~Tuesday~ Late this afternoon, I met with my financial advisor to check on my “stash” in advance of the presumably imminent, so-called “fiscal cliff.”
I’ve been meeting with Nathan for over 12 years now, and although he certainly knows more about me than I know about him—If he didn’t, how could he advise me financially?—I consider him a friend, as well as my financial advisor.
For the first time in all those years, this evening we went out for a couple of drinks after our meeting. We both appreciated the irony—or is it the congruency—of our cocktail purchases at happy hour today and our investment purchase of some time ago of Diageo stock in the $50-$60 range, which closed at $117 a share today.
Over the course of our conversation, Nathan said to me, “I still remember the day I met you.”
This really surprised me, and it surprised me even more when he told me where it was, and “how it went down.”
What was most interesting to me about his telling of the story was not that I could see it all replayed vividly in my mind, because I couldn’t, but that whenever he said, “And then you said this,” or “And then you did that,” I was, like, “Yep. That’s exactly something I’d say!” or “Oh yes. I would so do that!”
Picture it. Sicily. 1912 Raleigh. 2000:
We were at the Capital Center and you came in with some kind of voucher from IBM—a $100 voucher to use on American Express Financial Services—or something like that. [So me. I’m a coupon whore.]
You walked in, and up to us, and I remember Murat asking you why you were there, and you replied, “To be perfectly honest, I’m here to get my money’s worth out of this free $100 coupon, and that’s it.” [Again, so something I’d think, if not always say out loud.]
And to that, Murat said, “Well if that’s all you’re interested in, I can just give you a $100, and you can be on your way.”
Nathan reflected on how bold that was of Murat, ever-the-salesman that he was (and still is, evidently), and I reflected on how I decided to stay, instead of to walk away—and not so much because of that salesline of Murat’s, but, more likely, because of his jawline.
That picture of him that’s in his profile that I linked to above doesn’t really do him justice. I mean he still looks good in it. But he was beautiful then and in person. So my type. [Men are pigs. Straight or gay.]
Nathan ended his retelling of the scene with, “I like to think that Murat brought you in, but I made you stay.”
And that’s a great—and accurate—perspective on it all.
One of the first things Murat did was sell me a life insurance annuity—the insurance part being something I didn’t really need, and the annuity part being an investment that never did do that well.
Long after Murat was out of the picture, Nathan followed through on an exit strategy he had devised for that investment—one which minimized my loss in terms of avoiding surrender penalties, and invested the yield in investments that went on to do well.
Morals of the story:
All that glitters (Murat) is not gold (in your nest egg).
Brains (Nathan), not brawn (Murat), takes your portfolio up a notch.