Many years ago, for a brief period during the 80's, I became severely addicted to books on investment. It was so bad that I read the print off the pages, in such a way that you would swear they had not seen the printing press.
Many impressed me. They seemed to have been written by very knowledgeable people whose mere style, not to mention the complexity of the contents, left you feeling like a midget. It was sheer awe. Here were these writers who had applied these wonderful formulas for financial success to their own lives, and yet now, quite unselfishly, were willing to sacrifice their precious time to show you the path to wealth. Philanthropy, I thought.
I was particularly taken up by a treatise on how to leverage your way into a real estate empire. If correctly followed, the method would enable you to have a legion of tenants covering your bond payments. As property prices increased, you could refinance your mortgages in order to acquire even more property. In the end, you could retire rich and delight in a sense of true achievement.
I would have followed the advice, if it were not for a flaw of character to which I readily admit. Whenever anything good happens to me, I'm inclined to stress the negative aspects. What if the tenants do not pay the rent? What if you have to go to court to evict them? What if they wreck the place and you have to refurbish? What if property prices do not continue to go up? What if, for some reason, the bank recalls the loan? What if? In the end, I did nothing.
If you also read the book and followed the advice, you are probably now begging for your dinner on the streets of New York. Cheer up! Not everything is negative, though. Take comfort in the thought that your purchase of the book helped the author pay off his mortgage in Beverly Hills.
