THE DAY MY SLIPPERS REFUSED TO FOLLOW ME HOME
THE DAY MY SLIPPERS REFUSED TO FOLLOW ME HOME
It began like any ordinary day, the kind where life’s ROI seems questionable, and yet the universe decides to play a cruel little prank. I was heading home after a long workday, weighed down by deadlines, adult responsibilities, and pondering why I invest in electricity bills only for them to default at critical times. My mind wandered to cryptocurrency fluctuations and digital banking alerts as I slipped my feet into my trusty slippers—slippers that had weathered fiscal storms as faithfully as a long-term investment portfolio.
. These slippers had carried me through grocery store aisles, street puddles, neighborly gossip, and occasional sprinting exercises reminiscent of stock market panic. They were family assets, molded over years to maximize comfort and utility, like a diversified retirement fund. Little did I know, that day would redefine my understanding of asset liquidity and personal footwear investment.
I started my walk home, analyzing the global economy in my head, pondering fintech trends and potential passive income streams. The street was quiet, almost like a market pause before a major crash. I felt the familiar grip of my slippers, the cushioning under my toes—a tactile asset with guaranteed ROI. But then, I noticed hesitation. My left slipper had paused.
At first, I thought I imagined it. Perhaps a hallucination caused by analyzing stock trends while walking. But no. My left slipper refused to advance. “Lefty?” I asked, unsure if I was negotiating with footwear or contemplating AI-driven autonomous financial instruments. It did not move.
The right slipper, in contrast, continued like a loyal employee in a wealth management firm executing orders flawlessly. But the left slipper had apparently analyzed its own risk, decided the market was bearish, and opted to freeze its investment. I tried commands, gentle nudges, and whispered motivational speeches about ROI, investments, and cryptocurrency trends. Nothing.
By now, neighbors were peeking, probably calculating the potential capital gains of a slipper rebellion. “Is he negotiating with his asset again?” I imagined them whispering. I attempted rational persuasion. “Listen, Lefty. There’s a house, Wi-Fi, tea, and Netflix waiting for you. Your portfolio is diversified at home.”
The slipper remained unmoved. Judgment emanated from it, stronger than the sternest wealth advisor. This was no footwear malfunction; this was a philosophical and financial statement. My slipper had achieved autonomy, possibly auditing my life choices like a fintech compliance officer.
I tried walking faster, thinking momentum could restore normal market conditions. My right slipper clung to its foot, executing my commands with perfect execution, but the left slipper remained like an illiquid asset refusing conversion. Panic set in. Who do you call when an asset rebels—police, animal control, or a financial arbitrator?
I bargained. “I’ll buy new socks, provide premium foam, and never step in mud again! Just come home, and we can analyze crypto together.” Nothing. Then, a passerby—a young newspaper deliverer—paused, eyes wide. “Sir… your slipper… it’s… alive.” I laughed nervously, imagining how this would affect my net worth in social capital.
The slipper tightened its stance. It was no longer a mere object; it had declared independence like an IPO breaking free in a volatile market. I considered retreating but realized abandonment could destabilize the entire local economy… or at least my living room. Loyalty was a two-way street, and apparently, my left slipper had become a sovereign financial entity.
Minutes stretched like long-term bond maturity periods. My legs cramped, neighbors laughed discreetly, and some filmed TikTok videos calculating potential virality ROI. “This man,” one said, “is being abandoned by his own asset.” The shame felt like losing an entire day’s stock portfolio in a flash crash.
Then came the shocking twist: the slipper took its first step… backward. Not forward, not cautiously, but like a bearish market fleeing a pump-and-dump scheme. I lunged, gripping it as if trying to salvage a collapsing crypto portfolio. Its rubbery resistance rivaled any market downturn I’d ever witnessed.
A crowd had gathered. Someone cheered: “Yes! Fight for your asset!” I whispered sweet nothings: “You’re more than foam and rubber. You’re a partner in my financial and domestic portfolio. Come home; we have Netflix, tea, and the chance to maximize lifetime utility.”
It paused. My plea penetrated its sole with partial efficacy. Then it twitched—a rebellion of epic proportions. My slipper had decided its ROI in independence outweighed obedience. I slumped, defeated. The left slipper refused to follow me home, an illiquid asset with a mind of its own.
I carried the right slipper inside. My foot felt incomplete, like a portfolio missing a blue-chip stock. I stared at the door, imagining the left slipper perched outside, strategizing market moves, perhaps planning memoirs or TED Talks on asset autonomy and passive income.
Over the next few days, life continued. The left slipper appeared occasionally, like a high-yield but volatile investment, teasing me from the balcony. Therapy, mediation, even buying a tiny house next door—nothing could coax it back. It had achieved enlightenment, financial independence, and self-awareness, leaving me with stories and regrets like a poorly timed IPO.
From that day, I walk differently. I no longer assume loyalty in any asset, whether footwear or cryptocurrency. I salute my slippers when leaving the house, muttering prayers for stable ROI and asset appreciation. Sometimes, I whisper, hoping my left slipper remembers our shared past and considers reinvesting in companionship.
It taught me the ultimate financial and existential lesson: never underestimate your assets. Whether human, mechanical, or rubber, they may act autonomously, calculating risk, projecting ROI, and deciding to abandon you when market conditions appear unfavorable.
The left slipper became a symbol of independence, like a fintech startup breaking out of the incubator. My right slipper, obedient and loyal, continued as a reliable blue-chip asset. I diversified emotionally and financially, learning to accept that some assets are illiquid, some are volatile, and some simply refuse to follow traditional market expectations.
And so, every time I slip my feet into footwear, I do so with respect, reverence, and a touch of humor. Because one day, one slipper may refuse to follow, one investment may rebel, and one asset may decide that its future ROI lies elsewhere. And when that day comes, you’ll understand why patience, strategy, and a good sense of humor are essential in both life and finance.
😂 Don’t Miss Out On The Madness!
I drop brand-new funny, wild, and brain-sparking stories daily at exactly 10 AM & 6 PM — twice a day! From “Naija wahala” to global comedy gist, I deliver laughter hotter than Lagos sun ☀️ Subscribe now or risk missing your daily dose of “hilarious wisdom”! 😎🔥
🚀 Join the laughter squad — your inbox will thank you later! 💌 #DavidDWriter | Daily dose of joy, two times a day 😁
Comments
Post a Comment