Since our Take the Long View® strategy calls for a level-headed mindset and evidence-based rationale, I am disciplined about keeping emotions out of the mix. But sometimes, even I have to vent. For example, my outrage seems well-placed when it comes to exposing dark players who pose as financial “advisors” while they prey on those who can least afford it. When that happens, the real damage is done if we calmly ignore what’s going on.

We work in an industry with an insanely low bar to entry. As I covered in my book, Odds On, I’ve personally witnessed how many of the big-name brokerage firms prize their sales quotas over solid client care and education. In any industry, a convergence of greed and incompetence is ugly. In wealth management, it can be life-shattering.

That makes me mad. Through our own experiences and in speaking with investors, we see the damage done far more often than you’ll read about in the papers. Yes, regulators have been known to levy millions, if not billions of dollars in fines against the worst offenders, but is it working?

Consider this recent article from personal finance columnist Tara Siegel Bernard. It makes me sick to my stomach to read that a “sandwich generation” daughter had to discover her ailing mother’s broker was quietly extracting roughly 10% in annual commissions from Mom’s account (compared to an industry norm of closer to 1%). In financial speak, that’s known as “churning,” or buying and selling just to turn a profit at the investor’s expense.

Worse, at least when Bernard published her piece, the offending broker was still employed at the same firm. The firm’s response? Bernard reports: “In a statement, [it] said, ‘The client agreed to an appropriate resolution of this matter in June.’ The firm said it was committed to doing the right thing for its clients, and was ‘disappointed when any feel their expectations haven’t been met.’”

What a ridiculous response!

Through the years, I’ve heard from many in our industry with their own tales, which sync with my experiences. The common thread is selfish salesmanship. Today there are thousands of independent investment advisory firms, all of whom are held to a fiduciary standard. While even that can’t prevent a criminal bent on malfeasance, it’s a step in the right direction.

Things are getting better, but it’s time more investors start choosing true financial advocates, not just the family relation, nice neighbor or daughter’s affable softball coach. It’s time to fire the entrenched, big-name brokers who don’t have to (and often don’t) represent your highest financial interests. It’s time to lead with questions such as: Is our relationship always fiduciary?

If the answer is anything besides, “Yes, always,” or if the written version is accompanied by an asterisk and a bunch of fancy legal footwork, it’s time for you to say no. You deserve better.

PS: Check out our related press release about Hillfolio, and how we’re working hard to bring “better” to an even wider range of investors.

If money could talk, what would it have to say about you and your family? Would it be a happy participant at your dinner table, or more like an uninvited guest?

Back in 2009, I was incredibly lucky to meet Marilyn Wechter, MSW, a financial therapist and wealth counselor who has dedicated her career to helping families create healthier relationships with money and among themselves. Former colleague Mont Levy introduced the two of us, and I distinctly remember what he said to me then: If there was ever an investment professional who would be comfortable taking advice from a therapist, I was the guy.

Mont was right. Meeting Marilyn was not only one of the most important events in my life, it also has directly influenced our approach here at Hill Investment Group, helping us facilitate many otherwise-challenging financial conversations among families.

Sorry if it seems like I’m gushing, but it’s hard to overstate my enthusiasm for Marilyn’s work. Most recently, we hosted a mid-February client event with her in Houston: “How To Have the Money Talk With Children of Any Age.”

Together, we explored:

• How can we give generously to our children or others without undermining their self-determination?
• How can we normalize money discussions, so “wealth” doesn’t feel so otherworldly?
• What are good, conversation-generating questions to ask intended heirs, so you can better connect the potential wealth with their higher goals?

Marilyn has a way of helping you connect dots. Once the new mental and emotional connections are made, it feels impossible to ever unknow the new story or frame. If I’ve whetted your appetite for more, you may enjoy reading my more extensive description of the impact she’s had on my own life. You’ll find that by picking up a copy of Odds On and turning to page 179.

I’ll close with a teaser excerpt from the book:

I started bringing Marilyn into our office four times a year to speak to Hill Investment Group’s employees. Her insight and guidance helped us take our approach to another level. She’s taught us how to be better listeners and how to pick up emotional cues. … It might sound simple, but it made an incredible difference in how we were connecting with clients. Before we met Marilyn, we didn’t keep tissues around our office. Now, we have a box of tissues on the table for every meeting. We’re not trying to make our clients cry, but we often end up touching on memories from childhood, key relationships in their lives, and their hopes for the future.

Intrigued? Let us know if we can arrange an introduction.

Even though Thanksgiving is over (except for a few leftovers) I hope to keep being thankful for life’s many ongoing twists and turns. That’s why I keep a golf ball in my overcoat throughout the year. It may look like just an ordinary object, but it’s special to me, because it reminds me of how grateful I am to be part of Hill Investment Group.

Similar to the experiences Matt Hall shared in Odds On, I too started my financial career in a sales-oriented culture. We’ll call my first gig “Big Broker,” where we were taught how to sell financial wares via cold-calls and door-to-door canvassing. The bulk of our so-called education was on how to overcome any objections, instead of on what it takes to be a worthy advisor.

In other words, just about everything I learned at Big Broker was exactly the opposite of the Hill Investment Group culture, where we strive to center everything we do around our clients’ highest financial interests.

So, what’s that golf ball got to do with it? Back in my Big Broker days, we were shown how to use it to save our knuckles during our sales outings. If you’ve ever knocked on a lot of doors in all kinds of weather, you learn quickly how much that can hurt. On the good days, I’d end up knocking a couple hundred times, delivering my canned speech dozens of times, and generating one or two good leads. On some of my worse days, I was bitten by dogs, pooped on by birds and stung by bees.

Maybe I deserved it for pestering people in their homes, whether or not they wanted an uninvited guest.

As you might imagine, whenever I stopped to think about it (which started happening with increasing frequency!), I thought, “There’s got to be a better way to help people invest their hard-earned assets.”

Thankfully, I discovered that better way when I came across HIG in 2012. Reading through the materials they shared with me, I was immediately hooked … to the point where I was late for a dinner outing because I had to finish reading about this amazing “new” perspective. It was new to me, anyway. Then I was up early the following Saturday to read some more. I call this my “Light Bulb Moment,” which we shared in this 2015 video:

John Reagan: His Light Bulb Moment from Hill Investment Group.

Unfortunately, the Michael Lewis piece I reference in this video is out of print and no longer available. But there are plenty of other great resources published since then to take its place. Let us know if you could use some assistance in generating your own light bulb moment. I’d be happy to help, and grateful to share what else I’ve learned after I got to tuck my cold-call golf ball away for good.