Years ago, when I worked in the financial services industry, I remember a colleague vividly describing Black Monday – the single biggest one-day drop in the stock market at the time.
“I was surrounded by co-workers doubled over their trash cans throwing up,” he said, “It was sheer panic as we watched what seemed to be the market whittling away to nothing. Panic over their own money. Panic over their clients’ money. One guy threw his desk chair at the window, hoping to hurl it – followed by himself – right on through. Damndest thing about windows in a high rise building though, they don’t break that easily.”
I was too young to be in the game back then, but I’m in certainly in it now.
For years, I just let myself ride the market, taking advice from trusted advisors along the way, but for the most part, I allowed everything to sit where it was because, after all, it was comfortable. It was working for me.
In the last few years, I have seen glimmers of hope that perk up my ears enough to start paying attention again. Enough to watch, heart racing, as things started to look more promising.
But I’ve also held on tightly (breath held) as I’ve watched what I value drop in a steep, scary descent.
In 2018, we are calmed by calling these “market corrections.”
But I wonder, how long do you hold on to the hope that there’s another, more permanent (but steady) upswing somewhere on the horizon before you give up on it? At what point do you realize that your investment is not working for you as much as you work for it?
And I realize now that it’s
Which is exactly why I’m quitting on an investment that doesn’t feel right anymore – my job.
But I am not panicked. I’m not doubled over my trash can throwing up.
I stand desk chair in hand, ready to throw it through any barrier that may try to stop me from achieving my dreams.