I took my 10-year-old son along on a "trip of a lifetime" to Pebble Beach. He had recently taken up golf and was clinically giddy about the chance to play on the legendary course. The evening we arrived he asked if he could check out the pro shop, where I watched him gaze longingly at racks of Pebble Beach attire embroidered with the iconic cypress tree. Since the conference I was addressing was covering our lodging and green fees, I felt generous and offered to buy him the windbreaker he was drooling over. He hugged me endlessly with gratitude every couple of hours that day.
When we boarded an early morning flight to return home the next day, he sat down beside me proudly wearing this new (and shockingly expensive) windbreaker. I looked at him and smiled, then watched with increasing interest as he pulled out his tray and placed on it the box of french toast "sticks" he purchased for breakfast. Next came a plastic container of syrup sealed with tin foil. He pinched the corner of the foil and began struggling to pry open the syrup.
The more he struggled, the easier it was to envision what would happen next. Sure enough, when the adhesive on the foil gave way, the entire cover tore loose, and three ounces of maple-flavoured syrup ended up on his neatly zippered windbreaker. I looked in horror at his syrup-spattered Pebble Beach jacket. My blood began to boil. I said nothing for a few seconds, giving him ample opportunity to recognize the costly damage he had inflicted on my generous gift. Nothing. No sign of remorse. Instead he picked up a French toast stick, sopped up the remaining syrup from the plastic container, and plunged it into his mouth while dribbling additional syrup onto the jacket. In that instant, the entire situation was clear to me. He didn't care. He was self-centred, thoughtless, and had no appreciation for the second mortgage I'd be servicing to pay for this gift of love. The ingrate.
As I sat next to my son on the plane, I managed to resist my immediate impulse to provide him with a verbal butt-kicking. The impulse was strong, and it took an act of will to withhold. I wondered whether other factors might be at play. Perhaps he was starving or in a hurry. Maybe he wasn't an obnoxious, ungrateful brat after all. I pointed to his jacket and said calmly, "Samuel, did you see that?" He followed my finger to the spattered fabric. His mouth went slack. He looked up at me with wide eyes and an expression of horror and shrieked, "Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!" He sobbed uncontrollably and pleaded for help getting the stains out. I did my best to help.
But more important, I learned a lesson. The problem wasn't that he was evil. The problem was that he was a normal 10-year-old boy—unabashedly inattentive and clueless—exactly as I had been at age 10. When I saw him differently, my response to him changed markedly. And my influence increased. I solved the right problem by helping him salvage his expensive gift rather than the convenient one of punishing him for his sloppy oversight.
Thus the moral of this whole story is to remain calm and composed in any type of scenario and it holds true all the more for a stock trader and make sure the person sitting on the other side of the table should not know if you are making profit or loss. Thus managing your impulsive behaviour is a must to make money in the market. The day you are able to achieve this, mark my words all riches of stock market are yours and same is easily achievable with our Jackpot tip of the day.