27/40 - Worst Advice Ever

I have received a lot of advice over the years. I have been very grateful for most of it. But there is absolutely one piece of advice that I remember receiving from my first boss that eventually put me in a really bad place early on in my career.

When I look back at how hard I had to work to come back from this advice, it actually gets me pretty angry. I know that I am the one who enacted it, the one to put it to work, but it came from the person I respected the most and who had been investing in me, so I followed along and executed his advice to the best of my ability.

I had no idea how many relationships it would later challenge or how many years it would take my credit score to recover.

"The only thing your clients will see is your car and your clothes. Spend all your money on a nice car and on a great wardrobe, everything else can wait."

Having had some early success in my career in the financial services business, I had been identified as someone worth investing in by management. I'd made them look good to the home office and even got notes from national leaders of the firm saying they'd "been hearing good things."

At our office, if you hit the first two major milestones of your training program in a certain amount of time, the managing partner would send his personal "clothier" to your office and get you measured for a custom suit. He'd also sell you a bunch of custom shirts, blinged-out cufflinks, and very thick ties while he was in the room. He'd tell you that this was the secret to the success of all the big guys in the firm and that he'd know, he works with them all.

After you had a custom suit made, you could tell who in the office hadn't yet. It was a signal to other senior members of the firm, this young guy is going places.

But your clothes weren't where it'd stop. When you drove into the parking garage, everyone who was anyone in the firm had a first-floor parking space that you had to drive past every day when you arrived at the office. It was a Robb Report collection of executive sedans from foreign automakers that screamed, "we've made it" and inspired me in my stick shift Mazada 626 to hurry up and "be somebody."

So when my car needed to have some work done to it, I decided to trade it in for as much as I could get and go to the nicest car dealership in Dallas and get a car that would look like it belonged in our firm's parking garage. Maybe not the first floor, but not so out of place on the second. I got a 2004 Infiniti G35 with all the bells and whistles. It immediately became the second-largest payment of my young professional's budget.

But it had the effect I'd hoped for and was even the subject of a speech given by the managing partner to some other new recruits.

"You want to know why you don't make a million dollars a year? Because you don't have a million dollar a year budget like I do. If you had more expenses, you'd work harder to make sure you could keep that lifestyle! Look at Andy, he just bought way more car than he needs, but you best believe he's gonna hit his numbers this year to make sure he can afford that car!"

And for the next couple years, I did. But then one day when I decided to take a new job, I still had my very expensive car and excessive wardrobe and let's just say it didn't end well.

Less than a year later after leaving the firm, I woke up one morning to runs some errands before going on a business trip representing a new company I'd joined. When I walked outside I noticed my car wasn't in the spot I'd parked it the night before. My roommate at the time sometimes would take my car if his was in the shop of blocked in my another vehicle, so I didn't worry to much.

But when I went back upstairs and asked him about it, he said he hadn't left the apartment since the day before. I walked around our whole gated apartment complex and there were no signs of my car. Not knowing what else to do, I called the police to see if there had been any reports of a stolen vehicle.

"Mr. Ellwood, your car wasn't stolen, it was repossessed by the bank for late payments."

That was the first time I hit rock bottom. (It wouldn't be the last.)

In hindsight, there is a lot that I wish I'd done differently to make sure I didn't end up in that situation. I'd have done anything in hindsight to not have to ask my Dad for a loan to be able to get my car out of the impound. I'd never known what cognitive dissonance was so clearly when I was working for a luxury travel company and representing them at high profile events the following week but showing up in a cab and trying to appear like I had it all together, but really I have less than $100 in my bank account and my car was days away from being given back to the bank.  

In hindsight, the better advice came from my dentist when he told me,

"The only people in Dallas who care what kind of car you drive are people who live in apartments."

The $30,000 millionaire was(is) a status game that Dallas played better than most places I've visited or lived in my life. I played, took some chances, and lost.