On 30 November last year, I was made redundant by Enron - or, to quote the T-shirts on sale in America, I was "lay'd off". I had worked there for eight months, after being told that I was joining the "Goldman Sachs of the energy trading world".

The company's offices, in a swish new building (water features in the huge reception area, and so on), were in London, near Victoria Station. I worked on one of the three open-plan trading floors, which, as in any bank, were busy, loud and boisterous, with the traders' attention flicking between their four or more screens, or one of the many large, flat televisions.

The floor was divided into UK and Continental gas and electricity trading, which were the company's bread and butter. But Enron also led the market in the trading of internet broadband capacity, a new method of making money out of thin air. It also offered clients the opportunity to hedge risk using weather derivatives. Many of us barely understood some of these more complex schemes, but they seemed to be the future of the company.

Almost everyone I met at Enron had begun their financial career in traditional investment banks. But the atmosphere at Enron was different. People took the time to talk rather than shout. It was a truly international company - I worked with Germans, Americans and Hungarians, all of whom flew tiny national flags from the tops of their screens. The level of education was high even for banking; many employees had masters degrees and spoke several languages.

The broadband team found a large school bell to ring after each successful deal. Towards the end, there was a two-month period when the bell rang only a handful of times. Yet the atmosphere remained good; the occasional tolls were met with cheers and laughter, rather than with derision. Perhaps Enron tried too hard to excel; for all its faults, it was a good company to work for.