It’s 7:50 AM on a Tuesday. Coffee hasn’t kicked in. Inbox open. And there it is — email number twelve this week from a student who wants to “cut their teeth” in markets and wants me to know, with full confidence, that I “probably don’t get many of these emails.”
Bro. Bro. I got this exact email yesterday. I got it the day before that. I have a folder — an actual folder — that I’ve started mentally calling “Teeth,” because apparently everyone in finance wants to cut theirs and my inbox is where they come to do it.
The worst part? Every single one of them is convinced theirs is the one that stands out.
What’s Actually Happening Here
This isn’t a story about lazy students. Most of these candidates are smart, motivated, and genuinely interested in finance. This is a story about what happens when a lot of smart, motivated people all use the same tool, with the same prompt, and zero critical thinking applied afterward.
The prompt is something like: “Write me a professional cold outreach email for an investment banking internship.”
And ChatGPT — helpful, confident, and completely unaware that it’s writing the same email for 10,000 people simultaneously — delivers. Every time. Like clockwork.
The Six Emails Currently Living in My “Teeth” Folder
#1 — The “Cut My Teeth” Special
“Finance has been a lifelong passion of mine, and the markets side is where I want to cut my teeth. [Firm] looks like a brilliant place to do that. You probably don’t get many of these emails…”
You are twenty-one. Your lifelong passion for finance began approximately when you declared your major. And I got this exact email yesterday.
#2 — The Unsolicited Rescue
“Not after a typical formal scheme — more like taking the pressure off in manual areas to allow you to close more deals. I’m eager to hit the ground running. Happy to send over my CV if that’d be helpful. Available September 2025 – August 2027.”
I was unaware I was drowning. Thank you for the sixteen-month rescue window. Truly.
#3 — The Skill Soup
“I have a strong foundation in financial modelling and valuation. I’m proficient in Excel, Python, and SQL, and I thrive in fast-paced, high-pressure environments. I’m a quick learner with a strong attention to detail. I’d love to add value to a firm like [Firm].”
Ad hoc tasks. Listed as a skill. On a professional outreach email. To a banker. We have to talk about this.
#4 — The Humble Brag Paradox
“I know you’re incredibly busy so I won’t take up too much of your time. [400 words follow]. I would love to pick your brain and learn from your journey. Even a 15-minute call would be incredibly valuable to me.”
Not brief. Not even remotely brief. Also — nobody wants their brain picked. It is an unsettling image. Please stop asking.
#5 — The Flattery-to-Ask Pipeline
“I came across your profile and was immediately inspired. I’m deeply fascinated by the intersection of finance and strategy, and your career path is something I find genuinely inspiring. I believe I would be a strong cultural fit and bring a unique perspective to the table. I look forward to hopefully connecting.”
The perspective is not unique. The email is evidence. And “hopefully connecting” — in a cold email you sent on purpose — is the linguistic equivalent of a firm handshake with a limp wrist. Commit or don’t send.
#6 — The Pre-Emptive Apology
“I know this is a long shot and I completely understand if you’re too busy to respond. I’m not looking for anything formal — just a conversation. I’m looking to break into the industry and would be grateful for any advice. Please don’t hesitate to reach out.”
You emailed me. I am not the one who needs encouragement to initiate contact here. Also — you apologized for existing in the opening line. That is not a networking strategy.
The Phrase Hall of Shame
Together these six emails share a vocabulary that no actual human being has ever used in casual conversation. Nobody says “I thrive in fast-paced environments” to another person’s face. Nobody announces unprompted that they are “a quick learner with strong attention to detail.” These phrases exist in exactly one habitat: the AI-generated professional email. They are the fingerprints. And once you’ve seen them, you cannot unsee them.
A quick field guide to the most wanted offenders: “cut my teeth,” “lifelong passion,” “pick your brain,” “unique perspective,” “strong cultural fit,” “hit the ground running,” “add value,” “please don’t hesitate to reach out,” and the always devastating “I look forward to hopefully connecting.”
Hopefully. Tattooed somewhere on every AI networking email ever written.
AI Is a Tool. Act Like It.
Here’s where I’m going to defend the thing I just spent eight hundred words making fun of, because it genuinely deserves defending.
AI is excellent at networking — when used by someone who actually thinks first. It can tighten a rambling email into something crisp. It can flag when your tone is off. It can help you research a firm, structure your thoughts, and catch the typo in the subject line that would have haunted you for years. That is real, legitimate value and you should absolutely be using it for exactly that.
What it cannot do is care on your behalf. It cannot notice the specific deal a firm closed last month that genuinely excited you. It cannot replicate the curiosity that makes a stranger want to respond. It cannot make you sound like a human being if you haven’t given it any human being to work with.
The candidates who get responses — the ones who actually land the coffee chat — aren’t the ones with the most polished template. They’re the ones whose email makes the reader think: huh, this person actually did their homework. Five sentences. One specific, recent, real observation about the firm. One small, concrete ask. Signed off like a person who exists.
That’s it. That is the entire secret.
The Bottom Line
AI didn’t kill the investment banking cold email. Laziness did. AI just gave laziness a spell-checker, a confident tone, and the phrase “cut my teeth” on infinite repeat.
If you’re a student reading this: before you send your next outreach, ask yourself one honest question — does this email sound like me, or does it sound like the forty-seven other people who Googled “investment banking networking email template” this morning?
Because I promise you, from the other side of the inbox: we can tell. We have folders. We have taxonomies. We have seen every permutation of “I’m deeply fascinated by the intersection of finance and strategy” that has ever been generated by a large language model.
We are all very, very tired of the teeth.
Use the tools. Use them well. Just remember that the tool doesn’t know you — and the whole point of a networking email is to make someone else want to.
Received one of these lately? Sent one? The comment section is a judgment-free zone. Teeth welcome.