Online Stock Trading

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away (when I was in school), I learned how to hate something with shocking effectiveness: group projects. In fact, I am so effective at it now, that I can translate my incompatibility with it into the defining benefit of solitary production. Beautiful, untarnished circular logic. Solitary work is so good, because group work is simply so bad. It got so bad, in fact, that I would cringe immediately after hearing of an imminent task that required such a structure in order for it to be done. Since then it has occurred to me that that feeling was from the sensation of being set up to fail, or being forced against my nature to settle for less.

The benefits of teamwork are often derived from the following generalization: If John is very good at math, only, and Susan is good at writing, primarily, and Bob is good at doing research, more than his other talents, then together, they can produce a product that includes accurate math, is written well, and has credibility.

But that was only until Steve showed up who was better than the others in all areas. No matter where Steve is asked to contribute he will always get the feeling that things just didn’t add up, that flare was simply largely absent, and that he wanted to just about throw up because of that awful e-mail interview with an Aunt that was used as a source.

Supporters of group work have only one strong argument against this: the limitations that time places on results. The priority of completion makes secondary the magnitude of greatness. If the professional, sophisticated PowerPoint presentation can’t get done in time, then poster board and magic markers will simply have to do. In a “school-time”, practice-run, fake-real-project, Steve might just be able to pull it all off. But not in some company. His only partial vindication would come from being in a leadership role where, in what time he did have, he could still stick his fingers in everything—but nevertheless, he would still have to settle with the results given to him from those participating under him. He would have to have talents besides his talents. He would have to be able to mold, teach and delegate. Gone is the math, writing and research. He has people who do that for him now. But any partial vindication is always an incomplete one. Always a bit unsavory.

But the stock market is The New World of the Old World. Better set of rules. For men like Steve. There can still be seen little reflections of the Old World though. Places where the other rules are still sought out. Places like mutual funds (no offense to 401K participants). It’s where a bit piece chump change stares eye to eye with a millionaire. Everything’s just a percentage point. A gain is a gain; a trade, a trade. Time is irrelevant, and with it is the only good argument. It’s why men like Steve like the stock market. He doesn’t have to settle. His fate is his. It’s a place where he needs no help, and wouldn’t want it anyways.

It’s a place where Steve can blast through all the easy parts and slow dance all the sweet, more challenging ones. It’s where he can innovate and not have to listen to reservations. He can do his own cost-benefit analysis and cast aside the wasted time spent exposing all the flaws in someone else’s.

It’s where, when he gets that ‘A’, or gets that project approval, he can enjoy it by himself. He doesn’t have to be satisfied because “it was good enough.” It’s the place where, finally, compensation is fully equitable. It’s where Steve can, once and for all, be that perfectly undiluted, untainted, unfettered, and free man, Steve.