My amazingly destructive financial powers are legendary. I caused the silver market to crash simply by buying a role of dimes. I caused the gold market to crash by buying a single Krugerrand. I caused the Hawaii POG market to crash by having 125,000 surfer POGS manufactured.
But last week was my coup de gras. Here's what happened:
I opened a Charles Schwab account that allows me to purchase stock directly through my computer at home. My wife, knowing that my awesome powers of destruction could bring down Wall Street if I were simply unleashed on the financial markets, allowed me only to put a little "play money" into my Schwab account. I had to promise not to invest in any major companies responsible for the military protection of our country or any companies whose products are needed for world peace and the general well-being of large numbers of human beings.
Like a lap dog being given half a Milk Bone, I happily agreed and went to work.
I invested in a couple of small oil companies, one of which works mainly in Central America. This had the unexpected result of putting Iraq-U.S. oil-for-food talks back on track, leading to a dramatic decline in the price of a barrel of light sweet crude.
Then I heard about a little high-tech company called Comparator Systems who's stock had soared from a few cents to $1.50 a share. I hungrily tried to call up the company's stock symbol on my computer. No luck. So I called Charles Schwab central on the mainland.
The guy on the other end of the line said, yes, they had heard of Comparator, but said they had rated it highly speculative. I said I had a few bucks in my account and wanted to get in on the action. They guy said, no, he
couldn't let me do that.
"This is ridiculous!" I said. "I got this computer program and account so I could dabble in the market. I've got the money and I want to dabble in this company and you won't let me?"
"Let me ask you a few questions first," he said.
HE asked me about my net worth, my assets, dependents and debts. After a moment, he said, "Nope, can't let you do it."
I said, "This is crazy! I've never heard of brokers refusing to broke! I want this stock!"
He took a second to talk to his manager and then returned.
"Nope, can't do it."
I screamed some more. He talked to his manager again.
"OK," he said. "You can do it. But you'd have to buy 2,000 shares."
"Let's do it!" I said happily. "Put in the order and I'll get the money down to the Schwab office this afternoon."
"Nope," he said. "We've got to have the money in hand before we put in the order."
I was furious. I drove to work determined to take the money out of the credit union and make this trade.
I got to work and told the business section about the bizarre morning. We looked up some wire stories and found out Comparator already was suffering the early signs of Memminger Mad Money-Cow Disease. By that afternoon, the NASDAQ had suspended trading on the company. A day later the Securities and Exchange Commission stepped in an ordered an investigation. Shortly after that, investors sued Comparator.
While the company still is in business, it is wobbling from the recent barrage of legal blows. I have only two things to say. First, Comparator, you're just lucky I didn't actually buy any shares or you'd be filing your Chapter 7 petition right now. And two, thank you Charles Schwab, you're my kind of broker.
