Well, well, well – that was a first. I had a meeting with my financial planner that didn’t involve headaches, thundering waves of self-doubt crashing upon me, and a sense of oxygen depravation. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m finally across what the core meanings and implications are, or that he’s read the first article and is determined to make changes to how he delivers information. Probably both.
He had asked that my wife join the meeting but alas, that was not to be, courtesy of one cute but terribly unhappy teething baby. That left me to face the music alone, which is apt because that’s exactly how I felt in the insurance meeting a couple of weeks ago.
This time though, I was more comfortable. I asked some questions, and he gave some concise answers. I knew what he was talking about a little more, and I was prepared to get stuck in. I didn’t want to lose track of the conversation, and didn’t.
It was a wonderful feeling, to be honest.
Before I knew it, I was sliding the scale up and down on insurance cover totals to see how it would affect my premium. I was looking at the computer screen and allocating my predetermined expenses against the business and out of my personal cash flow as fast as his assistant could keep up.
And then I left and went home and felt content. Weeks later, there had been no movement, while I waited for the work to be done behind the scenes. It was dead time, before today.
SoA day
Today was the delivery of the Statement of Advice. I have a comment about that which I’ll come back to further down the page, but first
I wanted to talk about that dead time.
Keeping my motivation for the process hasn’t been easy. It’s been six weeks since I had my last meeting and in that time there has been practically no movement on developing a plan from what I can see. I’m sure he and his team are working away behind the scenes but it’s not the greatest thing to have to spend so long waiting for the next stage to happen. I suspect this is a common problem and nothing new for people in the industry. It has one particularly bad downside though, which I’ll get to.
He has been in touch with some frequency – a call here to ask about a form, or an email there to check something else. I suspect he knows this dead time is a period of uncertainty for a new client.
I’m personally also motivated by the fact that as of July 1 this year, I will be operating my work under a company structure as opposed to the sole trader setup I’ve used for the past 18 months, which is another thing he advised me on, months ago, before I was officially a client. I’ve been working away on that – getting an accountant, registering a variety of things, setting up new bank accounts, and so on. The financial planning experience runs parallel to that, so I’m fortunate I’ve had something else to feel like I was progressing on.
The waiting game
However if I didn’t have that other project to keep my mind occupied (other than all the usual distractions of being a parent, a small business owner, and so on) then six weeks feels like it would be a woeful amount of time to have to sit and wait for an update. I could joke about how it took six weeks for my blood pressure to return to normal after the insurance meeting, but it’s quite serious. It’s kind of like joining a gym. The hardest part is walking in that first time, following a decision to improve your life. Stepping through the door in search of help.
It’s the same thing with the planning world and the process of becoming a client. From the initial outlay, to the multiple meetings that required chocolate and much patience, to the homework at home – it felt like I had stepped through the door and jumped onto a treadmill. You really want to see some movement; an indication that a new horizon approaches and with it a new reality. But weeks later and all is the same.
Tumbleweeds blow by. But it also has, in my case, a much more serious side effect.
When he gave me my SOA on a USB stick, in a nice little box with my name on it, I put it in my bag and I’ve never looked at it.
Shameful? Probably. By the point he handed me the USB I was of the opinion I’ve already committed to the process, in my mind I’d already essentially kicked off, and I feel like I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust what he was doing. So I’ve placed myself in his hands entirely, trusting that he knows what he’s doing.
Maybe I’ll go check that USB though, just in case.
