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Three areas where financial advisors need to be engaging more with their clients
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The autumn chill is clinging to my jeans as I walk up to the coffee shop, silently hoping for a table inside so that I don’t have to shiver my way through this meeting. I’m out of luck – the coffee-special-early-birds have claimed their nine-buck fix and taken up residence at all of the cosy tables – so I’ll grab a condensation-laden table outside. I don’t know this financial planner that I’m about to meet, but my dad recommended I meet with him.
I’d rather be home in bed still, snuggling with my wife. Our two dogs. Three cats. And don’t forget the kids. The sun isn’t even fully awake yet.
His receptionist sounded nice enough over the phone when she confirmed the meeting, although I could hear that she was busy and I was still merely a name on her to-do list. A ‘prospect’ is what I think they call us. I check my calendar app to confirm I’m at the right place.
He arrives shortly after my coffee and quickly places his order too. He’s well-dressed – has the pen and the watch too. He looks important and I get the feeling that he feels important too. I can’t help but feel a little jealous at how he seems to have it all together, like he stepped out of 40 laps in the gym pool this morning looking like that. Maybe I should trust him with my money?
He starts with the expected small talk about the one thing we currently have in common – my dad. He talks about the cricket this weekend and some golf tour that was apparently happening. He assumes I like sport. Does he actually know my dad?
I zone out for a few seconds as I appreciate the warm flat-white that’s going down like a home-sick mole. As he starts digging in his dark-brown leather courier bag for a pile of pages that ruins that last gulp of coffee, I come back to the moment and hear him talking about his process – which I’ve now missed entirely. We’ll need to sign some forms (because that’s the legal thing to do) before he can have a look at all of my current insurance products – and if we could please start off by discussing how much money I earn and any assets I have. Also – I mustn’t worry that I don’t have my latest bank statements with me, his receptionist is new and probably forgot to ask me to print these out and bring them along. Do I know how much I want to retire with, he asks casually?
My stomach churns and I regret making this meeting so early on a Tuesday morning. I don’t know him, and I’m feeling that perhaps I don’t like him. I could have stayed in bed and he could have finished his 50 laps.
But I should trust him?
How is it that we’re always told to keep our money affairs private, but now I’m supposed to open up to this guy with his slick hair and iPad Air that he can barely use. I tried Googling him last night and didn’t find anything helpful. I even tried Facebook and LinkedIn with even less success.
Sorry… he was on LinkedIn! Although his profile had a picture that looks like it was taken on his wedding day (so at least I know he was married at some point) and it says he sells Vuma energy drinks. (He may or may not still do that…)
My distracting thoughts fade again as he’s handing me the pen to sign something called an effenay, that must be an important form for financial planners – I’m pretty sure I did one of these with the last two guys too. I check the figures to make sure they’re all lower than reality, I can’t afford to let him think I have money to burn. I sign it. How did 55 minutes pass so quickly?
Perhaps I get distracted too easily – or perhaps I just don’t like financial advisors. Wow – I’m being so critical. Let me offer to pay for coffee and thank him for his time.
He heads off to his next meeting, he was already on the phone to that client (or are they also a prospect?) letting them know he’s running a little late.
He hasn’t asked me about my wife, my kids or my animals. At least the sun is fully awake.
