If I’ve learned anything over the years as a high-stakes financial advisor, it’s, uh… not much actually.
Turns out that the majority of my well-to-do clients were born into their money and did absolutely nothing to grow or even lose their vast wealth. They would pay me exorbitant sums to move their money around, but the truth of the matter is that I truly didn’t do very much – not that they would have ever noticed of course.
So I took their money and thanked them for it, typing up detailed explanations on expenditure and divestiture, none of which they read, and dutifully installed a brand new glass balustrade in my third home.
I don’t know how they managed to pass the time, to be honest – I feel I’d get bored with nothing to do but spend my untold fortunes. But manage it, they do, ticking away the cents and the dollars as reliably as the sun sets and rises (although a private jet can outrun a sunset for a surprisingly long time).
And now I’m retired, sitting in my beachfront chalet, sipping on hundred-year-old claret and thinking back on all the rich idiots I used to know. I once knew a woman who flew a man in from a small Mediterranean town just to consult on a glass repair in Melbourne – he didn’t even touch the thing, just leant over the actual glazier and occasionally grunted in approval!
It truly does baffle the mind.
My ex-wife called me recently from our timeshare – the yacht – telling me about a ridiculous billionaire that had just met up with her party and told her about his new business renting islands to wealthy tourists for the weekend. She laughed in his face, then snuck away to call her stockbroker and organise an island of her own. Lovely guy actually, he officiated my third and fifth weddings.
Anyway, the point is… what was the point? Eh, I guess it doesn’t matter. Ooh, my caviar is here!