My Financial Advisor Cares More About My Money Than I Do

THE SONIC BOOMER

You may be shocked to hear that I have a financial advisor. I know I always sound like I’m reduce-reuse-recycling, not for environmental reasons but due to being broke, but that’s not the case. I’m thrifty! Therefore, over the decades, I have managed to tuck away hundreds of dollars. Hundreds!

Plus, when I had my government job, I established a 401K and gambled — I mean, invested — everything in the riskiest possible market. I lucked out on that one. So, with a bankroll that now stretches into four figures, I knew I needed expert advice on how to handle it.

For the uninitiated, there are several tried-and-true ways to choose a financial advisor:

  1. Look in the Yellow Pages. (Haha. Just kidding.)
  2. Use Google.
  3. Ask friends and family for a referral.
  4. Go to a free informational seminar.
  5. Go to a free informational seminar where they have lured you in via a postcard promising advice, as well as (subset a) free doughnuts and coffee, or (subset b) a free steak dinner.

At first glance, it may appear that 3 is the correct answer. It is not. 5a is the correct answer. 5b sounds good, but it bears all the hallmarks of a financial advisor who is going to take your money and squander it on dinners out with strangers.

Anyway, when all the doughnuts and coffee are gone, and all the information you need has been dispersed, you will realize you are in way over your head with this investing thing and all the various options that may or may not be “right for you” and, bloated with coffee and just wanting to get to the bathroom, you will give your name and phone number to the presenter who, within the week, will become your financial advisor. At least that’s how I did it.

On the up side, I love my financial advisor. She seems to care about what I do with my money — at least, much more than I do. She studies “trends” and cares about what Wall Street is doing and “follows the market.” She calls me if one of my stocks isn’t doing well and suggests a more promising option. She listens to me when I ask if buying gold is a good idea.

She also cares about my heirs. As everyone knows, the only real exciting thing about when someone dies is finding out if they left you any money. Otherwise, it’s a total bummer. Not wanting to disappoint, I have tried to “create a legacy” of some sort or another. (You’d think having thousands of columns with my name would be enough, but they will probably prefer cash.)

Last year, this financial advisor dropped the bombshell of Worst Case Scenario — my being excruciatingly sick but not dead. I could relate to this. I have always maintained that there are far worse things than death. So she signed me up for assisted living, at a cost, of course. Being “thrifty,” I chose the cheapest option, which means that I will stay in my home and, occasionally, someone will check on me. Upon opening the door, if they don’t smell anything, they will throw in a sandwich. Yet now I can rest easy. I am completely covered — in sickness, in health, in being dead.

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