Our Teammate’s Story of Tenacity and Purpose

Dear Clients, Team Jefferies, and Friends of Jefferies,

The world remains complex and volatile, but we don’t think anyone needs to hear further from the two of us right now about living with two wars, the short and long-term impact of AI, the direction of interest rates and potential for further inflation, or the current travails of private credit or other asset classes. Suffice to say, over our combined 60+ years at Jefferies, we know one thing is certain:

The world will sort and this uncertain period will be understood as one that served as a bridge to much better times ahead.

With that in mind, we have asked one of the newer members of Team Jefferies, 23-year-old Alejandra “Ale” Requesens, a member of our European prime brokerage desk focused on swaps and our hedge fund clients, to write our quarterly note to our clients and Jefferies teammates. Ale had cancer as a baby and lost one eye. The other eye was damaged by treatment and tumors, and she now only sees about 8-10%. Aside from being a standout at Jefferies, Ale represented the Spanish national team (along with her guide Victoria Ibanez) at the recent Milan Paralympics in the slalom and giant slalom events, all the while working remotely to support her teammates at Jefferies.

Let’s all step back for a moment and reflect on what people can really accomplish when they jettison their fear, put themselves on the line every day regardless of adversity and challenges, consistently remain optimistic, maintain a tenacious work ethic, never wallow in self-pity, and lift everyone around them by leading by example and showing purpose in everything they do. The world needs more Ales, always. Let’s all find our “inner Ale” and embrace each day during reflecting on all we have, versus what we wish we had.

From the Desk of Alejandra Requesens:

When I was an intern at Jefferies, I was asked to write an essay for the intern letter competition. I wrote about entering the working world with a visual disability, how scary it felt, how I wondered why any company would hire someone who needed accommodations and extra resources when they could hire someone able-bodied and save themselves the trouble. But I also wrote about what I learned during that summer: that my disability didn’t cloud my achievements, and that I could add value in my own unique way.

Three years later, I’m writing something different. I’m here to tell you that last month, I achieved my dream of competing in the Winter Paralympics.

Let me paint you a picture of what it’s like to race as a blind skier in the Paralympics. You get one inspection run on race day to memorize the course, one chance to build a mental map and a race strategy. Then less than an hour later, you’re standing at the start gate with your guide, your heart hammering, trying to hold onto every technical detail you memorized while managing the chaos of emotions: the nerves, the pressure, the slightly surreal realization that you’re actually here, and underneath it all, the need to stay focused and trust your training. You count down into the intercom connecting you to your guide: 3, 2, 1. Then you launch out of the gate, and you are flying down at full speed with no space for hesitation.

Getting to that start line took years of early mornings, endless training, flights across Europe, and very little sleep, while balancing a full-time analyst role and attempting some semblance of a social life. It’s been exhausting; I’ve definitely had moments where I’ve questioned whether it’s sustainable. But what has kept me going is honestly just stubbornness and the (maybe naïve) belief that if I put in the work and stay focused, things will eventually come together. I’ve learned to celebrate the small wins: a cleaner line, a faster time, even just making it through the week. Every bit of progress makes it worth it. So, when I picked up the phone in the Jefferies hallway to learn I had a spot in the Games, it felt like years of small victories had finally added up.

The past month has been a blur. Within days of that phone call, I was on a flight to Italy for three weeks of training and living in the Olympic Village with athletes from around the world. The whole experience still feels like something that happened to someone else.

But here’s what I’ll remember most: crossing the finish line and hearing my (very loud) family, friends, and Jefferies colleagues screaming from the crowd; messages pouring in from around the world, even from people I’d never met; my London colleagues watching the livestream and cheering me on. It has showed me how supported and loved I am, and how much that matters. So yes, dreams do come true (I know that’s painfully corny, but I just competed in the Paralympics, so I’m allowed one cheesy line); they just require a lot of work, and the right people in your corner.

Three years ago, I was writing about being an intern and finding my place in the working world. Now this. The bar’s pretty high for 2029…