by Amadea Hofmann
Illustrated by Noora Belcaid
LSE is known for its rigorous, career-focused finance culture, ranking first globally in feeding students into front-office investment banking jobs. But what makes LSE students so successful in the application process – and what lengths do they go to?
This article began as an exploration of students’ experiences at notoriously abusive investment banks, but it soon became clear that an equally competitive culture exists at LSE that pushes students to extremes.
My first interviewee was a third-year Finance student who did the impossible: he received ten spring week acceptances in the 2020/2021 application cycle. When I started asking questions about LSE finance culture, he stopped me and promised to speak “explicitly” and “honestly”– under the condition that he is made anonymous. I agreed, and so, Jordan* – someone who has excelled at applications and been described as a “big name” within the finance community on campus – revealed the ins-and-outs of the corporate-driven “finance bro” culture at LSE.
Despite actively pursuing a career in investment banking, Jordan admitted that “there is very little genuine interest almost anyone has … in working 15-hour days, formatting and reformatting PowerPoint slides, working underneath often quite aggressive financial managers and senior staff, and working in front of a screen most of the time.”
But the sacrifice is worth it, because to many, “it’s about power, it’s about status, it’s about prestige.”
Jordan described an “inherently toxic … dog-eat-dog culture” at LSE, where “egos are a big, big thing.” When I asked him to elaborate, Jordan revealed that many LSE students cheat their way through the application process. “There are a lot of loopholes, Machiavellian mechanisms, and steps one can take in order to put themselves forward in a way that other people cannot,” Jordan said.
“There was a lot of misplay happening, that was for sure.”
For example, during remote interviews, questions are randomly generated so that students cannot premeditate their answers. However, according to Jordan, LSE students “had created almost a service whereby they were able to exploit the backend code of the HireVue websites [an online interview platform used by companies in the recruiting process] … and students paid for and had access to those questions in advance.” Indeed, another student pointed me to a “career accelerator” company run by former LSE students that offers packages with a database of interview questions, though the company is not transparent about where these questions are sourced from. This same company charges students anywhere from £39 per month to over ten thousand pounds for personalised packages.
Jordan also revealed that there were “large cohorts of people … making networks with certain people [recruiters and higher-up people that grant access through referrals] that allowed them to reach final stages of application processes without having to even apply in the first place.”
I reached out to countless other students pursuing careers in finance in order to investigate how widespread the alleged “misplay” was. Many did not want to be interviewed. Some questioned whether they would truly be kept anonymous; some wanted to speak off-the-record; some refused to reveal anything specific in written correspondence in case it could be traced back to them.
Eventually, a number of students agreed to go on-the-record anonymously. Almost all of the students who spoke to me corroborated Jordan’s account of students cheating their way through application processes. The most widespread practice of “cheating” in the application process seems to be collaborating on aptitude tests. It has become so normalised that many tell me I can find students doing aptitude tests together in public LSE spaces, such as the library or the finance common room in the Marshall Building.
Many also revealed the more intricate ways in which students have gotten ahead.
Some students have “applied to multiple divisions where you’re not able to,” Naomi*, a third-year Management student, said. She alleged that they do this “by putting down fake names.” Others “get someone else to do their test for them [or] hire agencies to do it: CVs, cover letters, tests. They pay a good fortune to just get an interview,” according to Donnie*, a second-year Economics student.
Brad*, a second-year Finance student, spoke about an event he helped host, which featured an associate from a bulge-bracket firm [one of the world’s largest multinational investment banks]. There were over 90 applications for a handful of spots, and a student tried bribing the committee for a spot by offering to trade contacts for a referral.
These cheating allegations are emblematic of the intense culture at LSE — a culture where one’s identity and self-worth are tied to career achievements and accolades, fostering behaviour that goes to extreme lengths.
While investment banking naturally attracts high-achievers and type-A personalities, LSE culture is distinctly unique. Chester*, a third-year Economics student, observed a “huge difference in culture.” Regarding this point, he referred to his friends at UCL, who are members of an investment club: “They help within their club, but outside of it, you’ll be a social outcast … if you bring [spring weeks] up in conversation … at LSE, it’s a casual conversation.”
Chester elaborated by describing his experience as a campus ambassador for one of the bulge-bracket firms. In his role, he learned that campus ambassadors at other universities have to create awareness and branding for the firm, advertising that “opportunities exist” and explaining “what a spring week is.” However, Chester claims that if he tried explaining what a spring week was to an LSE finance student, “they would be like ‘I already know that, like, what the f— are you doing here?’” This observation has been reiterated in many of my interviews; Nicky*, a second year Economic History student, said that “at other universities, if you know about a spring week, you are already ahead of the curve.”
The unparalleled fixation on careers at LSE means that students who were previously unfamiliar with the application process feel the need to catch up with their peers, further feeding into the culture. This was the case for Naomi who, after only learning about spring weeks in her first week at LSE, “did basically take three or four weeks off of uni in first-year and spent all that time focusing on applications.” Donnie remarked that “a good majority of people don’t like the pressure but are in the game. They go with the flow, and the flow here is: keep applying, keep trying to get these career opportunities, cross-compare with those who get better offers.”
Moreover, the career-driven focus has resulted in investment banking offers contributing to LSE students’ identity and status. Naomi ended up receiving an offer at Goldman Sachs and described how she was “sitting in the library and someone came up to [her] and said, ‘Oh, you’re [Naomi], you’re the Goldman girl.”
“People just know you for your career achievements,” she said. “Status does come alongside it.”
This high-pressure culture also has an impact on students’ mental health. Nicky said that the application process for investment banking is “very taxing in terms of preparation, but also just mentally, because when you don’t get it, it’s brutal.” This sentiment was echoed by Kimmie*, a second-year Economics and Economic History student, who said that “it definitely affects self-esteem and self worth, especially when you can receive such a high volume of rejections.”
There are also clear institutional pressures at LSE, which contribute to pressure and stress students feel. “LSE breeds investment bankers,” Kimmie said. “All those LSE career emails, and workshops, and networking events. I feel like the university does … impose that onto you. It’s unavoidable.”
Ambition is not categorically bad, and neither is a career in investment banking. Many interviewees viewed investment banking as a valuable stepping stone to other opportunities, equipping them with training, a network, and experience. However, it becomes problematic when a school — and consequently, culture — presents career achievements as the “be-all, end-all,” pushing students to extreme lengths.
“The message has always been ‘If you feel pressured, come talk to us’”, Donnie explained. “That makes people who didn’t, for example, get a spring week feel like they are some sort of failure … the message should be more about the career side is just one piece of the pie … to showcase that there is a human aspect.” However, the difficulty is that LSE is also catering to the demands of students who want to be made aware of opportunities and appreciate career support.
While the degree of institutional change required is debatable, ultimately, people make culture. LSE finance culture, just like any other aspect of university, is what you make of it and the people you surround yourself with. As Brad rightly points out, “there’s a whole world out there that we haven’t even explored … it’s important to have that perspective and be confident in yourself … and know that not getting something like a spring week does not define your self-worth.” Stepping outside of the finance bubble might be difficult at LSE, but it is not impossible.
*Names in this article have been changed to preserve anonymity.
