by Sofia S. 09 Aug, 2017

Today, 9th of August 2017, marks ten years since the beginning of the financial crisis which had devastating effects in the life of thousands and thousands of people around the world and filled the pockets (even more) of a few privileged people.

Back in 2007 I was about to become a freshman at University as classes were about to start in a few weeks’ time. I was 23 years old, determined to give my absolute best, focused and motivated.

I went to University a bit later than most people do but life happened that way for me and that’s fine. What matters is that despite all the adversity, I went and I graduated.

In July 2007 I was partying hard in Ibiza with three of my friends and we had the best time together. Memories I will cherish forever. 

However, I don’t recall having heard anything about a financial crisis, all I knew was something about a Wall Street crash back in 1920-something and obviously, that subject was completely outside of my radar. Investments? Banks? Nah. Not a subject for me. It wasn't until Lehman Brothers collapsed that I remember the general panic and that things really started to look bad. Or maybe I was just not paying attention before.

I completed High School with a Diploma in Pottery and Ceramics. At University, studied Marketing, Advertising and PR because at 23 years old I finally decided I wanted to be a copywriter.

I wanted to be the person that writes ads and creates content; I wanted to surrender myself to my artistic vein, to allow for my creativity to fully blossom and develop. I had come to the conclusion that my path was an artistic one and it was time to embrace my future. I had it all figured out. Even when I got pregnant with my daughter during the second semester at Uni, I carried on.

I took a gap year (school year of 2008/2009) because birth was scheduled for December so I couldn’t attend the January exams relating to courses beginning in September. It was the wise thing to do.

When I returned to Uni for my second year (2009/2010) my motivation was stronger than ever. I now had the cutest tiny little human who would be looking up to me and to everything I’d do, she depended on me and it was my duty to ensure all her needs were taken care of. I started to do everything with her in mind and solely having her best interests at heart. And that’s when things changed.

Things were not good at home and that’s as far as I will go in relation to exposing that part of my life. The only thing I’ll say is this: the worst things got, the stronger my motivation to succeed would get.

As part of my course, I needed to attend a Business class. It was only one semester but that Professor gave us two separate classes so in some ways they were linked. For the sake of simplicity, let’s say I had two business classes the same semester.

A few lessons into the class and I felt like I had seen God. What on Earth had I been doing studying arts all my life because that was so not the right path for me.

I landed a job at a Bank shortly after that and from there on, I became determined to learn as much as I could on my own because switching courses to Business or Economics was not an option. I didn’t had the funds and didn’t want to feel like I’ve wasted two years of my life. Especially when I had to take into consideration that I went to Uni later than usual.

I did countless online courses on platforms like Coursera and some of them were so daunting and full of jargon – not to mention the fact they were all in English – so I actually had to repeat a few of them until I could grasp what they were on about.

I started reading the Financial Times so I could understand what was happening in the financial world. I took advantage of a few colleagues that were much more knowledgeable than me to ask questions and learn from them. I became an avid reader of a Portuguese Business newspaper and slowly things started to fall into place and words I had no idea what they meant before, I now recognized and understand them.

I did all of this while looking after a new born, whilst working and whilst attending University. Talk about will power. Looking back, I have no idea where I got the strength from but I did it nonetheless.

I have been working in this industry for nearly 10 years now. I have seen people come and people go. I am blessed to be able to work in an industry that I genuinely love. There is not a single day that goes like the previous one. Everything changes at an incredible pace and if you stop, you become obsolete.

Ten years on since the beginning of the financial crisis, have we learned anything?

I hope so. I see firms committed to give the example from the top; there is more regulation; there is more awareness.

Do I believe that it will happen again? Unfortunately yes but maybe not as the ones we’ve seen before. The financial services industry business is the money business and the goal is to make even more money using someone else’s money. It’s called an “investment” and it can go right or wrong. You risk what you can afford to lose.

The problem with that statement is that the majority of people that cannot afford to lose are usually the ones that end up losing everything even though they have never placed a penny in an investment.

It starts with a family member losing its job. Then, one bill gets left behind, then another and by the time you realise you’re receiving a letter from the Bank saying you’re facing your home is being repossessed.

It’s scary to witness how the financial crisis has long been forgotten by the industry and yet it’s the complete opposite for consumers. People  that ten years on, on a daily basis still worry about a new potential crash and what effect will it have – again – on their families and how will they cope.

It’s a cruel business the money business so I guess it’s totally legitimate for people to ask me why am I in it? How can I associate myself with such practices? The answer is simple. I genuinely believe I can make a difference. No matter how small. I believe in fairness and in righteousness. I believe in doing the right thing so I don’t mind being associated with such industry because if more of us believe in the same thing as me, maybe one day, thinking about a financial crisis where people are left to starve and homeless for no fault of their own will sound surreal and impossible.  

Thankfully, I know I'm not alone in this. I have met so many great people, so many professionals that are a tribute to this industry and profession.

I act in a way I know I will never have to bow my head in shame and in a way that it won’t disappoint my family and have their values judged by others due to my actions. I will never act in a way that will make Diana ashamed of being my daughter. I will always do what my heart tells me is the right thing to do. 

One can dream and, so far, all my dreams have come true.

Like I said. Motivation.


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O lado triste de quando emigras e ninguém te diz

  • by Sofia S.
  • 12 Sep, 2016
Quando és inicialmente confrontado com a ideia de emigrar, das duas uma: ou sabes que é temporário e que eventualmente voltas para o teu País ou então vais com a ideia de “vamos ver no que dá”, sabendo perfeitamente que a possibilidade de te instalares permanentemente no estrangeiro é real.

A forma como estas duas possibilidades são abordadas tem um grande peso na forma como te relacionas com os teus amigos. Não digo família, porque tradicionalmente nós Portugueses somos bastante chegados à família e isto não acontece.

No meu caso, emigrei com a segunda ideia mencionada acima. Vim para Inglaterra sabendo perfeitamente que a ideia de regressar a Portugal era bastante diminuta. No inicio foi complicado, admito. As saudades de casa e da comida custavam mas acima de tudo fazia-me falta o conforto psicológico que é saber que estava na minha zona de conforto.

Perdi tudo isso a partir do momento em que o avião descolou. Deixei de pertencer a Portugal mas na verdade também não pertencia a Inglaterra. Fiquei quase como órfã e não consigo evitar sentir-me assim mesmo que pouca gente o compreenda.

A realidade inicial era que os meus amigos metiam posts no meu Facebook, comentavam as minhas fotos a dizer que tinham saudades e para eu voltar; quando eu ia a Lisboa faziam questão de me ver e as conversas mantinham-se inalteradas.

Depois, sem eu perceber muito bem como, tudo isso mudou. Os comentários nas fotos passaram a ser apenas um Like ocasional, as mensagens passaram a ser recebidas com semanas de intervalo.

Quando emigras apercebes-te que começas a perder aniversários, baby showers e nascimentos mas vês tudo isso acontecer através do écran de um computador. Perdes casamentos porque um convite nunca chegou. Porque naquele momento, a tua amizade já não é importante nem forte o suficiente para festejar um evento que (supostamente) acontece uma vez na vida. É-te dito que foi preciso fazer escolhas e tu manténs a postura mas por dentro ficas na merda porque sabes que se fosse ao contrário, nao haveria sequer escolha possivel sobre a presença de A ou B.

Não passas duma memória distante prestes a desaparecer da mente daqueles em quem tu ainda pensas quase diariamente. Porque afinal, foste tu que te foste embora.

Tu continuas num País que nao é o teu. O teu coração mantém-se em Lisboa e em Lisboa, a vida continua sem ti.

Os teus amigos continuam a fazer jantaradas e almoçaradas, continuam com o dia a dia e com planos para o fim de semana, vida essa da qual tu já nao fazes parte. Continuas a testemunhar as amizades que se mantêm e começas a observar que há pessoas novas nessas fotos que tu não sabes quem é nem nunca ouviste falar.

Quando finalmente, sim FINALMENTE estás de férias e sentes que finalmente vais poder respirar de novo porque estás em casa, fazes de tudo para estar com os teus amigos e mostrar que a amizade se mantem. Tens coisas que queres partilhar e queres saber as novidades. Entristece-te quando eles pouco ou nada tentam porque o diariamente continua e é complicado planear coisas com 3 ou 4 meses de antecedência.

Mas tu precisas desses 3 ou 4 meses meses para conseguires um voo com um preço mais acessível e porque precisas marcar ferias no trabalho. Gostavas de um pouco mais de compreensão mas ao final do dia foste tu que te foste embora.

Vai chegar o dia em que as mensagens que já tão raramente acontecem, vão cessar.

Vai chegar o dia em que vais estar de férias mas tu própria já não vais enviar mensagens de grupo a avisar que estás por perto e que adoravas ver aquelas pessoas que fazem o teu coração ficar quentinho. Porque mais uma rejeição daqueles com quem cresceste vai doer e já custa a dor que sentes diariamente num País que não é teu.

Vai chegar o dia em que tu há muito que és uma memória distante e que vais ter que aceitar a nova realidade em que te encontras.

Vai chegar o dia em que vais ter que aceitar que és de nacionalidade e criação Portuguesa mas que a cada dia que passa começas a ser menos e menos uma emigrante e cada vez te misturas mais com a cultura Britânica. O sotaque já não soa Americano porque aprendeste Inglês a ver filmes; pedes desculpa e obrigada 40 vezes por dia. Sabes que definitivamente algo mudou em ti quando ficas solenemente irritada com a falta de cortesia de algumas pessoas em situações mundanas como a ausência de um acenar de mão quando cedes passagem.

Vai chegar o dia em que aqueles com quem cresceste vão ser uma memória distante porque para atenuar a dor e não largares tudo aquilo que tanto lutaste num País que não é teu, não tens escolha.

E para deixares de te sentir órfão, tens que fazer uma escolha. E a escolha apesar de difícil, e aquela que te vai manter no rumo que escolheste para ti, para a tua vida e para os teus. Se estás no mesmo barco que eu, força! Porque para a frente é que é caminho.
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