Called my broker, "Bob, get me out of this overpriced coffee and donut shop dive!" He just stammered. . . .
To whom shall I sell it too. Nobody wants your shares Steve. Hell people are watching their dollars now. A coffee and donut is almost 2 tickets to the matinee now. This just ain't worth 75 dollars a share. It ain't worth Jack, the broker told me. So I told him, "get me over to Jack!" As he put me on hold till I had to hang up. WORD! To all you Mother Flippers out there.
Who listens to brokers, most don't even have the training of a vacuum cleaner salesman.
Then there’s Edward Jones, a 91-year-old brokerage based in St. Louis that’s thriving by sticking to its old ways. It hired 2,682 trainees last year and plans to add a similar number this year, according to Steve Kuehl, a partner. Trainees at Edward Jones, which has more than 12,000 advisers, don’t spend their days pitching stocks to strangers over the phone. They go door to door, like vacuum cleaner salesmen. New brokers are brought to headquarters, where the company has constructed what it calls “role-play suites”—rooms designed to look like homes and offices, complete with doors that they can practice knocking on. They review tapes of themselves with coaches to improve their technique. “We try to help them learn how to present their value proposition in terms of helping people meet their financial goals,” says Kuehl. “The core is face to face.”
The life of a young broker can be grueling. After the role-playing at headquarters, Edward Jones brokers return to their hometowns, where they go from one house to the next to compile a list of prospects. After Alex Freemon, a 2012 Georgia Institute of Technology graduate, practiced knocking on a model door in a classroom at Edward Jones headquarters, the company sent him back to Atlanta to walk the streets for 10 hours a day. His pay: about $30,000 a year plus commissions.