Paradoxically, as I near the end of a long and spectacularly mediocre career as a trading therapist, I been privileged to discover an entirely new syndrome: the Serene Trader.
This has not been altogether without pain, however, as I stumbled upon it while inquiring of lapsed clients why they had not sought my bumbling counsel lately. I heard many excuses:
"I find myself unexpectedly unemployed (the wife prefers that I say I'm retired)."
"I finally looked at the estimated retirements benefits the Social Security Administration sends me every year, and thought, fuck it!"
"My grown children sent me an annotated actuarial table as a gentle hint, accompanied by pitiful scrawled pleas from my grandchildren."
"I recently completed a 95 column spreadsheet with every imaginable aspect of retirement cash flow carried down to an unreasonably optimistic life expectancy, and found that my wife is going to be able to party down long after I am gone."
But I am wise to patients' clever evasions. So I dug deeper. "How is your trading going?", I asked:
"I cut down from three screens to one."
"I took off my chart anything that averaged anything."
"I ditched all those exotic volume studies."
"I started remotely mentoring aspiring female traders in exchange for lewd photos, and found that I had to sharpen my trading game to keep up the bluff."
"No matter how hard I look, I haven't seen any new phenomena in the past few months."
"I automated all my decision making so all that thinking doesn't hurt my head."
"I had to put audible alerts on my trade calls because I found myself micronapping."
"My eyesight isn't so good as it once was, so I took all the wiggly lines off my chart, and Eureka!"
"I have a lot of time on my hands, so I went back to the first trading book I ever read (Elder), and suddenly it made sense!"
"I quit reading ET, and stick exclusively to porn surfing when I get pissy."
"I set my IB screen up for one trade only, spend it wisely, and I am done for the day."
So in composite, there you have him: The Serene Trader. Does he make money? Yes, but probably only because he doesn't give a shit any more.
This has not been altogether without pain, however, as I stumbled upon it while inquiring of lapsed clients why they had not sought my bumbling counsel lately. I heard many excuses:
"I find myself unexpectedly unemployed (the wife prefers that I say I'm retired)."
"I finally looked at the estimated retirements benefits the Social Security Administration sends me every year, and thought, fuck it!"
"My grown children sent me an annotated actuarial table as a gentle hint, accompanied by pitiful scrawled pleas from my grandchildren."
"I recently completed a 95 column spreadsheet with every imaginable aspect of retirement cash flow carried down to an unreasonably optimistic life expectancy, and found that my wife is going to be able to party down long after I am gone."
But I am wise to patients' clever evasions. So I dug deeper. "How is your trading going?", I asked:
"I cut down from three screens to one."
"I took off my chart anything that averaged anything."
"I ditched all those exotic volume studies."
"I started remotely mentoring aspiring female traders in exchange for lewd photos, and found that I had to sharpen my trading game to keep up the bluff."
"No matter how hard I look, I haven't seen any new phenomena in the past few months."
"I automated all my decision making so all that thinking doesn't hurt my head."
"I had to put audible alerts on my trade calls because I found myself micronapping."
"My eyesight isn't so good as it once was, so I took all the wiggly lines off my chart, and Eureka!"
"I have a lot of time on my hands, so I went back to the first trading book I ever read (Elder), and suddenly it made sense!"
"I quit reading ET, and stick exclusively to porn surfing when I get pissy."
"I set my IB screen up for one trade only, spend it wisely, and I am done for the day."
So in composite, there you have him: The Serene Trader. Does he make money? Yes, but probably only because he doesn't give a shit any more.
