Patrick Mweheire: Ex-Wall Street banker’s one regrettable selfish act

Like foam, he rose to the top of that food chain over nine years, leaving for London to join Renaissance Capital’s African investment banking unit as the Managing Director.

The bells had been tolling for a while and he soon heeded the call (OK, it took eight years) and moved back home to join Stanbic Bank Uganda as their Chief Executive Officer. “It didn’t matter how long it took,” he said, “but it was always in the back of my mind that I was going to go back home someday.”

He’s currently the Regional Chief Executive of Stanbic Holdings, overseeing seven African countries, to mean he’s the leader of leaders.

Very stable. Privileged, I would say. My dad ran the biggest tea business in Uganda. My mom worked in a bank that, curiously, I ended up running later. (Uganda Commercial Bank). We didn’t lack.

However, my dad always insisted on us spending Christmas in the village. We’d travel 12 hours by road and spend a week in the village, which with its poverty, was a stark contrast to our lives in Kampala. It was a big lesson he was teaching us; getting to connect with family.

It had an impact because I spent 22 years in the US and I went back home for Christmas every year, except the year my son was born.

I think that was also part of the reason I came back home, seeing the challenges here and remembering there was a role for me to play here. It didn’t matter how long it took, it was always in the back of my mind that I would come back home someday.

Your 54th birthday is coming on October 8th. What would you say has been the marked difference between your 40s and 50s?

I returned home in my 40s and transitioned from a Wall Street investment banker to being accepted by the Ugandan corporate community. That came with a bit of a culture shock but there was also plenty of work I had to do.

When I took over Stanbic Uganda, I found out that I needed to do considerable heavy lifting to make sure that the bank remained on top. So, I spent most of my 40s troubleshooting.

My 50s have been shaped by being a leader of leaders, from being a hands-on CEO in Uganda to having six CEOs from different countries reporting to me. It was a very difficult transition to make.  My style of leadership always changes.

In my 40s, if you did not deliver you’d be out of my team. I’ve had to mellow in my 50’s, to try to get the best out of people and show some direction. I’ve also spent more time in my 50s reflecting on giving back.

When I was in the investment banking sector, work was very gruesome, gruelling, and fast-paced. I was a specialist advising companies working for Merrill Lynch – now Bank of America – which was like number two or three in investment and wealth management. There was a lot of speciality and depth in that job and I did it for 15 years.

However, when I transitioned to a career in commercial banking, all of a sudden I had to meet, for instance, the president of Uganda and talk about something totally off the chain. That requires new learning.

Wall Street, with its high intensity and debauchery, must demand a lot from you. I’m curious to know what Wall Street took away from you.

[Chuckles] Debauchery, you say. Wall Street in 1993 when I was an intern was all about taking clients to strip clubs in limos. That stuff slowly became untenable and by the time I left, 15 years later, it was unacceptable.

So, there was that play-hard-work-hard mentality, but I always focused on my work. I would spend 100 hours a week working, which took away a lot from my social life. This delayed my getting married.

I only have one son and I think part of that is the price to pay when you are too career-focused. I was determined to get to the top of the ladder which is managing director of investment banking.

It was my single, almost obsessive goal that nothing else would get in the way of. It was tough because the system weeded out the less resilient, the weak, and those who could not endure the workload. I endured it all. But that came at a price.

In 2007. I was 37. A little late, seeing as my peers had gotten married much earlier.

When you finally ascended to the apex of the food chain on Wall Street, was it what you expected? Was it fulfilling or was there an empty sense of ‘what next?’

Getting the Managing Director role was a great accomplishment. We were well compensated, but it really got me thinking; I could stay on this course, or I could find another sense of purpose.

I mean, I’m not working at Stanbic for free, but it’s not money that brought me here. It was something grander, more fulfilling.

I think it’s around risk and ensuring that there’s a lot of convergence between banking and telco. There’s also a lot of digitisation happening.

I worry whether we are leaving the back door open sometimes and somebody won’t come in and take our stuff while we’re sleeping.

[Pause] I don’t know…probably burnout. Because if I showed you my calendar you would freak out. I don’t have much time to myself. Of course, these are high-stress level jobs.

Every call I receive is from a regulator, a CEO facing a crisis or a board member with an issue. And there are no simple fixes. So, yes, I fear burning out.

[Long pause] If you ask me right now to go and have lunch with the [Stanbic] Kericho branch team and chat about what’s going on, I will struggle with what to say.

I don’t know what’s acceptable and what isn’t. How do I connect simplistically with someone who might not necessarily see things the way I do or have the same experience? I am a bit uncomfortable in such circumstances.

It stops being interesting when you have achieved more than you need. I used to look forward to my bonus day in New York. It was a big thing.

The day before the bonus letter came out, I wouldn’t sleep because I was like, what are they going to pay me this year? What will I buy? But then there’s a certain point where it just becomes less important. So I’ve learned that money is just an end to a means. There’s nothing magical about it.

My son is nine. I realise that this stuff I have been doing is for him. But I also worry about spoiling him, giving him too much. I worry whether he’ll have the same grit I did.

I try to spend plenty of time with him, to teach him some life lessons. My son plays basketball, so I took him to the Kigali arena. We sat in the front row. That was a special moment for him, just the two of us. It was a special bonding session.

I’m trying to figure out the next phase of my life. I’ve run my course. I don’t think there’s anything about banking that I don’t know at the moment. I am trying to figure out how to have an impact.

At my age, maybe I should have had a bigger family because, you know, God has blessed me with a lot, and I feel like maybe the whole thing of just being career-focused was selfish. I sponsor many children to school, but I find that’s a bit of a failure. I should have tried to find a balance.

I’d say 30 percent. One of the most crucial turning points in my life was being accepted into Harvard Business School, which has an acceptance rate of five percent. It’s like winning the lottery and that opened many doors.

Sure, I had the grades and everything to get in there, but 95 other people were not picked, and I was, so luck matters. And then, of course, I went into one of the best banks where most of my abilities were honed. That’s also partly luck. But you need grit to capture those lucky opportunities and mould them into something.

Cars. I have a collection of cars that I’ve convinced my wife isn’t’ an extravagance. [Grin] It’s an investment. These cars are like rare wines, so I don’t think of it as wasteful spending, but it is an expensive hobby.

It started with the first car I bought in New York; a 1954 Ponton Mercedes. And then from there I just kept going. [Chuckle] I’ve been busy trying to get some of my cars into the Concours d’Elegance.

I submitted four cars in this year’s edition: a 1954 Ponton, a 1964 S “Fintail”, a 1970s S Class, and a 1988 560 SL. They call it the little dictator car. It has little curtains. It’s so big it couldn’t fit in this room.

Yes. That’s the first car I bought in Uganda from Mukwano, probably the most successful businessman who made money after the war.

It was the first S class in that category to be imported into Uganda. But then he got older and he didn’t drive it. It has almost 25,000 km on it. So, I bought it, partly because of the story; it’s a turning point in Uganda’s history.

Their ability to withstand such a length of time and their resilience. For instance the Ponton; if I put it on the expressway and drove it, we would zip by the Land Cruisers that were built last year. It is incredible. It’s 60- year-old engineering but still stable.