Bailey at the Office

Bailey at the Office

On the last day of August in 1998 I started working for TD Securities in investment banking. Each year the major investment banks receive hundreds of applications for only a few positions. Landing a job in this industry meant that you accepted a very simple trade-off: You would be paid far more than anyone else of your age or experience but you would also work more hours than anyone else.

I was excited to be amongst the few to actually get a job in investment banking. But being apart from Bailey was another matter. In the beginning, Bailey split time between my parents house and that of my girlfriend (now ex-girlfriend) at the time. Even though I missed hanging out with him, I convinced myself that he was better off having room to run and play.

In late October my father’s company Sun Media was the target of a hostile takeover bid from Torstar. The idea that his company could be taken from him really shook my father. For my entire life Dad had never shown that he was rattled—in any situation—until now. Dad was shaken. I could hear it in his voice when we spoke on the phone and I could see it in his face. My typical jokes and light-hearted attitude didn’t work.

On the Friday after Torstar launched its bid, I picked up Bailey from home and went to visit my Dad at his office. The elevator doors opened on the sixth floor of the Sun Media building and Bailey grabbed his leash from me and went prancing into Dad’s office. For the first time that week Dad smiled. He gave Bailey a big hug and then showed him around the office. For a brief moment on that fall Friday afternoon Torstar’s hostile bid faded to the background and there was happiness.

Bailey was like an elixir for what ailed you. The world of hostile bids and corporate finance meant nothing to Bailey. If you were sad, he somehow knew how to make you happy. If you were sick, he would lie with you until you were better. Being around the people he loved and those who loved him was all that mattered. To those of us blessed with Bailey’s love, there will forever be a hole in our lives.

The world of investment banking was the ultimate meritocracy. If you were responsible for driving revenue to the bank you were handsomely rewarded. By contrast, if you were a drain on the bank, you were summarily dismissed. Over the next year, I was fortunate enough to be in the former category as opposed to the latter. Although I was young and new to the business, I succeeded in developing my own client list. Beyond being well compensated, I learned that the rules weren’t the same for everyone.

That year my relationship with my girlfriend came to an end—and Bailey’s day to day routine would change. Instead of going to the horse stables with my ex, Bailey would be either at my apartment or my parents’ house all day long. I had to find a solution.

On at least two weekdays each week I would go home at lunch to be with Bailey. At 5:00 pm (the end of the workday for most normal people) I would get Bailey and bring him back to the office to burn the midnight oil. On weekends, Bailey would accompany me to the office from morning til night. He was the only dog in TD Centre and people seemed to love and accept him—or so I thought.

One day I was called in to speak to TD’s Human Resources representative on our floor, Jim Ruyter. Jim was a good and rather timid individual. “Rob, you know we all love Bailey,” he started, “but this is a bank and there have been a few complaints that this is not a place for dogs.” I knew he was right but I didn’t care. My blood was boiling. I took the whole thing very personally. “Jim,” I said, “This is a good job but its not that fucking good. If I can’t have Bailey here, I fucking quit.” Jim was shocked. He stuttered and stammered for a few moments before urging me not to do anything rash. “Give me an hour,” he said.

I went back to my desk absolutely furious. About an hour went by and an email from Jim popped up in my inbox. “What a spineless jerk.” I thought. “He didn’t have the guts to say what he had to say to my face.” I opened to the email trying to calm myself from totally losing it. The email stated:

Rob-

Don’t worry. Bailey is now approved to be on this floor of TD Centre.

Regards,

Jim

I sat there stunned. I don’t need to be told that I was wrong and Jim and the bank were right. I knew it then and I know it now. To this day, I still don’t know what I was thinking by speaking to Jim in that way. I just figured that Bailey and I were a package deal—if the bank wanted me then they got him too. If not, someone else would like the package deal and we’d move on.

Bailey wasn’t even two years old and we had broken the rules at an airline, a university and a major bank. There would be several more battles ahead but we were ready for all of them. As time went by, people stopped referring to me as just Rob—it was always “Rob and Bailey”. Yes, we really were a package deal.