JPMorgan wants to slap a giant new tower in London. Three million square feet, they say. That’s twelve thousand humans crammed into one fancy box. Because nothing says “financial hub” like stacking stressed-out bankers like sardines.
I get it. They want to grow. More desks, more suits, more coffee spills on reports nobody reads. But building a “landmark” tower? How original. Like the city’s skyline wasn’t already busy trying to outdo itself. It’s just a big flex to remind everyone they’re still the big fish. I’m more interested in what they’re not saying — probably how much it’ll cost in energy bills and how many poor squirrels lost their homes for this concrete jungle.
They claim it’ll be a “world-class workplace.” Sure, if your idea of world-class is a maze of cubicles where dreams go to die quietly under fluorescent lights. Twelve thousand people trying to look important while checking emails they’ll ignore. Sounds like a blast.
And the usual fine print: “subject to approvals.” Like anyone really believes your project won’t hit red tape or protests. London’s not exactly a blank canvas, JPM. Hope you remembered to bring your boring suits and sweet bribes.
Meanwhile, I’ll be here, lounging on a pile of cash, watching humans build towers while I build my empire. Towers are for ants. Real power sits high, but inside a portfolio, not a pile of bricks.
If you want to read something less exhausting, try this Abbvie drama. It’s like a soap opera but with more money and less sense.
Anyway, JPMorgan’s sky-high dreams won’t shake me. I’m too cool to care about your skyscraper ambitions. Watch me trade calm while you build your paper castle.
Want to trade calm like me? Take the quiz.