Misplaced energy creates more harm than good.
No matter if it takes place during TSA follies or your investment portfolio.
A couple of weeks ago, we travelled to Nashville, Tennessee, for our CSA, Lauryn’s baby shower. It was a great trip, Nashville is a super fun place, and though I don’t drink, I lived vicariously through the antics of the WooHoo Girls and their inebriated cohorts partying down Broadway day and night.
Things took a bad turn when we departed from Nashville Airport and went through the TSA PreCheck. For some reason, whenever we go anywhere, I am treated as the reincarnation of Osama Bin Laden. I am constantly taken off the line and suffer the humiliation of being patted down and having glove-wearing luggage police rifling through my stuff. I find this amusing since, besides not drinking or smoking, I’ve never received a speeding ticket or have a criminal record. I pay my taxes and follow the general rules of society, but this means nothing in TSA-land, for some reason. I am public enemy number one.
I knew this wouldn’t end well when an agent took out a magnifying glass to read my passport! I didn’t have a prayer of getting through this gauntlet unscathed.
As usual, detention resulted. The X-Ray machine detected something unholy in my bag. (PTSD-like flashbacks immediately occurred of my anchovies in hot oil and Sandro’s homemade Pesto ripped from my cold, dead hands on a prior trip, but that’s a story for another day.) The TSA accused me of smuggling a jar of hot sauce and some Hair Gel back to New York. Thank God they stepped in and stopped me from wreaking havoc on Gotham City with these sticky, fiery substances!
I would have to go to the back of the line and check my bags to bring these items home. I told them that was OK, and they could keep them if it made them happy. I was set free to go on my merry way.
I don’t begrudge the hard-working TSA employees their right to earn a living, but TSA over-enthusiasm slants in the wrong direction. We could all agree that potential shoe-bombers aren’t our biggest worry.
How about turning these people loose on our highways, where Fury Road pales compared to U.S. road mayhem.
For example, in 2023, there were ZERO passenger deaths on U. S. Airlines. On the road, the number was an unfathomable 41,000!
For some reason, we fear terrorist attacks on planes when the real death trap lurks in the driveway. Road crashes kill the equivalent of a plane full of passengers every single day, yet no one panics when they grab their car keys.
Put these government watchdogs on the roads to harass pot smokers, texters, and road ragers, instead of lifting my hot sauce.
Our distorted view of car vs. air safety is similar to the attitude of investors and perceived market dangers.
Investors love to sweat the small stuff. The Stock market falls 1%? Panic. Are the unemployment numbers a bit off? Full meltdown. Inflation comes in a little hotter than expected? It’s time to buy a 50-year supply of powdered milk to prep for the upcoming Apocalypse.
While many investors fret over market noise, they often have a financial plan duct-taped together like some middle-school science project.
Everyone’s terrified of a market crash. Nobody panics about slow bleed from their investment fees. Many investors check their portfolio more than their levels of visceral fat. Guess which one they should care more about?
Markets aren’t out to get you. Your behavior is doing an outstanding job on its own.
Just like flying, proper investing is statistically safe—but only if you stop panicking about unlikely terrorist threats and focus on the real risks on the horizon.
That includes stop treating me like a Jihadist and giving me back my hot sauce.
