Alone, without a penny to my name, I finally learned that lesson.

These days, I don’t talk to anyone and nobody talks to me either. I stand here on the side of the road with my sign; watching the people pull up to the intersection. I walk the row of cars when the light is red and trudge back to my spot when it’s green. Day after day, I walk quietly up the median with my cardboard condemnation.

A few years ago, I had it all; a Wall Street tycoon that hit it big when my company went “public”. My stock market shares skyrocketed to levels previously unknown. Everyone wanted to be my friend then; everyone wanted the latest scoop, and I was always more than willing to give it.

“Buy this! Sell that!” When I talked everyone listened. I had a knack for knowing the “ins and outs” of the industry. What I said would happen, happened and people loved me for my advice. Everyone that is, except for my brother Edward. Edward told me I talked too much, but I didn’t care.

My sign? When E. F. Hutton talked, I didn’t listen.