My Old Life as a Trader

Being a trader wasn’t just a job—it was a relentless pursuit of opportunity, a constant calculation of risk and reward, and at times, a lifestyle that bordered on obsession. In the world of petrochemicals, where prices are as volatile as the products themselves, the mission was simple on paper: buy low, sell high. But getting there? That took hustle, instinct, and a whole lot of caffeine.

My mornings used to start before sunrise. The first thing I’d check wasn’t the weather or my messages—it was the news. Refinery hiccups, shipping delays, or even a storm forming halfway across the world could change everything. A new regulation in China, and suddenly the whole market was in a frenzy. Information isn’t just power—it’s profit.

And then there was the thrill. There’s nothing quite like the rush of negotiating a deal over dinner in a dimly lit restaurant, the clink of glasses masking the tension. These meetings were a dance—a blend of charm, strategy, and gut instinct. I’ve watched seasoned traders lock in million-dollar deals between bites of sushi, never once breaking composure. I’ve done it too, feeling the surge of satisfaction when I secured a large volume at a discount, knowing the market would shift upward within days.

It’s not just about the transactions. Sure, contracts mattered, but relationships got things done. Trust is currency. Some of our best deals happened over long dinners or late-night drinks with other traders who spoke the same high-pressure language. We talked shop, shared stories, laughed about price spikes and shipping nightmares, and slowly built the kind of trust that doesn’t come from pretence.

Of course, it wasn’t always glamorous. The pressure was nonstop. I’d be on three calls, checking price updates, and editing spot contracts—all at once. Some days felt like a sprint from morning to midnight. Downtime was rare, and even weekends were fair game if news broke or prices spiked.

Yet, for all the chaos, I thrived on it. I liked being the first to spot a shift, the one who caught a headline that others missed. Getting the timing right on a buy or sell—it felt like hitting the jackpot. There was this quiet pride in knowing that a few smart calls could move real product across oceans, fuel factories, and shift balance sheets.

Trading petrochemicals taught me strategy, stamina, and how to trust my gut. It was tough and exhausting, but incredibly rewarding. I may have stepped away from that world, but part of me still gets a little jolt of excitement when I overhear a conversation on Brent crude or scroll past a market update on energy prices.

Because once you’ve lived in a world where seconds matter and instinct is everything, you don’t just return to the ordinary—you carry the pace with you.