Posted by: martinworster | April 4, 2008

94. FINANCIAL ADVICE

It was disconcerting when my financial advisor rolled up in a Nissan Maxima. I guess it’s like the American version of the Mondeo. Not a bad car (safe, suburban, bland as boiled shite, driven by stiffs in suits) – but not the one you want your financial adviser to be driving in. Where’s his Porche? His yellow Lamborghini? If I’m taking financial advice from someone surely they have to be the money? Show me the money! It was like visiting a doctor who was covered in open sores, with a hacking cough and lumps of hair falling out.

Let me clear one thing up. When I say financial advisor it sounds really impressive, like I have loads of spare wonga I want to dump in biotech stock or to be an angel investor in dotcom 2.3. In reality I wanted to refinance my house (well condo) and get out of the crappy loan I am currently in. Especially considering I bought at the height of the property roller coaster and now it’s all sub prime doom and gloom, recession yada yada, and my gaff is worth so many tens of thousands less than what I paid for it. Great.

So my financial advisor started to offer his credentials and whittled on about stocks. My knowledge of stocks was limited to those of the soup variety or those wooden contraptions used in medieval vilage squares to throw rotten veg at tea leaves (thieves).

I don’t know why I have become so judgemental of someone, just because what car they drive. I really think living here is rubbing off on me – ‘gross, so he had an 05 Ford, I mean, whatever!’. Your car here is such a big part of your identity. And I also don’t know why I’m stuck on the brand of car driven by my mortgage man. It just reminds me of a time when I was living in Chamonix and I met a life coach. As the night progressed and we got more drunk, more and more was revealed about the life coach, a tragedy unravelling. He was in the middle of a messy divorce, never saw his kids and on the verge of bankruptcy. I think he needed some coaching in life. Which reminds me, I must remember where I put his number.

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