treated with “Elite” status feels up-lifting, like a warm oily ass rub. And that’s precisely what it is. It’s just business. Well, of course it is. Neither your doorman or your waiter with your spoon love you.
In this world you will receive wedding “invitations” to be a”guest” with you paying the entire nut, and for the gift that absolutely everyone will see, and judge. 2K later you wonder what kind of person calls you their “friend” and “invites” you to be “their guest” at a resort on the opposite coast. The wedding industry established that absurdity. That’s all just service sector speak, coast to coast.
Often, very smart people direct very clever and chic businesses. That group includes many financial services “firms,” one’s flogging frozen dog scat they refer to as “retirement planning.” Greedy Creeps. Such people intimately know how to open your wallet effortlessly. No crowbar required. That’s their dollar snugged into your wallet. They do this magic like a stone pro, and they are. You are the wallet-flower they cooz into bloom. Next and without exactly realizing it, you’re burning for their honey love. It’s all good. Play along and enjoy. You’re payin’ for it. It’s just “Service Sector Smilin’. That Wallet-Pryin’ Fun.”
twice before fingering your c card in public. How and where you leverage your money matters. You will be viewed in a very different light depending on where it goes down. You will also be called many names. Whether you actually pay matters just as much, as does the outcome of the transaction. No?
At hotels you’re known as a “guest,” unless you stay at the Ziva Cancun or the Ritz and have name tags on your luggage. Then you’re not simply “a guest,” you’re “Mr. Anodd.” At most restaurants you’re a “diner.” That is unless you pop more than a c note per plate. Then suddenly you’re a “fine diner.” And if you add a fine bottle of whatever to the tab, you’re magically “a connoisseur,” unless you swing back after closing to hit on the hostess.
At a cigar bar you’re just a customer, unless you pay for a Montecristo. Then you’re an “aficionado.” With most airlines you’re just a “passenger,” unless you’ve flown American enough to match the entire flight crew’s annual gross salaries, along with the club dues. Then you’re an “Admiral’s Club member.”
When touring any historic sight or theme park you’re a “visitor,” or “park visitor.” Do that in a different state or country and you’re a “tourist” and a “park visitor.” If you’re both touring and boorish, then you’re a Brit or an American, unless you have an actual camera. If you’re European while skiing in the United States, then you’re just a line-crowding “asshole,” unless you’ve also been living in California.
you’re the friend of someone getting married you’re again a “guest,” even when stabbed for 2k to fly and stay some place you never wanted to visit. When being savagely price-gouged in the death industry you’re the “bereaved,” while the subject is the “beloved.” If you actually point out the piratical pricing you’re again “boorish” or “uncouth,” and utterly correct.
The real estate game calls you the “home buyer.” If you actually pay you become simply “the buyer,” unless you’re a foreigner buying in Greece. Buying residential in Greece now makes you a “citizen.” In retail you’re just a “shopper,” not “the shopper.” You have to actually pay before becoming “the customer.” And if you complain, you’re again from California.
Some say that where you shop defines you. Think Neiman Marcus maybe. At Neiman you’re part of their “clientele.” If you slide over to Costco you instantly rank as a “consumer,” regardless of what they may call you. If “shopping” in the prostitution business you’re the “john.” Paying makes no difference. To qualify as the, or a, “john” you simply have to look like a “shopper.”
Same goes for the cops, who also call you the “john,” no matter what you may be doing when they actually roll up on you. That’s unless you’re even slightly suspected of having done something additional. At that point you become a “likely” or the “perp,” unless you’re caught peering through a window, which then qualifies you as a “peeper,” even in broad daylight.
busily paying your way through the city or county penal and judicial businesses you’re “85654.” While standing in the judicial theater you’re officially known as the “defendant.” That’s until you lose which immediately makes you the “convicted.” If you’re fortunate enough to avoid internment, you become a long-term financial supporter of the system they like to call a “parolee,” or “deferral.” Either way you pay. Through the entire process your attorney will call you “the client,” or this “case.” That is if he ever actually calls.
your parole and while at the pharmacy purchasing pain-killers you’re known as a “customer,” unless you return, which automatically renders you as an “addict,” which returns you back to the process above. In fact, in all phases of the medical business, medical business, you’re a “patient,” unless things don’t work out. Then you become a “former patient.” If things veer seriously sideways you then become a “case study.” In medical trials you’re a “participant.” The “doctors” and pharmaceutical “sponsors” running the trials are then “pioneers.”
Behind the hand and everywhere, you’re just another customer, or maybe an annoyance. If you’re in the UK you’re simply a “punter.” It all works out to the exact same thing. Good or bad you’re still the one paying and what it’s called is just another massage.
Being called a “client” or a “customer” gets you exactly the same “advice.” Call it what you will, but retirement planning is about as helpful as a Ziploc full of frozen dog scat. Approximately 100% of recipients fail to adhere to “personalized retirement plans.” Most possess a far higher chance of being drafted into the NBA. That’s because such designs are meant for machines, not people. Real people are not built to repeat the same thing for decades, even if life cooperates, and it won’t.
Retirement planing sounds nice when unfolded in the right setting and manner. But then the weight of decades of continuous work and “saving” lands on your back. No one survives that. Retirement planning as a vision is an attempt to avoid, not expand. Avoidance is not a healthy motivation. It’s a mirage-like goal shimmering within a time frame too long to be functionally comprehended. No matter what the topic, planning has an effective range about equal to your car’s headlights.
Retirement advice is fool-proof, unless you’re the “client.” Such advice can never be deemed a “fraud” or “failure.” There is no honest clock. In three months, when the plan begins to fall apart, denial and psychic avoidance kick in. The “advisor” simply points back at you, for failing to fully follow the plan. By the time the gimmick fraud’s totally clear few can recall from whom they received the advice. And by then you’re too old to drive back and plant a boot in his ass.
you believe in actual “wealth management” then you do need help, because you’re in trouble. If you deal with boutique or Wall Street financial firms and believe they’re providing you with special “insider” treatment, your’re right. But it has nothing to do with making you money. It’s solely about “wealth transferring.” Why do you think Ken’s “Fisher Investments” ads clearly state “If you have $500,000 or more, then we’ll talk to you?” No? Walk in with 50K and see how long you stay. Bring a stop watch.
“Financial planners do not “serve clients.” They “sell” to anyone. “Personalized retirement plans” are packaged formulaic products along with what’s called “hand-holding.” Such products possess about the same help value as flying framing nails or Payday Loans. Success rates effected by such simple plans equal that of time travel by “space folding.” Far more can be gained by simply maximizing annual IRA contributions. You don’t need help with that.
Life is far too fluid to freeze-dry into any decades-long plan. Life is far too busy laughing to notice while people attempt to commoditize its’ ways. The guy behind the desk can’t fix that. He’s laughing too
we wake up it’s a win. After that it’s all gravy, and another 8:00 AM balls-out punt return wearing a plastic wig. Sports are beloved by many smart people because sports shrink life’s savage chaotic struggle down to human size. Survival becomes possible.
Amid the heat, pressure, and pain, our spirits grow and become. We strive, focus, dig deeper when nothing’s left, and overcome. Our spirits cry and celebrate within a space we can comprehend. Sports provide what the universe denies; a space, a time, a pre-determined task. And unlike love it’s all governed by Fa King rules. Otherwise, every day’s just a bouncing football. Retirement plan that. Or simply max out your IRA contribution this season. There’s still time on the clock.