MONEY
This Retirement Planning Seminar Came with Free Food. Count Me In!
I always wondered about these free financial seminars. Now I know
I get these fliers in my mailbox about free retirement planning seminars for people in their 50s. The events are held at one of my favorite chain restaurants and include a free dinner. For the past couple of years, I have recycled these offers. When I got one recently, I tore it in half and tossed it in the recycling bin.
But, a few hours later, I walked to the bin, fished it out, and taped it back together. Don’t ask me why I did it. I just did.
I texted a photo to my friend R, and she said she would go with me. I RSVP’d and responded to texts from the company confirming my plan to attend.
Presentation before food
When we arrived, we were asked our names, and who knew this request could be such a brain-bender. I had signed us up under fake names. I gave R the fake name of Rochelle and used a nickname version of my real first name, but I could not remember the last names I made up.
A young man in a smart suit had a list of attendees, and he asked our names so he could check us off the list. I said our first names, and he said the list was alphabetized by last name. We just stood there staring at him and smiling. He returned to the list and scrolled down and found my first name.
He said the first and last name with the intonation of a question.
“Is that you?’’
“Yes,” I said, repeating the first and last name. “Like I said.”
Another sharp-dressed young associate escorted us to our seats at a table with four other people. R and I howled over not knowing our own names. We looked around, and every seat was occupied. Most people appeared to be in their 50s or 60s, but there were a few people in their 70s and older.
I ordered the chicken, and R ordered the salmon. To our deep disappointment, the presentation was given before the food.
Flashnotes as a retirement investment vehicle
The presenter was a young guy, though not as young as the associates who checked us in. He shared that he and his wife just had a baby and showed baby photos on the PowerPoint. He had thick, black hair, which appeared secured to his head without the assistance of hair product. It was longish in the back and followed the contour of his neck until it got to his shoulders where it curled up slightly.
We pondered the how and the why of his hair throughout the presentation, though we still managed to listen. R even took notes. I followed most of what he talked about, which was standard invest-and-hold retirement planning advice. Then he talked about Flashnotes, which I had never heard of. I did not understand what he was talking about, even when I asked him about the investment vehicle later.
He mentioned that some types of savings accounts are paying north of 4 percent, which made me think I should put my teen’s nest egg in a high-yield account.
I don’t think his approach to saving for retirement was wrong or scammy. His advice seemed sensible, except for that part about Flashnotes. His presentation had too many charts and graphs for me. It seemed to stretch beyond 45 minutes, but that’s probably because I was starving.
The next step was signing up for a financial audit of my retirement portfolio. I checked the no box.
Oh no she didn’t!
Then, finally, the food. The salad. OMG! The best Italian dressing ever. Then my chicken came, and OMG!, so crispy, juicy, and yum.
We chatted with a couple at our table. They were empty nesters, and their daughter was getting married soon. The wife showed me photos of the wedding hall. She was so excited and full of pride.
Next to R, there were two women, and one shared that her daughter graduated from a prestigious college and got a job at a prestigious company. She also radiated pride, but with a bit of gloat. She said her daughter could have moved to New York City or San Francisco but chose to stay near her parents. Of all her daughter’s accomplishments, she took the most pride in this one. I reflected on the universality of parental pride.
My reflection was disrupted by a turn in the conversation. The woman started hard selling us on annuities. She was selling some sort of annuity, while chowing down on food the financial planner guy paid for! I could not believe her nerve! She said this annuity she was selling included a benefit to leave your heirs when you die. No, it doesn’t! OMG!
I didn’t order dessert, but R offered me a bite of her flan. I took three. We said goodbye to our table mates. When we got to the car, we agreed it was our idea of a fun night, which made us laugh so hard. This is 54.
Yeah, I feel like a mooch
So this dinner paid off for me and R, but did it pay off for the financial advisor? The dinner, which also offered steak as a choice, wasn’t cheap for the financial planning firm. I’m guessing $40 a person at least. There were 50 people, most of whom were couples, so about 30 opportunities to get a client. And the firm also incurred the cost of the mailer, probably sent to hundreds of people pre-screened for age and potential wealth.
I wondered if even one person or couple hired the firm to do their retirement planning.
I told my financial advisor, Shawn, about my adventure, and he said if the guy got just one client out of it, that would cover the cost of the dinner. It seems like a common strategy for getting clients, as many of my friends get these invitations. Enough people must convert to clients to make it worthwhile.
Was it ethical of R and me to enjoy the free meal knowing we were not in the market for a financial advisor? If we were, we would ask friends for referrals. We wouldn’t choose someone who sent us a mailer.
Why did we go?
Maybe we shot a man in Reno just to watch him die. Mostly we went out of curiosity and for something to do on a weeknight. But we also went because we have a tiny feeling of panic around retirement and whether we will have enough money. Taking action, any action, is how I quiet that panic, if only temporarily.
I expected follow-up emails, texts, and calls from the advisor in the days after the dinner. To my surprise, I have not heard from him. Looking back, the advisor and his staff were gracious hosts, and there was never a hard sell. The service at the restaurant was stellar. My glass of Diet Coke was never empty.
I don’t feel too bad about taking the free meal. R and I plan to go every time one of us receives a mailer. We may learn something helpful as we save for retirement. I mean, it’s an invitation, right?
About Priscilla Graham
I’m a writer and nonprofit communications professional in Georgia. I write about my journey to retirement. Love dogs!
