Post Old City Blues

When I lived in The Old City I sought the advice of a financial adviser who I knew from The Program.  In fact, his wife actually sponsored SuperK for a while.  Nice man, thoroughly trustworthy, completely honest, a little whacked with his political views but all in all a solid resource for me as I tried not to do anything especially stupid with the small amount of money that I'd managed to save. And I stuck with him even when he drifted away from regular attendance at meetings.  He stayed sober and his advice usually seemed measured and reasonable, although I didn't always heed said advice.

A few years ago he changed the focus of his business and when SuperK and I declined to follow him down this new path he said some things to me that I found unduly harsh.  We had a lot going on with all the moving so it was just easier to leave the money invested with him even though he pretty much cut off all communication with us.  Finally, we made the effort to engage a new adviser here in Vacation City.  I try to be a stand-up guy so instead of simply booting this dude to the curb I picked up the phone and gave him a call to explain that we were moving on.  Frankly, some of the reason is that it's nice to have a resource available that isn't . . . you know . . . 2500 miles away.

Well, why I expected that to go smoothly is beyond me at the moment.  While he didn't shout obscenities and hurl invective he was not gracious, either.  And what did I expect from an alcoholic who isn't actively working on his recovery, anyway?  I got what I got, I guess.  But it was important for me to try to do the right thing or what I perceive as the right thing.