I was sitting at my local hangout recently, minding my own business, when a guy parked himself on the stool beside me.
We started talking. Or, more accurately, he started talking and I happened to be sitting there.
Before long, I was getting the complete financial history. Real estate. Rental properties. How much money he’d made. How much his properties were worth. How he’d used rental income to build more wealth. And now he was looking at buying a cottage in the area.
Great. Good for you. Seriously.
I’m not jealous. I don’t resent people who have made a lot of money. If you bought some properties at the right time, managed them successfully, watched their values increase, and now have enough rental income to buy a cottage, congratulations.
Enjoy the cottage and maybe a new boat with a nice, new dock. Get one of those enormous stainless-steel barbecues that is the size of a living room for your deck.
I just don’t need to know how much everything cost.
There is a strange type of person who feels compelled to give complete strangers an unsolicited quarterly earnings report. You ask where they’re from, and somehow, three minutes later, you know what they paid for their house, how big the backyard is, and whether they have an indoor and outdoor pool and maybe a tennis court.
Ask what they do for a living and instead of hearing “I’m in real estate,” you get revenue projections. Ask whether they enjoy fishing, and they’ll somehow work the price of the boat, dinghy, and motor into the answer.
I have never understood this. I may be wrong, but to me it is a sign of insecurity and having to prove oneself by stating what they own and the value of it.
There’s a perfectly normal version of the conversation:
“We’re thinking about buying a cottage up here.”
Wonderful.
We can talk about the lake(s), available cottages, and why they might be a good choice. We can talk about how much prices have gone up the last few years or whether you want waterfront or something a little farther inland – or maybe even more secluded.
That’s a conversation. But when you start giving me dollar amounts, property valuations, and income figures that I never asked for, I’m no longer participating in a conversation.
I’m attending a financial presentation with balance sheets, income statements, and revenue projections. Apparently I missed the PowerPoint when I sat down.
But there was something else about my new acquaintance that was even more irritating.
Every so often, he’d ask me a question. For a moment, this fooled me into thinking we were having an actual conversation.
Then I’d start answering. And he’d talk over me. I’d get a sentence – maybe two – into my answer, and suddenly he was off again, interrupting whatever I was saying and steering the conversation back toward himself.
Then, when he was done with his soliloquy, he’d ask me another question.
I’d answer…he’d interrupt.
Eventually I realized the questions weren’t really questions. They were conversational launching pads. He wasn’t asking because he was particularly interested in my answer. He was apparently just giving himself a brief rest before beginning his next story. I felt like saying, “You don’t listen very well, do you?” but thought better of it.
If you’re going to ask me a question, at least stick around for the answer. Otherwise, let’s stop pretending this is a conversation. You’re giving a presentation, and I’ve somehow become the audience.
And I’ve noticed another thing over the years. People who are genuinely comfortable with their financial situation often don’t seem particularly interested in telling everybody about it. They don’t need to.
I’m sure there are plenty of exceptions, but I’ve always been a little suspicious when somebody I barely know – or even know reasonably well – starts telling me how much money he makes. If you’re doing that well, why are you trying so hard to convince me?
My opinion of your net worth should rank somewhere between the bartender’s opinion of your lawn mower and your neighbor’s assessment of your golf swing.
Yet we’ve all met people like this. Sometimes it’s money, a car, or a house. Often it’s all three.
“We’ve got 6,500 square feet right on the water.”
Okay. I didn’t ask, but congratulations on having several rooms you probably never enter.
Then there’s the guy who can’t simply own a car. He has to tell you what he paid for it.
The boat guy can be particularly impressive.
You say, “Nice boat.”
A normal human being says, “Thanks.”
Boat Guy says, “Yeah, 240 grand, but I got a really good deal.”
Now I know he can afford a $240,000 boat. Or at least the bank thinks he can.
None of this means we shouldn’t talk about money.
Money is part of life and a protection. Real estate is interesting. Investments are interesting. I’ve had plenty of fascinating conversations with people about how they built companies, changed careers, bought properties, or made investments.
The difference is context. If I ask how you built your business, tell me. If we’re discussing real estate investing, numbers might be relevant.
And if you ask me a question, I’ll happily answer it. But then comes your part. Listen – because wealth and success can be interesting.
What’s irritating is the need to impress somebody who never asked to be impressed – while showing remarkably little interest in anything that person has to say.
So, yes, buy the cottage or even two or three. Buy the boat, the luxury SUV, and the barbecue visible from the International Space Station.
I hope you enjoy every bit of it. Just don’t sit beside me at the bar, make me audit your balance sheet, and then interrupt me when you ask what I do for a living. And remember, not everyone is motivated by the same things. Many are content with a decent roof over their head, some savings, and a car that gets them from point A to point B. And some don’t need to plaster their exotic vacations or $4 million home all over Facebook and Instagram in search of likes and comments. They are secure enough in their own life that they don’t need validation from anyone.
