Given all the people we meet throughout life, only a small percentage actually have a dramatic impact on us. Some people may accompany us through our entire life, others for a year or two, and some only for a brief period. The impact isn’t related to the quantity of time we spend with them, but the quality of our interaction. A select few (i.e., teachers, bosses, etc.) may cross our paths fairly briefly, but they can profoundly change the course of our lives forever.
I’m sitting on the south side of Chicago in Criminal Court. I was given a homecoming present from the great State of Illinois, calling me for jury duty right after the New Year. After months of extreme market volatility and the emotional highs and lows (more lows than highs) that accompanied it, there is probably no better relief than to take a day off. I used to get the same relief from air travel although, since moving to Chicago, flights to the east or west coast aren’t long enough. I need at least the five hours of coast-to-coast fly time to “get away.” So today I’m finding the isolation of jury duty a wonderful place to just sit and think.
An advisor who I deeply respect once told me that one of the major differences between the high net worth and everyone else is that the high net worth can afford more space – first class seats, larger homes, more acreage. I would add that another advantage is the luxury of thinking. The high net worth can afford to step back and think.
A few weeks ago, I attended Northwestern University's football game. I’ve
been going off-and-on to Northwestern football games since 1957. While I’m no
sports nut (in fact quite the opposite), my father’s 50-yard-line seats were
handed down to me.
People normally attend the game for the social part, and Northwestern rewards us by not having crowded stands. But this year, the Wildcats were playing well (their record was 5-1 at the time), so the fans watched more of the game and talked a little less.
When I was growing up, one of the few unspoken rules in our house was never to discuss business. I was allowed to visit my father at his firm, Sincere and Company, a large Chicago brokerage firm founded by my grandfather (not in any way connected to my own firm, Sincere & Co., LLC), but when my father came home, he didn’t talk about work.
My son is growing up with the complete opposite experience. Given that my wife and I work together out of home offices when I’m not at my office in downtown Chicago, and even early in our marriage when we worked at different companies, we have always discussed work. As an only child, my son is often involved in these conversations and occasionally serves up mature insights over dinner.
So when one of the editors of the NAPFA Advisor hinted that it would be okay to write about my work, it dawned on me that this one unwritten rule I learned from my father continues to stand in the way of people understanding what I do for a living. After thinking it over, I agreed to take this opportunity to talk about myself and my business. So I’d like to discuss the toughest aspect of what I try to do and why I find it both challenging and rewarding.
During my 21 years of corporate life before I started my
business, it wasn’t unusual to see a senior executive “put out to pasture,” sometimes
for a year, sometimes permanently. Corporations
that give senior executives a temporary “non-assignment” are making a wise
investment by giving a valuable employee time to recharge his or her batteries. We all know that long workdays over a long time
period can really take a toll on one’s body and psyche, even when you love what
you do.
I went through a very rough period of time when I was in my early 30s, a situation I hope to never live through again. To survive, I spent any free time at the gym when I wasn’t working (all the time) or sleeping (barely).
I was fortunate to have been hired by Citicorp in Chicago during a time when the entire organization was focused solely on winning market share.
Richard Sincere has been a bi-monthly
columnist for the National Association of Personal Financial Advisors
(www.napfa.org) since February 2006. His column focuses on the thoughts and
perspectives of the high net worth. Through personal stories, experiences and
focus groups, Richard tries to articulate what advisors’ clients are thinking
behind the scenes.
About a month ago, a close friend called to
confirm our lunch plans, but he asked if I could come his way instead of him
traveling towards me. In retrospect, I’m glad I said I would go anywhere to meet
him for lunch. I didn’t know then that it would be the last time I would see
him.
After years of being pressured by friends and colleagues to work with an executive coach, I was ready to give in. I really needed help, and fast.
Having been a history major in college, I remain a major news junkie. Besides the volumes of e-subscriptions I receive, I am compelled to buy four newspapers daily, check the news web sites throughout the day, and catch news programs on TV whenever I can. Coming off last year’s semi-sabbatical (doing some not-for-profit work while recharging my batteries from 10 fast-paced years running Sincere & Co.), I am preparing to relaunch my company in early 2008. Hence, I had to get organized.
In my last column, I wrote about how I recently (and rapidly) relocated to Chicago from New England. My family decided to return to our Midwestern roots and made a quick purchase decision on a 70+ year-old house that even more quickly has taught us how little we knew about what we were getting into.
As educated as my wife and I think we are, and given that this is the fifth home we’ve purchased since we got married nearly 20 years ago, we thought we had enough experience under our belts to make a wise decision. I’ve never really been that emotional when purchasing a house but given the landmark status of this latest purchase, my undergraduate history degree got the better of me, imagining the conversations between architect and original owner, the joys and sorrows that took place within its walls.
