Broker Break Down
Some folks hate going to the doctor. Or the dentist. But for me, the most agonizing place to visit is a broker’s office. I am in the unpleasant position of having to oversee financial accounts for somebody who can no longer do it alone. Tiny accounts. But they need care, just the same. And last week I went for the annual “check-up” with the financial advisor.
I arrived precisely at the appointed time but was left in the reception area for 25 minutes, despite being the sole client in the office. Finally, I asked how much longer it was going to take, explaining I had other places to be. My question prompted minor motion among financial personnel, but still, I had to wait another five minutes. This waiting was primarily silent.
Usually there is jovial chit chat with the broker and the office manager. I gather this is all part of a prescribed formula – to make the client feel like part of the family – because I have experienced this small talk with several different financial advisors. We jabber about the weather, dogs, hunting, travel, restaurants – anything but religion, politics, or money. And often I’ve had to interrupt the small talk to suggest we get on with the big talk because If I didn’t, we would drivel on until closing time. Introvert that I am, I find this abundantly painful.
I took my own money out of investments long ago. On the day I closed my account, I had to endure some biting admonitory remarks from staff, basically insinuating I was crazy. I explained my rationale: While not rich by U.S. standards, I am economically better off than most people on the planet, and I find the constant chasing of the almighty dollar somewhat distasteful, and certainly a constant cause of anxiety. But for people steeped in the business of compounding profits, I think my explanation just translated to “nuts.”
Perhaps my apparent instability is why I now get the silent treatment. But why do they still keep me hostage for 30 empty minutes? At least when I go to the dentist, they give me Novocaine and get down to business quickly.
Now, I don’t have anything against investors, per se. I understand the desire to make your money grow into a respectable cushion that will keep you comfortable in retirement. I just don’t have the stomach for it.
And while the brokers of the world will insinuate that without their guidance you will never be able to retire, I’d counter that most people of the world struggle just to pay their bills and have neither the time nor the resources to consider interest rates, dividends, and long-term profits. Does this mean they will work until death? Probably some of them. But I know folks who have managed to retire without buckets of money and are content.
These people are essentially invisible to investment counselors, who make their living playing with other people’s “extra” money. (And, I’d bet, the wait time for the annual check-up is inversely proportional to the amount of extra money invested.) Hey – maybe when I closed my account, I became invisible! That would certainly explain the silent treatment!
And I keep thinking that if the world’s billionaires would invest just the tiniest percentage of their wealth in the truly invisible people, the problems of hunger and homelessness would disappear. Entirely. But then, I don’t enjoy the sport of chasing money – so maybe my thoughts on worldwide food and housing security are just sour grapes.