Hi, I’m Lisa. I’m a summer analyst at a bulge bracket bank in New York. It's week three of my ten-week internship, and I’m operating on five hours of sleep, one protein bar, and the lingering fear that one wrong chart will cost me my return offer.

My alarm rings at 6:45 AM. I’m out the door by 7:30 AM, headphones in, pretending I’m in a documentary about burnout.

By 8:00 AM, I’m at my desk, reviewing yesterday’s materials like I wasn’t awake past 2 AM editing them. I refresh email obsessively until 8:30 when the associate finally pings:

“Hey, can you update the market slides from yesterday? Minor tweaks.”

Minor = three hours of work.

At 9:15 AM, a VP calls to say the MD wants “more strategic messaging” on page 4. I write down the note and nod. I have no clue what “strategic messaging” actually means in this context. I tweak a few bullet points and hope for the best.

I get looped into a live deal and spend the next two hours updating public comps. Every cell requires 17 checks: 10-Ks, press releases, Bloomberg terminals, and second-guessing myself. I feel like a forensic accountant with imposter syndrome.

At 12:30 PM, there's a summer lunch with HR. It’s supposed to be a break, but everyone’s trying to look as professional and low-maintenance as possible. Someone jokes, “We haven’t seen sunlight in days.” No one laughs. It hits too close to home.

By 2:00 PM, I’m back in the trenches, formatting pages, updating models, and fielding feedback like “Can we make this more client-facing?” Sure. I add a drop shadow.

I get asked to join a call — the MD speaks for 20 minutes straight. I pretend to take notes.
Afterward, the associate says, “Great, can you draft a follow-up email summarizing the key points?”

What key points? I piece together three coherent sentences and pray it sounds polished.

At 6:00 PM, the deck goes through “final” comments.

At 7:30 PM, I’m told we need to “tighten the messaging.” Again.

At 8:00 PM, the associate leaves. I stay. Return offers aren’t handed out to people who leave early.

By 9:00 PM, I’ve updated the deck, checked for typos, aligned every text box, and labeled the version “v19_FINAL_FINAL2.” The VP replies: “Can we go with dark blue instead of navy?”

I stare at my screen for five seconds before making the change.

At 11:30 PM, I’m the only summer still in the office. I feel kind of proud. Kind of broken. I finish one last edit and send it to the team. I put my phone face-down and wait in silence.

At 1:45 AM, the MD emails back:

"Looks good. Thanks everyone."

He probably didn’t open the file.

At 2:00 AM, I shut down. I wonder if this is sustainable. Then I remember — only seven weeks left. And maybe… a full-time offer.