The Petrodollar?

I invested the last hour or so of my life writing, rewriting, and refining a cold, analytical post on what the shakiness, and possible fracture, of the petrodollar system might mean for mortgage rates.

The return on that investment?

That first sentence.

That’s it.

I’m hitting delete on the rest of it.

The post was cold. Clinical.

And it overlooked something more important.

The very real emotions that come with a situation (the one tied to the petrodollar) that feels like it’s spiralling out of, and back into, control… day by day, week by week.

More than a few of you, over the past week of outbound calls, shared how hard it is to focus on something as mundane as ‘making your calls’ or ‘processing an application’ when you have loved ones in harm’s way.

My response was maybe too simplistic:

‘Then don’t make your calls’

Take an hour off.
Take a day off.

If you can afford it, take a week. Maybe a month.

If you can’t afford that, then do the opposite.

Assign yourself focused blocks of time where you avoid the news, avoid social media, and just do the work.

Call your clients.
Call your referral partners.
Call your lenders.

Do what needs to be done.

Then step away again.

Compartmentalize.

Find distractions other than social media or the news.

Build an epic karaoke playlist.
Go for a walk, get some sunshine on that face, or rain, or blowing snow... it's April in Canada - who knows!
Rediscover trashy romance novels.

If you’re into audiobooks, download Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir and get lost in some fictional, collaborative problem-solving.

It can’t be all work, all the time.
It can’t be all worry, all the time.
It can’t be all crying, all the time.

I’ll leave you with this.

Thursday, I was walking briskly through YVR.

A father jogged past me with a six-year-old trying to keep up.

A few seconds later, a four-year-old came by, leading his mom, with a baby strapped to her chest.

The baby?

Giggling.

Giggling loudly.
Giggling uncontrollably.
Giggling profusely.

I picked up my pace, fell in behind them, listened and watched.

I watched heads turn from every direction.
Left. Right.

Every single face smiling.

Smiling wider smiles than they'd maybe smiled in days. Weeks. Months.

Mom turned left.

I exited toward the train.

The giggling faded.

The mood returned to normal.

My thought:

Man… every airport needs more moms jogging with giggling babies.

To be fair, the train could’ve used one.

West Georgia could’ve used one.

Most of the world could use one.

And so, I hope this week you find some peace, some clients, and just maybe a giggling kid.

Maybe that family connecting through YVR are your clients?
They for sure should have a Broker in their life.
We could all use them in ours.

Be well.

DW