I bumped into an old friend yesterday. He was standing outside the bank looking somewhat puzzled. “What’s going on?” I asked.
He replied: “Remember all those years ago when we were told that we must ‘save for a rainy day’? Did you save? I hope so… I saved – and saved – and saved and every time I stashed a little bit away I wondered what I was saving for; most of my dreams contained a world cruise, an expensive car or a new house. But I went on saving whatever I could. Now and again I dug into the little pile to finance a new car or a new piece of furniture but my nest-egg kept growing.”
“I’ve just been sitting with my investment adviser inside here,” he gestured to the bank. “The guy is really upset with me. I told him I wanted to withdraw a large chunk of my savings to buy a retirement place down at the coast and he said, “you mean you’re going to break up this great investment portfolio I built for you? Remember that you always said it was for a rainy day?”
“So it’s raining,” I said, “and I want my umbrella.”
“But I’m still building it,” he said. “The NY stock exchange is finally getting back on its feet and this is the moment you want to take your money out?”
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “It’s just that a new place on the beach came onto the market. We flew over and looked at it. I put down a small deposit and now I want to make the purchase. I reckon that using the savings to finance my retirement is fully justified. Anyway, once we’re settled down there I’ll sell my place here and put the proceeds back in the portfolio. How’s that?”
“Well, that sounds better. How much do you want now?”
“So it finished alright,” I said.
“Only because I wiggled my way out. The bank guy made me feel like a criminal plotting to steal my own money…”