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my wibbly road to financial journalism
2009 — 2015
The dream that went wonky
At 15 years old, I had a dream. A big one. Although I was a standard Welsh girl who'd only been to Disneyland on a coach with her nan, I could seriously see myself as a French lawyer.
In hindsight, I took it way too far. By the time I'd finally finished my horrifically difficult French law degree and masters, I was starting to get the feeling that maybe it was not for me after all. The biggest hint came when I failed my masters and ran out of money. Brilliant.
Slightly gutted but endlessly optimistic, I scooped up my pet rabbit Einstein, packed a suitcase and together we headed to Zurich, Switzerland to earn a living. I'd already worked in a gelato shop there before. And my German was quite good, if the conversation was about icecream.
I got a massively lucky break. An entry-level job at the world's largest investment bank! In a surreal twist, I went from being bad at law in French, to being awful at finance in German.
2015 — 2020
REALISING the thing about the money
When you work in finance, ideally you're supposed to know what you're doing. That was my first downfall. So, I signed up to some proper investing exams and worked like hell to pass them. Every lunchtime you could find me in the canteen with a textbook and a scientific calculator looking really confused. And after a while, I did pass them! Yay!
Understanding more about finance and economics was a double-edged sword. It was great to finally follow conversations. But I'd started to register things that felt bad. Oil companies in "green" funds. Owning water companies, which should be for everyone. Buying up our favourite high street stores (Debenhams etc) and dragging them into bankrupcy. I finally understood the credit crunch, and why I'd lost my job in a Borders bookshop back when I was a teenager dreaming of being a French lawyer.
The more I understood my job, the worse time I was having. Plus, there was the whole toxic culture vibe thing. I moved around different banks, getting myself a corporate and institutional banking job in London. But if anything it was even worse. I swapped perverts for psychos. D'oh! To be honest, I would have rather stuck with team pervs. Better the devil you know. Eventually I found a bank I liked, but the CEO made us all redundant. It another subtle sign from the universe that maybe it was time to move on.
Still an optimist, I set up my own firm as a financial writer. It's got the incredibly catchy and fun name of "Hannah Duncan Investment Content Ltd", if you want to check it out.
2020 — NOW
Finding my mission
Luckily, the moment I set up my business Brexit and COVID kicked in. Oh yay. The first year was like climbing a mudslide in the screaming rain - or as we say in Wales, going for a walk. To drum up some clients, I started a blog. I wrote about the stuff I'd noticed during my time in financial services. Dodgey funds, daddy issues, why bankers call spreadsheets "sexy" and other great mysteries. I'd just finished a masters dissertation, "grey areas in green finance", so I was re-purposing that too.
Then something wild happened. A cheeky little email saying that my blog was shortlisted in the headlinemoney financial journalism awards. I was up against the Financial Times' blog, Moral Money. And mate, I ONLY BLOODY WON IT.
That was the start. Five years, three more awards, three powerlists and one husband (not relevant, but still exciting) later, I'm still at it! I've written for some massive publications, and smashed out red hot articles that I'm super proud of.
Recently I've hit upon the link between the USA's dollar and the whole "anti-woke" thing, it blew a hole in my brain. A realisation volcano erupted. So, while I work full-time as a freelance financial journalist, I'm also trying to write this mind-bending book. Gahh. My goal is to make every other line a joke so that readers stay with me until the end. If we can laugh about it together, we can fix it together, right?
So, at 34 years old, this is my new dream. Hopefully less ridiculous than the French lawyer one. It's been a wonky old road, but I hope you'll stick with me on the journey!
three must-know facts
Einstein and the Welsh dragon. Of course.
I got the dragon after a banker told me Wales isn't a "real country". Uhhh... rude. This obviously proves him wrong.
Two Tattoos
Fainted Out Of A Plane
Three words: Charity. Sky. Dive. Woke up hurtling 250 miles per hour to certain death... Not a great Tuesday.
To get to school, I lived in a caravan with my nan for a year! So random, right? It was by Cardiff airport and the whole thing shook constantly from planes.
Cardiff Caravan
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