Bulls, Bears and Rollercoasters

Over the years, I have lived by two basic life principles.

One, I will choose freedom over power at any cost.

Secondly, the naked pursuit of money is a hollow goal.

These twin tenets suited me well for most of my life. Mind you, I was never rich, far from it, but I was happy, perhaps blissfully ignorant.

Then I met my wife, a Beijing-born firecracker who was everything that I was not. In her world, if you’re not thinking about money, you’re wasting your time.

I was a time-waster, pure and simple.

In my wife’s opinion, a loser.

Fine, I thought. Opposites attract.

We could make this work.

Here’s how I explain our differences: In the poker game of life, I am sitting at the table with a very humble pile of chips. But they are my chips; I worked hard to earn them and I am happy with the outcome.

My wife is sitting over at the high-stakes table. Her stack of chips is ten times the size of mine. And yet it is still not enough.

Her money-making schemes have involved everything from real estate and Bitcoin to promoting fad products and stock investments.

And she has had more successes than failures.

Meanwhile, I've stood watching from the sidelines, biting my nails.

Our differences were obvious early on.

When we first started dating, my wife came home one day with an explicit set of instructions:

I was to shift my meager weekly-paycheck deposits as a newspaper reporter from my bank into a newly-established Charles Schwab account.

She was day trading. She would handle things from here on in.

My response was quick and decisive.

Absolutely not.

Instead, I gave her a small amount to invest, which she quickly lost.

The die was set. I knew I had to watch her.

And closely.

Once, my wife made a stock investment on a tip from a friend. The amount was just sizable enough to make me break into a sweat.

Soon after she was onboard, the stock plummeted, to perhaps half its original worth.

Instead of selling, like I would have in half-a-heartbeat, my wife did something that in my book was both extraordinary and foolhardy.

She doubled down. And bought more of the stock which, in her eyes, was now even a better bargain.

The stock eventually righted itself and she made money.

My wife has cojones.

She bought real estate when I was content to rent. Then she bought more. Her rule: Always buy. Never sell.

Did I say that she is a fearless poker player?

I eventually got real estate. But the market?

Never.

Stocks to me were a mysterious hieroglyphics I would never understand.

I wouldn’t know a bull from a bear if I met both as the Las Vegas zoo.

When I was a kid, as part of some grade-school economics project, we were instructed to choose a blue-chip stock and watch how it reacted to events of the day, both good and bad. 

I chose Standard Oil.

I would wake up every morning and, over my bowl of cereal, would watch the stock falter and decline in the years leading up the the 1970s oil crisis.

I’d seen enough. And while I have invested in a 401K like everybody else, I let the experts choose the stocks, and stay on the sidelines, where I belong.

I also never look at my winnings or loses. It’s like a bone a dog has buried in the backyard. I will only go looking for it when I am hungry and need it most.

Until then, it stays buried.

Meanwhile, I’ve never translated life into the stock market. I’ve never walked into my local CVS pharmacy, for example, and seen a long line and said, “Hey, this is a successful company. I wonder how their stock is doing.”

In January, as COVID-19 crept from China to the rest of the world, a friend named Joe was staying with me in Las Vegas and following the news coverage.

“It’s coming,” he would say, wringing his hands. “Get ready for Armageddon.”

I remained blissfully ignorant, but Joe wouldn’t give it up.

One day, he called his broker and invested in surgical masks. He bought in when the stock was selling at $5 a share. The stock rose to $40 before it settled in at $20. Joe had sold at $13. His fingers got itchy.

Still, I chided Joe, an altruistic guy on all counts.

I called him the Merchant of Death, wagering on the backs of the unfortunate.

Weeks later, I find myself in the same boat.

Thanks to my wife.

The other day, she came up with a plan.

During these days of business closings and stay-at-home pondering, my wife has suggested a way to make money.

Even now.

Many people, including us, have lost big time in the stock market collapse.

But my wife’s kind sees opportunity everywhere.

Let’s invest in some stocks, she said.

The timing is perfect.

I, of course, demurred.

But she has relented. The only way she has made the idea remotely palatable is to make it into a contest.

Me versus her. 

May the smartest, savviest, shrewdest person win.

Now she had me.

We will each choose a blue-chip stock and invest while its returns are low.

Her idea is that after this terrible chapter of American economic and social life, when the world eventually returns to some form of a new normal, stock prices and business fortunes will rise with it. 

My wife reasons that we should bet on America’s future when she is laid up with a broken leg.

We’re picking trusted stocks, with a proven track record, nothing with the sickening ups and downs of a carnival rollercoaster.

These stocks will come back, she said.

Even if we’re not getting in at the ground floor, when they might have been even lower earlier in the market decline, there is no time like the present.

Our investments are modest, because a stone cannot give much blood.

So, here goes:

My wife, who works in the financial payment industry, is picking Master Card, which recently sold for $246 a share after a low of $203.

Me, I’m going with Apple.

Why?

I own an Apple computer and admire their customer service ethic. Apple Care has pulled my ass out of too many holes to count.

Apple was selling at $287 a share, after a recent low of $224.

So, we’re ready to pull our respective triggers.

Wish me luck.

And God forgive me, because I know not what I do.