A stalled car starts this 2018.
My wheels must’ve been equipped with artificial intelligence of the devious kind. An ’02 Mercury that has under 64,000 miles on its odometer, my car’s prime directive is planned obsolescence. Continue reading Ghost Warranty
A few years before the stock market tanked, I inherited a piece of money. The low six figures bequeathed only sparked the dimmest Champagne dreams. Fortunately, I’ve never had caviar tastes.
After taking prudent steps by settling with everyone I owed, and yielding oh-so-slightly to one impulse — traveling — I invested the remaining chunk.
During the money part, the banker handling the funds transfer asked my plans. Beyond depositing that money in my accounts I had none. Until the sudden jolt in tax brackets, I lacked personal financial foresight.
The bank guy saw a pigeon. He talked a good line. If I’d been younger and insecure, I likely would’ve swallowed his suggestions whole and entrusted him and his institution with my pile. Instead, the smoothness of his patter raised suspicions. Mine. Me and my cash left shortly thereafter. Continue reading We Stand Together or Fall Apart