The Only Thing That Matters

“Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind.” - Nathaniel Hawthorne

This piece marks the 4-year anniversary of Invariant. I sincerely thank you and all other readers for helping make this publication something unique. I am more energized than ever to share and expound on countless ideas in the years to come.

Since inception, there has been no shortage of pieces that capture my fixation on duration and mortality, both outside of finance and within individual investments and broader portfolio construction. Add today’s piece to the list.

On Time

Defense is Offense

Rock On

The Fertile Grounds of Decay

Peak Performance

Forever is a Myth

Egon Schiele, Death and the Maiden, 1915, oil on canvas

As I began to write this, I was stuck in purgatory, experiencing the joyous tailend of a 17-hour overnight flight delay. I was not all too bothered. I am quite used to moving slowly. In fact, I prefer it, and can be plenty productive irrespective of location. Such delays, driven by mechanical issues, are far preferable to planes taking off without those issues having been resolved, no?

It was no surprise that other travelers weren’t so keen on the delay. Everyone was tired. Infants and small children took turns waking up to sing their displeasure. Connecting flights were severed. Luggage sat in limbo.

The one person smiling throughout was Earl, a member of the airline’s support team. He skipped his meal break to help ensure everyone received their hotel vouchers and made it to the shuttle. He was all business. As I stood in line, I watched as passengers took turns walking up to berate Earl, as if he personally sabotaged their travel plans. No matter what, he kept his smile. A true saint.

As I waited for my turn, I noticed the man standing in front of me. He was older and thin. His grey hair was carefully combed back. His polo was neatly tucked into his pressed slacks. Shoes polished. This was a man who cared about his appearance. It was unmistakable. Equally unmistakable was that this man, despite his well-kempt appearance, was visibly shaking.

Was this shaking the physical manifestation of his anger? Was it exhaustion? I did not know.

After Earl assisted me, I began my trek to the hotel shuttle pickup location. Just a few strides in front of me was the older man. It did not take long after reaching our rendezvous point to suspect that the 3-minute wait time was far from accurate.

As we waited, I struck up a conversation with the older gentleman. He had been in town for a technology conference. I shared that I had spent the last few days at a conference under the ever-ambiguous umbrella of ‘finance.’ He recalled that, although he was an engineer by trade, the few accounting courses he had taken were among his favorites.

At some point, I joked that I wasn’t the best at telling time, but that our supposed 3-minute wait felt quite long. Without missing a beat, the older man quipped, “Well, that’s concerning. Isn’t your profession all about understanding time? Figuring out what something is worth today vs. tomorrow? You should know how to tell time.”

We both chuckled. Well-spoken, he went on to discuss Net Present Value and the common pitfalls people face when calculating it. And then he said it:

“You know… time is the only thing that matters.”

He was still shaking, just as he was earlier when we were in line. That’s when he told me. He had Parkinson’s. I thought back to all the other passengers back at the airport terminal. They were all so upset. If there was one person who deserved to be angry, it was this man. But he wasn’t. He was composed and confident. His trip had already been delayed once. The extra 17-hour delay for our flight meant he was out of the medicine that kept his tremors at bay. The hotel we were heading to did not have a pool, which he needed for his physical therapy exercises. He would not be arriving home on time for the Father’s Day activities his children planned. He didn’t say it directly, but the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes made it clear he was wondering how many more Father’s Days he had left.

I knew it was futile, but nonetheless asked if there was anything I could do. There wasn’t. All there was to do was wait.

---

Questions or thoughts to add? Comment on the site or message me on Twitter.

Disclaimer

This publication’s content is for entertainment and educational purposes only. I am not a licensed investment professional. Nothing produced under the Invariant brand should be thought of as investment advice. Do your own research. All content is subject to interpretation.