Banks, at least, are making money from a turbulent world

WORKING on a trading desk is perhaps the closest an office job can get to a sport. Focus and reflexes matter. On the other side of every trill of the phone or ding from a computer is a client who wants to trade. If ignored, they will hang up and call a competitor. Everyone is sweating, owing to the heat wafting up from stacks of computers whirring at capacity.

On a busy day, it is impossible to leave the desk – making the job a feat of endurance. Just as sports teams use code to communicate their tactics, so do traders: “cable, a yard, mine, Geneva” translates to “Brevan Howard, a hedge fund, is buying £1 billion and selling dollars”. Mistakes cause swearing, shouting and sometimes the smashing of equipment.

Or at least that is how it was a couple of decades ago, in the good old days. Following the global financial crisis of 2007-09, life sapped from the trading floor. Stringent new rules curbed profits. High-frequency traders ate banks’ lunches, especially in stock markets. For its part, the global economy was in a stupor, having been tranquillised by low interest rates. Markets moved linearly, with equities drifting up and bond yields slipping down. There were fireworks – the Brexit vote or the election of Donald Trump – but they were rare. This placid world provided investors with little reason to trade in and out of positions. Revenues were slim; returns sagged. Drama on trading floors featured layoffs, rather than market moves.