Personal Financial Advisor/Private Wealth Manager
The Real Poop
Grandpapa has died. (Oh, buck up - you didn’t know him that well.) Grandmama has always had nice hair and been a great cook. But she has never known anything about grandpapa's oil wells, other than that they bought her nice jewelry and clothes and a first-class trip each year at Christmastime.
She also thought this was her nephew Brian. Grandmama's a little out of it.
So now she needs help. Grandmama has $5 million to manage. (If you only had her problems, right?) She owns her home free and clear with no mortgage. She wants to know what her "allowance" is—grandpapa always gave her $5,000 a month for fun. (Do you know how many games of Skee-ball that can buy you?) But he took care of everything else.
Now she is the one in charge. So she calls her nephew for advice, and he refers her to a friend of his who is a personal financial advisor. This is someone who advises people about their personal finances. Geez. Never could have guessed that one.
Grandmama meets with Buck, the financial advisor, who examines her particular case, then advises her which stocks and bonds to buy, how much to leave in cash, and what type of "allowance" she should have. He also covers the kind of insurance she should own—health, life, auto, etc. He holds her hand through a very difficult process and even takes her shopping for a few toys. In fact, they spend so much time together and grow so close that Grandmama winds up putting Rick in her will, then passes away soon afterward, leaving him half her fortune.*
It can be a rewarding job in more ways than one—you are helping individuals hang onto their money and prepare for the future, not to mention that you get a nice fat check at the end of every week.
A nice fat check, but not the kind you were hoping for.
*Results not typical, nor legal, actually