“Please, quit smoking. Smoking is bad for your health,” my sister Ann said to me at the funeral of our uncle Peter.
In truth, my uncle had passed away from injuries sustained in a major car accident. But funerals have a way of making everyone think about their health.
“Of course, I’ll quit,” I said.
But I was lying. I liked smoking. It helped me cope with stress.
Soon after, it was my birthday, and Ann arrived with a peculiar smile.
“I brought you a present,” she said with a mirky smile, handing me a large box.
It was unusual. Ann’s gifts were typically predictable: T-shirts for birthdays and sweaters for Christmas. When the party was over, I opened the box. Inside was a small cage housing a parrot. The label on the cage read: Talking Parrot. As it turned out, this “talking parrot” could only say two words: Quit smoking. But it repeated them constantly.
Morning? “Quit smoking.”
Breakfast? “Quit smoking.”
Back from work? “Quit smoking.”
With my girlfriend? “Quit smoking.”
For weeks, the parrot tormented me. It invaded every moment of my life, screeching its relentless mantra: Quit smoking!
I started smoking even more – two packs a day instead of one – to deal with the stress.
Watching football on TV, my one escape, was no longer enjoyable. The parrot squawked through every game. One night, I dreamed my favorite football player scored an incredible 200-yard touchdown. But instead of cheering touchdown, the crowd roared, “Quit smoking.” I woke up in despair.
The next day at work, my boss asked a serious question.
“We’re borrowing too much money. Should we quit?”
Without thinking, I blurted out: “Quit smoking.”
My boss, a heavy smoker himself, glared at me.
“I didn’t ask for personal advice!” he snapped.
I returned home drained. And, of course, the parrot greeted me with its usual enthusiasm: Quit smoking! That evening, after chain-smoking three cigarettes, I finally snapped.
“You’re an idiot!” I yelled at the parrot.
“Quit smoking,” it replied.
“You’re an idiot!”
“Quit smoking!”
For two hours, we argued. Both were hoarse by the end, and I went to bed utterly defeated.
In the morning, the parrot greeted me with a surprising twist:
“You’re an idiot,” it said.
“Eureka! I am a smart person. When a parrot learns new words, it forgets old ones! If I could teach the parrot something pleasant to say, maybe my life could return to normal.” I thought.
I began repeating to the parrot the words: “I like you.”
Within days, my life transformed.
“I like you,” the parrot chirped every morning and evening.
My mood brightened. The constant positivity worked wonders. As I became happier, my need for cigarettes dwindled. I smoked less and less until one day; I didn’t need them at all.
In the end, I quit smoking – not because of nagging, but because happiness gave me the strength to overcome it. When someone is happy, he can conquer any challenge.
Adventure is often about traveling far to find treasure – or at least, that’s what books and movies teach us. Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson. National Treasure, with Nicolas Cage in the lead. Inspired by such stories, I wanted adventure and a chance to find treasure. In 2008, I found myself far away – in the USA, a 10-hour flight from Moscow. But where was my treasure?
I read about 16th-century Spanish ships laden with gold, resting deep off Florida’s coast. Finding one sounded thrilling but uncertain. Then, to my surprise, I discovered that treasure existed right on land, complete with an address and zip code. It was the U.S. Department of the Treasury. You didn’t need to dive deep into the ocean – you just needed a stockbroker.
Eager to learn, I visited TD Ameritrade, where a broker named Jack explained that the Department of the Treasury didn’t hold gold or diamonds. They didn’t even deal with physical paper anymore. Instead, they issued government bonds electronically, offering modest annual returns of 2—3%.
“If you want real treasure,” Jack said,” you need to try the stock market. Buy the right stocks at the opening bell. And by the closing bell, you might be a millionaire. How does that sound?”
“Money is freedom,” I replied.” Your voice sounds like the Liberty Bell in Philadelphia.”
When I asked for stock recommendations, Jack reminded me that TD Ameritrade was a discount brokerage.
“We don’t give advice,” we only take your money.
Undeterred, I searched for stocks myself. I decided to buy Lehman Brothers stocks. The name “Brothers” resonated with me. It evoked camaraderie and reliability. In my mind was the film Band of Brothers, which I had recently watched. I bought their shares at $40 each.
Two weeks later, the stock price plummeted to $2. Soon after, it became worthless. Lehman Brothers declared bankruptcy, and the Great Recession was underway. While others called it “great”. I certainly didn’t feel that way. I took a second job working the night shift at a gas station to recover my losses.
“Have a good day,” I greeted a customer during a night shift.
