The 800-word directive, reviewed by Reuters, explicitly targets first-year investment banking analysts who have reportedly established a coordinated feeding schedule for the hairless, dog-like predator. According to the memo, leaving offerings of goat blood, raw wagyu, or leftover catering from client meetings near the industrial espresso machines violates Section 11 of the employee handbook, which strictly prohibits the harboring of unsubstantiated folkloric entities on company premises.
Human resources emphasized that while the firm encourages team-building, accommodating a nocturnal, spine-ridged beast that drains the life force of its prey is incompatible with current return-to-office mandates. Management noted a sharp increase in damaged Herman Miller ergonomic chairs, which the creature uses to sharpen its claws during the mid-morning market open, as well as a severe depletion of the pantry's refrigerated oat milk supply.
While we understand that junior staff have formed a trauma-bond with the entity during 100-hour workweeks, unauthorized blood-letting in the communal kitchen is not aligned with our corporate culture.
The cryptid first appeared in the Manhattan headquarters during the bank’s third-quarter earnings push, reportedly entering through the ventilation system before nesting in a storage closet reserved for unused standing desks. Analysts initially mistook the sulfur-smelling beast for a managing director returning from a red-eye flight, leading several associates to offer it fresh coffee and bagels. Once its true nature was discovered, employees began quietly diverting resources from the firm’s weekly happy hours to keep the predator satiated and away from the primary trading floor.
The firm's internal auditing division flagged the creature's presence after noticing a $45,000 monthly discrepancy in the corporate catering budget, primarily consisting of prime rib and live poultry deliveries routed directly to the asset management division. Furthermore, facilities management has logged over 40 separate work orders this month to repair ceiling tiles displaced by the chupacabra when it stalks compliance officers from above.
Regulatory scrutiny has also begun to mount around the creature's unsupervised access to sensitive information. The Securities and Exchange Commission declined to comment Tuesday on whether the beast's habit of chewing on confidential merger documents constitutes a record-keeping violation under federal law, though agency insiders confirmed they are monitoring the situation to ensure the chupacabra does not act on non-public material.
Chief Executive Officer David Solomon briefly addressed the distraction during a broader town hall on operational efficiency last week. Without naming the beast directly, Solomon reminded staff that the office is a place for generating shareholder value, not for conducting amateur cryptozoology, and suggested that employees seeking regular interaction with apex predators should consider a transfer to the distressed debt desk.
Goldman’s strict prohibition on mythological beasts stands in stark contrast to broader industry practices, as Wall Street rivals increasingly adopt flexible approaches to paranormal workplace hazards. JPMorgan Chase currently operates a trap-and-release program for the gargoyles that occasionally roost on its Madison Avenue ledges, while Morgan Stanley recently integrated a shrieking banshee into its fixed-income trading floor to serve as an early-warning system for credit defaults.
Despite the official warning, resistance is already mounting among the bank’s lowest-ranking employees. A leaked message from an internal Slack channel titled #pantry-dog-logistics revealed that several junior bankers plan to continue feeding the creature, arguing that its occasional hostile screeching is significantly less stressful than receiving weekend email assignments from senior partners.
The human resources department concluded Tuesday's memo with a final ultimatum for the coming fiscal quarter. Any employee found leaving organic matter near the creature’s nest, or attempting to expense livestock under the guise of client entertainment, will have the cost of the offerings deducted directly from their year-end bonus pool.