It’s 2006 and I’m asking a third-year analyst at one of the bulge-bracket investment banks if they would be interested in a role within the corporate development team of one of my blue-chip clients. After a slight pause, the aspiring Master of the Universe politely suggested that I call him back when he was 40.

By that time he would have made his fortune in investment banking, bought the family home in Holland Park and be looking to spend more time with the kids (and possibly the wife). He wasn't ready to be put out to pasture, and would look ridiculous with a moustache in any case. Moving to a corporate was not à la mode.