lines can haunt you

2007-02-15

I look east and see Andrew Corsini smiling at me

The suits are firmly in control, and I am outside looking in. There were no chains on the door, no denunciations shouted up from the wet sidewalk. My heady expectation of a great hall with hundreds of angry shareholders is completely dashed. I wanted the tearing up of now worthless paper; I wanted the smell of small fires of burning proxy. Of bedlam, sadly, there is none.

We are in an office tower in downtown Vancouver. Should downtown be capitalized? I can never remember. The meeting is on the fourteenth floor, which is actually the thirteenth floor, because we are superstitious, because we are stupid. Is it a sign? Perhaps, but anyone invested in this company already feels unlucky. There aren't enough chairs in the tiny boardroom full of suits, so a nice bald man suggests I sit outside and read a magazine, maybe have a coffee. I do. A Chinese woman helps me connect to the internet. Chinese should definitely be capitalized.

I'm sitting in the lounge now, outside the tiny glass boardroom like a fish tank that holds the suits and my brother in it and I'm writing and listening to Matt Sweeney & Bonnie 'Prince' Billy and its killing me. Why did I not take Eskimo's advice and listen to them sooner? I'm addicted to a song. It's called 'My Home is the Sea' and it's true. My home is the sea. Before we shed its soft embrace and clambered up onto dry land we were made in the seas. And before that we were made in the furnace of the stars, but that's another story. Stardust or no, I'm not convinced leaving the seas was such a good idea.

The point is moot; here we are, the 'fourteenth' floor, downtown Vancouver. Let it be said: investing in a small resource company is a risky proposition. In fact, it's really not 'investing' per se; it's more like 'speculating', which is closer to gambling than investing. August of last year trading of this company's stock was frozen - not a good sign. An investigation follows, and whatever the weather outside, there is a constant storm brewing when investors feel they might be getting fleeced. You still own a part of a company, but that company is no longer allowed to do business. Is your stake in the company worth as much as before? Probably not, and the markets will tell us this when the cease-trade order is lifted and the share price gets knocked around for a bit.

My brother is in an unenviable position as a shareholder (commonly known as a bagholder in a situation like this - because you are one of many left holding the bag, of course). Does he sell his stock when the shares trade again? Undoubtedly, the price will decline. The market perceives greater risk and will apportion that risk into the price of a share. He might get out and get back in at a lower cost. But selling stock at a loss is psychologically difficult. It means actualizing a financial loss that only exists on paper up that point. Or he may hold on and perhaps buy more at a lower price. But there is an axiom that is meant to prevent such behaviour - 'never catch a falling knife.' Better to let the share price hit the floor first. And what of the increased risk? Is it worth throwing good money after bad? I feel for him. Whatever decision he makes will not be easy.

My own conscience is not free of these decisions of course. I have made many bad trades and will probably make many more. I consider it the cost of tuition. As with all things in life, you must learn from your mistakes, as they are often costly.

Suddenly there is action in the meeting room; fingers on hands go up to vote, and the meeting is adjourned. Again there is no destruction of paper or computers, no fisticuffs, no shouting. What is the point of going to these things if you can't throttle someone? I wanted to be the muscle here; I wanted to shove some people around. I wanted to shout 'RIOT!' and flee the scene like a criminal amidst the burning paper and seething faces. I wanted to laugh outside and buy a hotdog and give each other high-fives and say we'll get em next time.


Navigation previous entry next entry latest entry archives profile notes e-mail How lines can haunt you... Recent Forays 2009-03-10: The names 2008-05-21: in medias res 2007-11-14: The things I meant to write about: 2007-07-29: More than meets the eye 2007-04-13: Where the words have gone. Links Abroad in medias res Modern Drunkard Ftrain The Onion Exploding Dog McSweeney's Internet Tendency The National Pist Higher Blogs Palinode's Palace Schmutzie Friday Films Luvabeans Sprigs Fairlywell Dirty Laundry Boombasticat f-i-n jonquill Stray Sparrow Swordfern Pablo Ashahands Erasing		2007-02-15 I look east and see Andrew Corsini smiling at me The suits are firmly in control, and I am outside looking in. There were no chains on the door, no denunciations shouted up from the wet sidewalk. My heady expectation of a great hall with hundreds of angry shareholders is completely dashed. I wanted the tearing up of now worthless paper; I wanted the smell of small fires of burning proxy. Of bedlam, sadly, there is none. We are in an office tower in downtown Vancouver. Should downtown be capitalized? I can never remember. The meeting is on the fourteenth floor, which is actually the thirteenth floor, because we are superstitious, because we are stupid. Is it a sign? Perhaps, but anyone invested in this company already feels unlucky. There aren't enough chairs in the tiny boardroom full of suits, so a nice bald man suggests I sit outside and read a magazine, maybe have a coffee. I do. A Chinese woman helps me connect to the internet. Chinese should definitely be capitalized. I'm sitting in the lounge now, outside the tiny glass boardroom like a fish tank that holds the suits and my brother in it and I'm writing and listening to Matt Sweeney & Bonnie 'Prince' Billy and its killing me. Why did I not take Eskimo's advice and listen to them sooner? I'm addicted to a song. It's called 'My Home is the Sea' and it's true. My home is the sea. Before we shed its soft embrace and clambered up onto dry land we were made in the seas. And before that we were made in the furnace of the stars, but that's another story. Stardust or no, I'm not convinced leaving the seas was such a good idea. The point is moot; here we are, the 'fourteenth' floor, downtown Vancouver. Let it be said: investing in a small resource company is a risky proposition. In fact, it's really not 'investing' per se; it's more like 'speculating', which is closer to gambling than investing. August of last year trading of this company's stock was frozen - not a good sign. An investigation follows, and whatever the weather outside, there is a constant storm brewing when investors feel they might be getting fleeced. You still own a part of a company, but that company is no longer allowed to do business. Is your stake in the company worth as much as before? Probably not, and the markets will tell us this when the cease-trade order is lifted and the share price gets knocked around for a bit. My brother is in an unenviable position as a shareholder (commonly known as a bagholder in a situation like this - because you are one of many left holding the bag, of course). Does he sell his stock when the shares trade again? Undoubtedly, the price will decline. The market perceives greater risk and will apportion that risk into the price of a share. He might get out and get back in at a lower cost. But selling stock at a loss is psychologically difficult. It means actualizing a financial loss that only exists on paper up that point. Or he may hold on and perhaps buy more at a lower price. But there is an axiom that is meant to prevent such behaviour - 'never catch a falling knife.' Better to let the share price hit the floor first. And what of the increased risk? Is it worth throwing good money after bad? I feel for him. Whatever decision he makes will not be easy. My own conscience is not free of these decisions of course. I have made many bad trades and will probably make many more. I consider it the cost of tuition. As with all things in life, you must learn from your mistakes, as they are often costly. Suddenly there is action in the meeting room; fingers on hands go up to vote, and the meeting is adjourned. Again there is no destruction of paper or computers, no fisticuffs, no shouting. What is the point of going to these things if you can't throttle someone? I wanted to be the muscle here; I wanted to shove some people around. I wanted to shout 'RIOT!' and flee the scene like a criminal amidst the burning paper and seething faces. I wanted to laugh outside and buy a hotdog and give each other high-fives and say we'll get em next time. Tell me when this blog is updated email: