About nine years ago now, I found myself traversing the shopping streets of some Mediterranean island. Walking right next to me, in the blazing hot sun, was Frank (not his real name). He was one or two years ahead of me in college, and seemed to have everything going for him: a charismatic twenty-something with the uncanny ability of making new friends wherever he went, he also possessed a great sense of fashion, with a physique that would put Superman’s to shame – six pack abs, the whole deal. And, from what I could tell, he didn’t want for money. He always wore his trusted Ray-Ban sunglasses everywhere he went, carried the latest iPhone etc.
Even though it might look like it, this wasn’t exactly a holiday. While we had a couple of minutes to ourselves right now, soon the teenagers would return, and we’d have to take them to wherever was the next activity. Their parents had sent them on this trip, hoping they’d learn whatever the organisation had promised to teach. In reality, these kids wouldn’t learn that much, but they’d definitely have lots of fun along the way.
I was here because my college had given me a list of choices of things to do, and this turned out to be the least bad one. And Frank was here, well, because he liked the idea of being paid to go on a trip, whilst also giving him ample opportunity to take pretty pictures for his social media accounts. He explained as much, walking right next to me. He’d done this gig a handful of times already, he said, and by now he knew these streets like the inside of his pocket. One guy to another, I got what he was saying: he’d squeezed this deal for all it was worth, but it would soon come to an end after graduating. Good on him.
Honestly, I liked Frank. We shared the same sense for comedy and stand-up comedians, happened to think likewise about religion, had a similar taste in music etc. In the years that followed, I kept track of him through his social media account. He’d moved to a different country, one which he seemed to like better. Again, good on him. Somehow, he made it work.
Then, one day, he started making posts about day trading. If you have no clue, that means buying and selling stocks (and other financial instruments) on the financial markets, limiting yourself to a relatively short time frame to do so. He posted pictures of charts and graphs, boasted about how much he was learning, and, finally, offered to teach others to trade themselves. I followed along, but by this point I knew day trading wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. And I soon suspected (and later knew) what he truly was looking for, which was for others to join and open an account through him, so he could earn a commission. How did I actually know? See, he’d forgotten to be more circumspect regarding the pictures and videos he shared of all the stuff he was learning, once showing a PowerPoint presentation clearly with the words ‘prospects’, which is a sales related term. I immediately got what game he was playing.
Oh, and somewhere down the road, this supposed financial expert and day trader extraordinaire asked his followers if they could help him find employment in his area. One day Frank stopped making posts about graphs and charts. It sort of fizzled out, no explanation given.
Now, I don’t think Frank is a bad guy. Neither do I think Jessie Lee Ward is a bad gal, from last week’s newsletter. But it does beg the question: how do sensible people wind up trying to sell hot air, doing some of these things which I’ve written about in some of my previous newsletters?
While the quest for an ever-increasing pile of money is part of the answer, I don’t believe it explains everything. I mean, most people don’t think of themselves as mustachio-twirling villains; they usually need to feel justified in their actions – difficult when it comes to selling hot air. However, if it fits your belief system, it’s easy to justify just about anything.
I’ve observed a certain belief system these people share. It’s not an organised religion, so there are no priests to teach it. Yet, soon as you pick up a self help book, or watch a business course, you’ll slowly pick it up, one piece at a time. It shares certain beliefs from ‘New Thought’, especially when it comes to the belief of ‘manifestation’ – the idea that our mental states turn into experiences and results in our day-to-day lives. Let’s also add their faith in the ‘Law of Attraction’ – which they tend to conceal. And, obviously, there are a bunch of self help tropes they adhere to, memorizing one quote after the other. To wrap it all up, it’s all combined with a strong belief in laissez-faire capitalism.
But guess what happens when reality clashes with positive thinking, and the desire for financial gain is still unmet? That’s when someone justifies bending the truth a little – or a lot. It’s where the grandiose origin stories come from, not to mention the various grand claims when promoting their products and services etc. But if you’re too untethered from reality, you end up paying the price, sooner or later. Who knows, you might end up believing magnets will magically cure all your ails. Food for thought.
Kind regards
Vincent J. Dancet