"James" was tall and skinny, and frankly a bit dorky, but he had a wonderful, self-deprecating sense of humour, and kept us all laughing constantly. He also had a weak stomach, which proved its frailty at the most awkward of times. One summer night at a downtown restaurant, he must have eaten too much, and was feeling especially nervous as two lovely young ladies approached the restaurant we were leaving. Unable to contain himself, he wretched his meal directly in front of them on the sidewalk, much to their horror, and much to our amusement.
He hadn't been drinking. He was just that nervous around girls.
We were only a little surprised when he started dating "Maria," who was 5 years younger than James, and a cute, slender, first generation Canadian of underprivileged circumstances. James found her vulnerability especially fitting and gained confidence around her. In him, she found an older guy who seemed like a good bet to be gentle. We were all pleased when they married. He was taller and stronger, but there was barely 200 pounds between the two of them. They were a nice-looking, if boney couple.
A few months later I was studying at the university library when I was approached quietly by a miserable-looking Maria, who had been crying earlier. She and James were already separated. In a series of conflicts, James had not been so good to her after all. The power he should have used to protect her was instead lorded over her. He never physically struck her, but he frightened her. And she left him.
"The girl you marry will take a terrible chance on you." Gordon B. Hinckley.
Just a newlywed myself, the whole thing made me feel melancholy. Could I be described as a gentle husband? Would my wife approach a friend in a library and say such things? I went home a little early that night, feeling the need to speak softly, maybe wash some dishes, or just talk.
I am continually struck by the similarities between close relationships and the financial advisory business. A husband has a duty to take care of, and protect his wife and family. An advisor also has a duty-of-care obligation, a husbandry of your assets, if you will.
An excerpt from the Ethics section of our Conduct and Practices Handbook reads: "The advisor must act carefully, honestly and in good faith in dealings with the client and not take advantage in any way of the trust the client has placed in the advisor."
Very early in my advisory practise, after studying several investment ideas and analyzing a client's portfolio, I came up with what I thought was a reasonable solution, and invited him in to discuss it with me. I had prepared a few back-up scenarios, and tried to anticipate his questions in advance. When he arrived, I was nervous, but placed my ideas in front of him, and waited for his questions, or disagreement. But instead, he came back with the most frightening words of all: "If that's what you think is best, do it. I trust you."
I feigned appreciation, but in my head I was screaming: "Oh my goodness! Couldn't we argue a bit first? Could I share some of this burden of responsibility with you?" I trust you. Sobering words.
The feeling in the pit of an advisor's gut should be sobering indeed. While a young couple places their hopes and dreams into each other's hands, an advisor is entrusted with the substance of decades of production from those same four hands. He (or she) should open financial doors for you, put you first in his investment deliberations, and... really care.
Mark Ryan is an advisor with RBC Wealth Management, Dominion Securities (member CIPF) and can be reached at [email protected].
