Remember the Alamo:
Walking into the break room of Waste Management with my eyes barely open, hungover from the night before, I saw a rare sight. My fellow front end drivers were unusually cheerful.
"The stock went up $4 yesterday!"
These were not day traders or day laborers. They were a group of men who clocked in two hours before the sun would make its daily appearance. Their work was done with a similar consistency.
Whereas roll off drivers will more often than not barely be noticed on a construction site, or the residential refuse hauler who is intentionally ignored except for a few ladies who were notorious in all of their gloriousness as they hurriedly dragged their garbage can out in the morning wearing only a short tee barely covering their panties - if they had undergarments on at all - the front end driver was constantly rewarded. BBQ, seafood or cold, hard cash, it seemed as if everyone was attempting to beat the system. Private contracts were forged between the end customer and the purveyor of the service. The black market at work. Capitalism at its core.
However, your livelihood, insurance and reputation were all on the line if you were caught. Thus the need for exemplary service. Thus the requirement for exceptional compensation.
Most of us played the odds and gamed the system.
Waste Management's stock rose to a high of $30. I only remember because of the day it was cut in half!
Kevin would come in every morning and give an update on the upward trajectory of the stock which most of us had in our 401k. Luckily some of us had a few pennies socked away in a Vanguard fund that tracked the S & P.
Not Kevin. He was a lifer! Even after his heart attack he came back to work for the company that gave him so much.
Kevin had quit high school to support his family after his Dad died. He worked his way up through the company and put all of his chips on black, WMI.
Kevin wasn't betting on the market. He was betting on people like himself.
Hard working. Honest. Capable.
He was months away from retirement.
Once again I came in hungover. I didn't check out the money honeys on CNBC because I had never heard of them. Nor was I in tune with the daily fluctuations. I was in it for the long haul.
Let's just say my chips were on red.
Bloodshot eyes. The red light district.
People with my particular personality disorder live for the moment, because of a sense of misplaced optimism and a strong survival instinct.
"What the fuck is wrong with you this morning?"
"Johnny, it was cut in half!!"
"Dude, what are you talking about?"
Kevin never took payment for extra service. In fact, he did not even give it away. He was the type of driver that would radio the office and make sure the customer was charged retail for the extra dump. He would patiently wait while you reloaded the eight yard can.
Kevin had ethics. Morals. A strong work ethic. He did not take shortcuts.
Too bad the management at the highest levels of our company were not more like Kevin.
Luckily, for them, the scoundrels with golden parachutes were not charged for their criminal actions. Cooking the books!
They were let go. Who knows if they landed other jobs, retired to their beach house or opened a consulting firm?
I only know what Kevin did. Kevin died right after WMI hit a low of around $7. He left behind a wife, three kids and a 401k plan that was one quarter what it once was.
Watching Kevin caused me to watch the market. It would be a few years before my first trade. It has been a few years since my last trade. It will be a few years before my next trade.
That's okay. I have time. I know how to do time. How? Live in the moment.
In the meantime, I remember the Alamo.
The end of bull markets bring action:
- Stocks are the talk of the town, not bitcoin.
- Initial public offerings set records as people cash in on the mania.
- I witnessed from afar the dot com boom.
- I participated and got whooped up by the oil Gods at the end of that mania.
I am not calling a top in bitcoin, but I would probably cash in quite a few chips - if I had any - between now and the day bitcoin futures are offered next year. Average out, if you will.
However, my love is the stock market. To be accurate, my passion turned many years ago to playing the indices via the eminis.
Leverage. The elusive goose with platinum eggs!
But here is what I remember about the Alamo(s).
There is a ton of money to be made at the very end of bull markets and the relatively short period when the bear comes out of hibernation.
The bull has room to run and I just want to be there at the end. Jump on his back for the final eight seconds. Take a few bruises for the glory that comes with risk. Be ready for the riches that await when the bear devours good and bad companies alike.
We are not there, yet. Not even close!
