A week of Money Talks
Friend. Date. Neighbor. Daughter.
I had an interesting week.
Money Talks kept finding me.
No matter where I was or what I was doing, a Money Talk surfaced. They started during a phone conversation with a friend that became heavier than normal. Then one showed up on a date. Another arrived at my front door with a neighbor holding a tallboy at 2:30 in the afternoon.
Different people. Different circumstances. Same underlying truth: money is never just about money. All three were thought-provoking Money Talks that revealed something deeper about the human experience.
And as a bonus, I got one more exchange this week — the kind that reminds you why Money Talks matter.
🪺 A friend in his 50s without a nest egg
My friend Greg opened up to me unexpectedly.
He had mentioned his money problems before, but not with this much transparency.
“I’ve got nothing,” Greg said, referring to his retirement accounts.
This time wasn’t just a passing mention. This time, Greg sounded helpless.
Times are tough, he explained. Everything costs more. To stay afloat, Greg has had to tap into his retirement funds. He said it was a hard decision but the only option he felt he had.
Greg is in his early 50s. He is married with children.
We talked about getting him back on track and even kicked around a few opportunities. Greg told me it was important for him to have something to contribute when his children need money for college, a down payment for a home or assistance buying a car.
It felt like Greg stopped talking to me and started dreaming out loud.
🤨 A money question my date never saw coming
My dinner date was going great.
Stimulating conversation. Jokes. Laughs. Compliments. Flirting.
Then I popped the question.
“Are you good with money?“
Michelle smiled as she shifted her weight in her chair.
“I’ve never been asked that question,” she said.
The answer was a drawn-out, “No.”
Michelle likes the finer things. Also navigating life after a divorce, she candidly told me she misses the lifestyle that two incomes provided. Parting with the cleaning company and the personal chef is a difficult downshift. Michelle, a mother of two, left cooking in the rearview mirror, a duty she’s vowed to never do again out of obligation.
I didn’t belabor the issue or let my inner money nerd run wild. On the walk to the car, however, Michelle surprised me by returning the question. She asked if I’m good with money.
“I am now,” I said.
“What made you become good with money?” she asked.
“Divorce,” I said.
🧾 A neighbor gambles for dough
It was power hour in the stock market, and I sat under the sunshine on my front stoop as I monitored my positions.
I was green on the day and looking to lock in more profits when my neighbor Rueben stepped out of a car dropping him off and saddled up to me. He carried two tallboy Miller Lites, one already opened.
Again, it was 2:30 in the afternoon.
Rueben has the worst timing, he likes to ramble about himself, and he never talks about anything productive.
On this day, Rueben settled on his squares. The gambling kind.
While I was busy banking on Netflix and Nokia options, Rueben excitedly told me about his numbers.
“I put up $200 for $6,000,” Rueben said, gleefully.
I wanted to mention the stock market to him, turn my phone around and show him another possibility.
But I knew better.
It doesn’t work that way.
🗣️ A Money Talk with my princess
Parker almost never texts me.
It’s not entirely her fault, even though I tell her every day that she can call and text me whenever she wants.
As it turns out, email is her thing.
She sent me an email for the first time last Friday. It felt strange, almost supernatural, seeing my daughter’s name staring at me digitally like that.
Three nights later, during our 8 o’clock call Monday, I told Parker I was going to put an option on McDonald’s.
Here’s what she said to me, y’all.
“Can you email me McDonald’s chart so I can see if it’s a good buy?”
I sure did — screen grabs of the five-year, one-year, year-to-date and three-month charts.
On Tuesday morning at 8:46 — 16 minutes into the market open — I emailed Parker with the subject line: “McDonald’s lunch money.”
The body of the email read: “Ba-da-ba-ba-bah! I’m loving it 🥳,” along with a screenshot of an $11.34 unrealized profit on a McDonald’s call option.
I emailed Parker one minute later. The unrealized profit had risen to $40.84.
Then again five minutes later. With a screenshot showing a $73.34 unrealized profit and the subject line, “I’m out!”
“50 percent profit in 10 minutes. Not bad! 💸,” I wrote. “Whether you believe you can or you can’t, you’re right!”
Unlike my text messages, Parker actually responded.
Just a quartet of emojis in response to my first email showing “lunch money.”
“It’s gonna go up,” she wrote in reply to my $40.84 screenshot.
And finally: “Love it!!” she replied to my last email. “P.S. Sell it.”
For whatever reason, emailed screenshots of stock charts and profits worked where texts didn’t.
We finally found our rhythm in a way I didn’t see coming.
And I believe we’ve found our language.