Hi, I’m Jake. I’m a first-year private equity analyst at Blackstone in New York.
After two years in investment banking (read: glorified spreadsheet janitor), I made the jump to the buyside — where I was promised better hours, deeper thinking, and free snacks. So far, the snacks part has been the most consistent.

What do I actually do all day? I build models, track KPIs, create diligence trackers, and obsess over footnotes in IC Memos. I support associates, get looped in on half of everything, and spend a decent chunk of my time translating vague feedback into clean PowerPoint slides.

I log on around 8:30 AM, fire up Outlook, and scan through 20+ emails. Most are from the associate with subject lines like “For your review,” “Need quick input,” or the dreaded “Can you take first crack?”

I check the data room for a live deal we're working on — a regional services business based in the Midwest.
We’ve been trying to get clean historicals from them for a week. The CFO finally responded overnight, but of course, I’m not the one who gets the email. The associate forwards it to me with:

“Can you sanity-check these numbers? They feel off.”

Translation: rebuild half the model from scratch before 10:30.

By 9:45 AM, I’ve flagged five inconsistencies, color-coded everything, and dropped comments into the working file. The associate messages me “Perfect. I’ll bring it up with the VP.” That’s the PE equivalent of a high-five.

We’re also in the early stages of evaluating a new opportunity, so I get looped into building the buyer universe and initial market overview. The associate gives high-level guidance like “Let’s keep it focused but not too niche,” which somehow means “Pull 35 comps, but only include 8.”

At 11:00 AM, I sit in on a diligence call with our third-party commercial advisor. I don’t speak — just listen, take notes, and try to look like I understand the industry’s revenue drivers. The partner asks, “What’s churn like in this space?” The consultant says, “It’s nuanced.”
Great. I jot down “Churn = unclear. Follow up.”

Lunch is technically at 12:30 PM, but I eat a cold wrap while drafting bullet points for the competitive landscape.
I try to avoid obvious phrases like “highly fragmented” and “tailwinds.” I fail. We all do.

This is when the real work starts. The associate shares a slide deck labeled “V6_Final_ish” and asks me to clean up formatting, update public comps, and plug in some revised projections from the model we tweaked this morning.

By 4:00 PM, I’ve rebuilt two bridge slides, re-exported six charts from Excel, and adjusted the footnotes to match a new set of EBITDA adjustments. The associate swings by my desk and says,

“Let’s run it by the VP before we send it upstairs.”

I nod, grateful I don’t have to take that call.

At 5:30 PM, the VP sends comments like “Can we tighten slide 3?” and “Feels like we’re burying the growth story.”
I look at the associate. He looks at me. We both open a new PowerPoint.

At 8:00 PM, I’m working on the revised version of the IC memo. The associate rewrites the first two pages while I fine-tune the formatting and recheck model outputs. I also start compiling a market benchmarking appendix the partner might or might not ask for — just in case.

At 9:30 PM, I send over the deck and get the go-ahead to send it to the VP. Ten minutes later, we get feedback:

“Looks good. Add two more case studies and make the margin profile more prominent.”

Translation: another hour of edits.

At 11:45 PM, I send the final-final draft. The associate replies “Nicely done” and logs off. I sit there for another 15 minutes checking version history, naming everything properly, and syncing the shared folder — just to be safe.

By 12:15 AM, I close my laptop and call it a day. I may not be in the spotlight, but I’m helping move a deal forward, one slide and spreadsheet at a time. That’s what being a PE analyst is all about — supporting the team, staying sharp, and knowing your job is to always be two steps ahead of the next request.