Paying a visit to the financial advisor is an annual thing to do, just like a medical check and the car service. You might imagine a Captain Mainwearing character (think Dad’s Army) in his wood panelled rooms with the smell of pipe tobacco and manual typewriters clattering away in the nearby general office.
Far from it.
We arrived a few minutes late and no doubt a junior member of staff was instructed to park elsewhere to make room for visiting clients. This time we were in the Lexus which was more at home with the two Director’s even posher cars having their batteries recharged. It should be noted, however, this is the first time we have been there in the Lexus. Ordinarily it would have been in my 17 year old Toyota, or Rachel’s Honda Jazz, also quite elderly and these cars have always made a suitable statement at their offices.
They know I like decent coffee and this was duly served with Denby crockery and a variety of individually wrapped biscuits. We were not in a smoke filled museum of a room. Instead these are modern offices which are almost paperless and very, very quiet. Just the occasional buzz of a mobile phone or the click of a mouse.
Our advisor and his assistant were suitably dressed for us, clearly in casual mode in their chinos and polo shirts having anticipated my attire of jeans and a casual shirt. I dare say they change their attire for the more prosperous clientele. Perhaps even the grade of biscuit would go up a notch? Having said that, to my surprise I understand we are no longer their poorest clients, having had that label for many, many years. Moreover we are apparently “special” as only certain “special” clients have the benefit of a certain spreadsheet with incomprehensible formulas hidden deeply behind the scenes (this predicts our cashflow until we are aged 100).
Our meeting room has the usual corporate posters, a modern decor and a large screen on the wall with layers of spreadsheets and a database with our funds in all their details. The script was followed as you can imagine; the small talk, the laughs and then down to business.
Just as the “down to business” was getting started our doorbell sounded on Rachel’s phone. It was our doorbell at home. This now is about as far away from Captain Mainwearing’s office as you could possibly get – and almost as random. You see we were having a delivery of a large supply of toilet rolls, tissues and kitchen rolls.
“This” said Rachel “is good value for us, it’s a bargain and I’ve ordered a year’s supply for the six of us”. Sure enough, the delivery driver was duly asked to simply leave all of the boxes in our front porch. Although a brief conversation via our doorbell, the interruption did cause the odd eyebrow to twitch along with a stifled smile. We did wonder how the AI dictation device would interpret all of this [EDIT – actually, very well indeed] and whether it would understand who was talking. Again, this is about as far away from the 1950s scene as you could probably imagine.
The upshot of these two hours talk of tax, markets, Donald Trump and risk management was quite a relief. You see I always get a bit jumpy, just like in the days when I’d be having my appraisal interview at work; I always knew it would be okay but I’d still talk myself into worrying about it.
So I’m pleased to report we can maintain our standard of living. This is something I am always so grateful for as retiring at 56 was such a big step for me, with a little uncertainty about finances mixed in with health concerns. You can find some of those early posts on my blog, back in 2018, when I was excited about retiring but a tad nervous. Many prayers have been answered, beyond what I could have imagined.