IN THEIR NEW BOOK The Missing Billionaires, Victor Haghani and James White make an interesting argument. Looking at the number of millionaires in the U.S. in 1900 and doing some math, they estimate that there should be many more billionaires today—thousands more, in fact—than there are. The question Haghani and White ask: Where did they go? Or, more specifically, where did their wealth go?
The authors consider possible explanations, including taxes—especially estate taxes—and the 1929 crash.
HOW DO SOME INVESTORS end up in places they don’t belong? Where do they turn for information and guidance? Who do they talk to before making important financial decisions?
What follows are the results of my unscientific research, which was conducted in some of the finest and most respected centers of advanced learning anywhere.
Barroom seminars, your window on the world. Are we talking politics, investing, religion, world peace or other topics of paramount importance,
ONE OF THE POSITIVE outcomes of my unsuccessful life: I’ve had an incentive to study ways to be successful.
Among the self-improvement materials I’ve looked at, many have titles like “how to become…” or something similar. The good ones are easy to understand and make you feel it’s possible for you to achieve whatever they’re selling.
When the material is delivered in person, you get the advantage of a great presentation from a dynamic public speaker.
ONE OF MY MOST enjoyable jobs was in training and development. This involved creating lesson plans and conducting classes for the insurance company where I worked.
One mantra in the training department was “define done.” When we ran a training program for another part of the company, our department manager would stress that we needed to find out the internal client’s definition of “done.” In other words, what would the client require or expect our department to deliver so that the client would be satisfied with our service?
HOW CAN WE GET greater satisfaction from our life—and what role does money play? Below is an edited excerpt from A Wealth of Well-Being, published this month by Wiley.
I often note that the biggest risks in life aren’t found in the stock market. If you want real risk, I say, get married. And if you want more risk, have children.
People laugh. The point is obvious.
I’VE FOUND RETIREMENT to be a conundrum. We finally have the time to pursue any activity we want in a leisurely manner—spend time with family and friends, exercise, sleep, travel, read, binge watch TV, knock items off our bucket list. On the other hand, I now hear the constant ticking of life’s clock.
Tick tock, tick tock.
For the decades before retiring, life for my wife and me was pedal-to-the-metal with work, children, commuting and chores,
I WAS A PART-TIME instructor in public speaking for Dale Carnegie & Associates during the 1980s and early 1990s. I taught a course at the Downtown Athletic Club in lower Manhattan.
At the time, my wife and I were living in northwestern New Jersey, and we each took the bus into Manhattan to our respective jobs. The course was given after work, so I had to take a late bus home. This meant my wife needed to drive to the bus depot to pick me up.
MANY HUMBLEDOLLAR readers are the financial experts that friends and family members rely on. But how can you best help those around you? Below is an edited excerpt from the 10th anniversary edition of “A More Beautiful Question.”
We all like to give advice—it feels good. “When you’re giving advice, you’re in control of the conversation,” notes the author and executive coach Michael Bungay Stanier. “You’re the one with the answers.”
But people who are experts at using questions to build rapport will tell you: resist the urge to dole out advice.
I’M NOT THE SMARTEST guy. That used to bother me when I was in school. The smart guys were making their teachers happy. They were named to the National Honor Society. They went to the best colleges. They seemed to have it all.
As I got older, and began to make more and more decisions on my own, I had to come up with a method that would allow me to make good decisions,
WHEN I WAS A TEENAGER, my father and I went to the local mall. I don’t recall why we went shopping together, but I do remember going into a Tandy craft store and buying a customizing kit for leather belts. Tandy Corp. would later become well known as the owner of RadioShack.
On the way home, my father and I were talking about the kit, and I made the comment, “It’ll be a good way to kill time.” My father shot back,
VOGUE RAN AN ARTICLE a decade ago about Marissa Mayer, then Yahoo’s CEO. The opening quote from Mayer grabbed my attention: “I really like even numbers, and I like heavily divisible numbers. Twelve is my lucky number—I just love how divisible it is. I don’t like odd numbers, and I really don’t like primes. When I turned 37, I put on a strong face, but I was not looking forward to 37.”
Mayer’s statement resonated with me.
WHAT’S THE BETTER choice? This is the perennial question for all of us, as we ponder how best to use our time, how to invest our savings and how to get the most out of the dollars we spend.
Want to lead a more thoughtful financial life? As I try to make better choices, here are five questions I find particularly useful.
1. Why would I stray from the global stock market’s weights?
WHEN I WAS IN MY 20s, I didn’t think much about money. My spending wasn’t lavish. I didn’t go to high-end restaurants or wear expensive clothes.
Still, if I wanted a book or a compact disc, I bought it. I wasted money on fast food instead of cooking at home. I blew money on electronics like a fancy CD player and bought a bigger, more expensive television than I needed. For somebody who considered himself reasonably bright,
BOXING CHAMPION Mike Tyson famously said, “Everybody has plans until they get hit for the first time.”
I’ve only been punched in the face once in my life. It occurred in sixth grade. I was alone in the boys’ bathroom when a bully came in. He said something to me and didn’t like my response, so he attempted to kick me.
I saw this happening out of the corner of my eye and I lifted his leg up,
WHEN I WAS YOUNG, my parents converted our basement into an indoor playground for the neighborhood kids.
My friends could listen to Elvis belt out Hound Dog or croon Love Me Tender on the Seeburg jukebox. Some chose instead to light up the Bally pinball machine. Others would challenge my father to a game of pool. Meanwhile, my mother would create mini-pizzas for everyone, with a slice of Swiss cheese drenched in tomato sauce on half an English muffin.