How The Money Matters Club Was Born

Once upon a time ago... The Money Matters Club was born out of necessity and evolved into a passion.

If you've known me for years, or you're just joining The Club, welcome! We must share either the same necessity or the same passion in common: money.

I was offered a job in 2005 to teach a multi-national high-tech workforce about their employer stock benefits plan when I had never owned a stock before. This is the same employer who five years prior had doubled my pre-Y2K and post-college income to come teach their troupe of Mensa members, Ph.Ds., and whiz kids how to use the telephones (a new bridge system they were implementing for worldwide collaboration and meetings). I thought to myself, aren't these people computer scientists? What?

So, they handed me lots of responsibility and lot of shares of their company stock for my trouble too. I figured out I was set to be a millionaire in six years once all that stock would vest. As long as they never figure out I don't belong there.

Enter Burst One. [<-- a placeholder for another blog I'll write for you one day about the impact the Dot Com Bubble Burst had on me, bursting my own bubble, and shaping my views of money in that fateful last year of being a twenty something on this earth trying to survive corporate America.]

Walking my company halls, five years after they badged me, (I never thought I'd even last a year), and shortly after accepting their new daunting charge of now teaching their workforce about their stock benefits, the words, "Want to Join an Investment Club?" caught my eye appearing in bold face on a fluorescent flier pinned cockeyed on a cork bulletin board on my way to the bathroom. Could this be how I learn about stock?

I memorized the flier's instructions and showed up to the correct room. On time!

Shoot, I noticed I was the only woman. (She wonders to herself, in this parenthetical, does it ever occur to the men when they're the only man in a room?) Five-ish men were already in the best seats talking to each other about fundamentals and how to analyze a stock. Or something. One man during those early club days asked if anyone knew if our company stock plan administrator allowed covered puts and calls on our company stock options. I paraphrase from memory a lot. But I do remember I agreed to go find out and return the answer. The group met once a week over lunch. I had a week.

Stock Image of a sole woman in a business meeting with four to five professional men.

I had switched from contacts to eye glasses by then to appear smarter and to fit in. I didn't want them knowing I wasn't smart enough to be in that room, in my corporate stock comms and training job role, in the know about puts and calls, to pick my 401(k) line up without asking a friend what he picked, or to even be employed at our amazing company who claimed regularly to only hire the "best and the brightest."

Imposter Syndrome is real. This is not a blog about imposter syndrome.

By the next investment club meet up, I knew about stock, had read our employer's stock plan's fine print, and had the answers the club sought. We couldn't. (Exercise any covered puts and calls against our company stock benefits.) Now they knew too. A company doesn't want its employees betting against its stock or betting as insiders. Plus puts and calls are risky business for anyone. Any responsible employer is going to disallow them in their stock plan, IMO.

Rinse. Repeat. For weeks, I'd show up in that room. And I'd listen to the men talk about all things stock. I'd go off and come back smarter than I used to be week on week. Until one day the man who had hung the fluorescent flier announced he'd be leaving, was deploying with the Air Force somewhere. He asked us, "would anyone be willing to keep the Investment Club going?" This meant reserving the conference rooms, sending the invites to the members' calendars, and hanging the fliers. The men looked at each other. At their shoes. At me. Or maybe I just spurted out "sure, I'll do that," before giving any of them enough of a chance to raise their own hands. Awkward silence can last only mere milliseconds with me in the room.

This isn't either a feminist diatribe about how tech workforces tend to look to the women for the secretarial and party planning task support. I'm actually grateful I volunteered to be the club's calendar keeper who grabbed the baton from that young man. I wish I could remember that reservist's name to find him again and thank him for his service to our country, for hanging that flier, and for the opportunity he gave this then-young, now-older-and-wiser gal to lead.

I have learned so much. The whole experience has made me realize I'm as cut out as most anyone to empower others to live their best financial life.

And so are you.

So, for lots more weeks which became years, we grew that little club from about six of us to nearly six thousand over the following decade and a half, by sharing information and answering questions. We learn together, casually, with everyone who keeps showing up.

Until now, these discussions have been moated by our company's firewalls. You're now welcome to join in from anywhere and invite anyone you care about to join in too! Welcome.

I Want to Join The Money Matters Club!

Because money matters,

el