Ask Eleanor
Do the stars have it out for Uranus? 10/23/2024
Madam Eleanor L’Ouvier circa 1929. Image Assistance GPT 4o.
Dear Madam Eleanor L’Ouvier,
I’m not usually a complainer, but I swear the universe is out to get me—every decision I make backfires. Last week, on my friend Jason’s advice, I bought stock in a company he swore would skyrocket. Well, the market tanked, and I lost $5,000. Jason can afford that kind of loss, but I can’t—I’m now scrambling to pay my mortgage. I know what you’ll say: never invest money you can’t afford to lose. But why is every decision I make the wrong one?
To make matters worse, last night, I had to choose between attending a networking seminar with a company I applied to or, at Jason’s insistence, attending his barbeque to meet his boss and maybe land a job. Naturally, I chose the barbeque, but Jason’s boss was a no-show. This morning, I found out the job I applied for went to someone else. Is there a cosmic conspiracy against me?
Signed,
My rising sign is Aquarius over Jupiter, but I’m crashing hard in Virgo, Virginia.
Dear A Pain in My Uranus, darling,
Attitude is everything, my little love. If you expect failure, you’ll surely find it. And yes, I would tell you never to invest living expenses in an institution as volatile as today’s stock market—what you did wasn’t just irresponsible; it was plain stupid. You didn’t mention having a family, but if you were my husband, you’d sleep at a Motel 6 until the divorce was final.
Madam and Stupid go together like dog poop and ranch dressing on a Reuben sandwich.
But don’t despair, Uranus. Your problem isn’t the stars—you’re sabotaging yourself. Trust me, I’ve been there. Before I became a Hollywood B-lister, I was the first female commodities broker at the Chicago Board of Trade. Picture it: October 24, 1929. The stock market was in the middle of crashing on Wall St., and commodity prices were spiraling. I was having coffee at the Berghoff with fellow trader Tightwad Tony the Tooth—so named for his huge Chiclet-like teeth, but I digress.
As the market tanked in New York, Tony, mid-bite of French toast, told me to buy corn futures like there was no tomorrow. Prices would skyrocket, and I’d make millions, he said. Well, wrong, wrong, and more wrong, darling. I bought thousands of contracts at 75 cents a bushel. The price nosedived to 35 cents, and I lost nearly $100,000 covering my position. Tony? He lost a million dollars.
The following day at the Berghoff, I spotted Tony laughing with his partner, Marty. Furious, I stormed over and said, “I’m broke because of you!” Tony laughed harder and pointed at Marty. “I’m broke because of him!” Marty, wiping away tears, said, “I did the opposite of you two and made 5 million dollars!”
Tony turned to me and said, "Look, Eleanor, investing’s risky business. Either you have the stomach for it, or you shouldn’t be a trader. But remember, it’s not what happens to you that matters; it’s how you react."
He was right. Perception is everything. Tony lost a cool million but laughed it off because he refused to be defined by his mistakes.
Marty? He died of a heart attack a week later after dancing for twenty-four hours straight in a Charleston marathon at the Aragon Ballroom, proving, little love, that money ain't everything.
You don’t need cosmic intervention, Uranus—you need perspective. Take Tony’s advice: It’s not your missteps that define you, but how you react. Dust yourself off, reevaluate, and maybe consider a little less Jason next time. And if all else fails, darling, do what I do—get a massage and facial at Elizabeth Arden, reminding yourself that you’re too fabulous to be a victim of bad luck or anything, for that matter.
Hugs and kisses,
Madam Eleanor L’Ouvier
