although she had the same perfect 4.2 GPA as me, she wasn’t in any EXCOs, she didn’t visit as many cities as I did whilst on exchange, and she was not from Cognitare. Cognitare is the premier elite CCA in SMU. We in Cognitare train our butts off for Case Competitions. Ok so its not SMU Rugby, but when it comes to the cooler things in life like powerpoint, excel and keynote, we’re the absolute bomb. We make the best fucking slides in the world – super easy to comprehend, and our charts and diagrams will give you an orgasm every time you take a look. Everyone in School knows that we’re absolutely fucking top notch when it comes to presentations, and although some of us have faces that look like the old Indian lady at the junction of Heeren and Cineleisure selling tissues for her need of a pseudo operation, our sharp tailored suits and our presentation skill set still always wows the fucking audience. We’re chic like the Rat Pack; the SMU version – everybody wants to be us. Cognitare provides a smooth journey and transition into banking and consulting’s best; Morgan Stanley, Goldman, BCG and Bain will be lapping our shit up because we are that damn good. Anyway back to the interviewing field that I was a part of. The SMU girl was the nearest competition – just because she was from SMU. The other three were from….where else, NUS and NTU. My brain didn’t even have to analyze this situation. It doesn’t analyze talent from pseudo business schools. It was so apparent. The other SMU girl and I sitting in that room, we had the fucking swagger. And you primarily must have the swagger to even be counted in this new age society of one local university and 3 SIMs. The NTU guy looked like he didn’t even know the idea of “swagger”; let alone spell it properly, and I would have explained it to him but I honestly don’t know if there is a Chinese term for it. The NUS girl was just butt ugly. Way uglier than my fellow SMU big shits from Cognitare. That was just about all I held against her until she whipped out her resume to re- read it through. My eyes went wide. Holy fucking mofo shit. Her resume was three full pages. Three. Complete fucking blasphemy. Don’t they know that big shit banks don’t look past the first page of a resume? Don’t they know that a professional resume should be condensed into just one fucking page? I bet a full page was dedicated to her skill set. Amiable, adaptable, entrepreneur, hard worker, creative, good communications, blah blah blah…things that big fucking shit me could have summed up in two words on my resume. SMU and Cognitare. Fuck, if I were the interviewer, I’d take two milliseconds to look at her resume, and carefully take it out of its file, fold each one up into a paper aeroplane, and throw it right at her runway of a chest. I’d tell you more about the interview, but having taken the Finishing Touch course under Steven Chong(who by the way is a fucking genius of a man, lets not forget his stunning elite model-like figure as well), all my interviews are nothing less than sheer brilliance. So brilliant that the HR lady called me on the same day to tell me that I’ve got the job. No shit Sherlock Holmes, who else could have gotten it? Seriously.

The world is small. Way too small. I was riding down the elevator in the office building where my fucking awesome high paying big shit Barclays Sales and Trading internship is located, when a voice calls out from behind me and calls out my name…”George Kuah”, with the last name too. I couldn’t help but think of how fucking big shot I am in school that people know my full name and can recognize me in a fucking elevator somewhere outside of school. Steam. I turned to see Brady Tan Sheng Siong. Its funny; SMU kids have this ability to see another SMU kid’s resume on his face, which allows us to brand people useful or useless in a matter of seconds – it allows us to assess who is worth our time and who’s not, which increases our productivity and efficiency towards the ultimate goal of being a fucking awesome banker or trader. It’s our ability, cause we’re fucking different, the advertisements were all too fucking true. So I turned and looked at Brady’s face, and immediately I see the words “3.82 GPA, double degree, internship at shittybank M&A, SMUSA EXCO and Co-Captain of SMU Chess Club (Hee hee)” scrolling down his wide forehead. In the matter of lightspeed seconds the information immediately gets analyzed by my fucking awesome Microsoft excel-like brain and the verdict is that this guy is fierce competition for being a big fuck in SMU. We all want to be big fucks in SMU, and when you are one, you must know how to run with the big boys. But the blood in my veins was boiling for some good competition, and this guy might be able to run with big me. But I’m confident that I was the bigger shit, I just had to bowl him over with my beta debt equity float interest rate swaps talk. Brady patted me on the shoulder, asked how I was doing. I told him about my awesome fucking Barcap internship, and he told me that he just came for an interview at my company. Fucking twit, only now then get interview. Noob. What a noob. Brady had the perfect “excuse” for that though. He had just come back from a semester exchange program at ESADE, Barcelona. Now that’s an excuse to me because I too did the previous semester abroad at Bath (A way better program than a fucking ridiculous Spanish Business school in my opinion), and I came back earlier because I knew what my priorities had to be if I wanted to be a fucking big time big money investment banker. We started talking about exchange experiences, and we started talking travelling. Mister big shit brady over here told me that he travelled to 37 different cities, and still managed to complete a five module semester. Amsterdam, Bucharest, Rome, Florence, Copenhagen, Glasgow, London, Manchester, Paris, Nice ……he spewed 35 names non fucking stop. Verbal fucking diahorrea. Fucker just wanted to boast that he had a ball of a time in fucking Europe. When you boast to a big fucking deal, the big fucking deal will just gloat back. I told him I visited 47 different cities during the same amount of time in Europe. By the time I capped off the glorious 47th city name as Ljubljana, he was completely canned. It was like the ending of the 8 mile movie when Eminem fucking rapped the shit out of the New World. It felt like when you put a spoon of waterloo chicken rice in your mouth – pure bliss. Brady just got cream pie-ed in a exchange travel rap face off battle. I’m still the bigger shit from SMU. I smiled and told him I had to run, when really what I was thinking was “take that bitch, fuck off, don’t mess with me”. If you want to be the big shit in SMU you have to be the best at as much as possible. I prided myself on visiting 47 cities in Europe in the span of 6 months. Average useless kids from SMU visit approximately 15 to 20 places when they are on exchange – I’m way ahead. I have a million photos to prove that I was in those 47 places too. Every single photo is on facebook. There were a lot of photos of statues I didn’t know, but they looked important, so I just took photos with myself in front of them first to show that I was there, and then went home and google-d them, so that I can sound more knowledgeable when people ask me what each statue was. Exchange was a fucking good experience. I’m not sure what exactly made it a good experience but with proof that I’ve been to 47 different cities in Europe, I believe that I’m a seasoned and a fucking professional traveler. I’ve fucking seen the world cause I’m an awesome SMU student, and now I blazed the trail for other SMU students who want to be big shits to try and top my 47 cities when they go for their exchange semesters.

It’s almost August, which basically means that my big time internship with Barclays is coming to an end. I’m damn proud of getting the position of sales and trading analyst intern, and I’m even prouder of the fact that I got it via ONTRAC (the SMU internship system), beating out 124 other applicants from school for the job. That tells me that I’m the absolute shit around here. I’m a fucking superstar here in school. And it’s not just any school, its SMU. Fuck I’m good. Oh how I’m going to miss my $8.5k paying internship. It’s big time. I’m big time. The job has been a good experience. More important than the $8.5k monthly salary, is definitely the experience that I got – pricefuckingless. I always tell people that it’s been a great experience and that I’ve learnt a lot. I’m not sure why it’s a great experience to be honest, but I think it is, and I like saying that sentence to the thousands of other SMU students who ask me how my internship has been – It’s the perfect answer to people – it’s a cool answer. After all, how can feeling like I’m the big shit because I’m a banker be anything else but a good experience? I’ll miss the office as well. I mean, I’m here from half past eight in the morning until eleven in the night, from Monday to Friday. That’s a lot of time spent in the office. I can’t recall what I spent most of my time doing, but it has something to do with sales and trading (when fellow students ask me what I do, I just make up a sentence involving the words beta, equity float, regression and dividend yield) and I love the good fucking feeling that flows through my veins when I show up at Wine Bar at half past eleven and I nod my head in confident fashion when my fellow SMU dean’s listers ask if I was working late. I do the same during the school semester, staying late in a Group Study Room and appearing at Wine Bar late and letting everyone know that I work doubly hard on my projects, but damn that good fucking feeling feels so much better when you’re a banker. And now everyone knows that I’m the big shit in school. Word will go around that I interned at Barcap; couple that with my perfect 4.2 GPA, my world famous enthusiasm for class participation and the fact that I’m on 4 different EXCOs puts me in a league of my own. The last thing I’ll miss is Friday lunches whilst on this internship. These aren’t just normal lunches. Working in Raffles Place during the summer holiday months means that there are tons and tons of other SMU students that will want to lunch with you. By the end of the first week, you will have a weekly lunch crew, consisting of the best that SMU has to offer. I mean, the best besides me. So Friday lunches will be the SMU group lunches, where we gather to tell our great fucking stories about how fucking busy we’ve been recently, connecting and name dropping big shit positions like partner, director and head of department, to make us feel even more big shit then we already are (which is quite a lot more, cause we are all already fucking big shit). And of course, being at Barcap Sales and Trading, I’m the biggest piece of superstar shit in the lunch group, and everyone respects me. Being respected by other big shits from SMU really makes my day. SMU is the be all and end all of big shit superstardom, and if I can make it there, I definitely can be the world’s best investment banker in 3 years after graduation and make fucking millions and millions of dollars. It’s such a great fucking school – my name is more known than Howard Hunter’s. And now that semester will be restarting in a few weeks, it’s time to get my semester game face on, cause when it comes to the semester I’m fully focused. I don’t eat, don’t sleep and don’t play. I just memorize equations, use excel to do any math and do football field analysis to  analyze how to build an ice kachang, and carry around a copy of the financial times, pretending to read it, cause big shits aren’t complete without a copy of the financial times tucked underneath their armpits. I’m all ready to step into the class and look at all those less than 3.8 GPA students drop their jaws and fear for their GPA lives when they see me strut my future investment banker ass into class cause they know that I’m going to take away their A+. SMU, because I’m different.