I TRIED INVESTING $10 IN CRYPTOCURRENCY AND BECAME CEO OF NOTHING
I TRIED INVESTING $10 IN CRYPTOCURRENCY AND BECAME CEO OF NOTHING
Investing in cryptocurrency is like joining a rollercoaster ride designed by pranksters. The thrill, the adrenaline, the sudden realization that your life savings—or in my case, $10—might disappear before your eyes, all while Elon Musk tweets about Dogecoin.
. I decided it was time to become financially literate. Naturally, I started with the grand sum of $10. Because why not aim for greatness on a shoestring budget? After all, billionaires once started somewhere… probably not $10, but still.
---
The first step was opening an account on a crypto exchange. I had to provide my full name, date of birth, a picture of my driver’s license, and a signed affidavit stating I was not a robot.
I spent 30 minutes uploading my documents. By the end, I was convinced I had accidentally applied to become the Secretary-General of the United Nations instead of buying cryptocurrency.
---
Next, I stared at a list of cryptocurrencies like a confused cat in a laser pointer factory. Bitcoin. Ethereum. Dogecoin. Shiba Inu. Solana. Polkadot. My brain short-circuited at the thought of investing in something named after a cartoon dog.
I decided to invest in Dogecoin because apparently, memes are money now. I transferred my $10, which felt like putting a single drop of water into the Atlantic Ocean, hoping it would somehow multiply.
---
Immediately, I felt like a financial genius. I told my friends: “I’m officially a crypto investor. Soon, I’ll be a CEO, perhaps of a startup, or at least of my own life.”
They laughed. They didn’t understand. They never understand. Financial wisdom is often lonely, especially when paired with a $10 investment.
---
The first few hours were tense. I watched the price of Dogecoin like a hawk. Up, down, sideways, straight into oblivion… my emotions were riding the crypto rollercoaster harder than a Wall Street trader on espresso.
I checked Reddit for advice. Everyone said, “HODL.” I googled HODL. Apparently, it means “Hold On for Dear Life.” Wise advice, especially when your $10 could vanish at any moment.
---
Then came the inevitable moment: the price dropped. Dramatically. My $10 was now $9.87. I felt like a failure. I had become the CEO of nothing, master of an imaginary portfolio, and the proud owner of $9.87 worth of digital nothingness.
---
I considered selling, but TikTok financial experts advised against it. “The market will recover,” they said. “Think long-term.” Long-term? Bro, I bought this morning. My coffee budget is more stable than this investment.
Instead, I watched. I waited. I refreshed my crypto app every 30 seconds like a digital stock market addict. My thumb hurt. My sanity questioned my life choices. Yet, I HODLed.
---
By day two, I had joined crypto forums. I learned terms like “FOMO,” “DYOR,” “moon,” and “rekt.” I realized FOMO means Fear Of Missing Out. DYOR means Do Your Own Research. Moon means your investment may go so high you need a spacesuit. Rekt… well, it means you’re financially destroyed.
I had achieved a trifecta of emotions: confusion, mild panic, and existential dread.
---
Then I attempted diversification. Because that’s what real investors do. I bought $2 in Shiba Inu, $3 in Cardano, and the remaining $4 in a coin I couldn’t pronounce. It was like a financial smorgasbord for absolute chaos.
By the end of the day, my portfolio looked like a badly written menu at a sushi restaurant: exotic, overpriced, and slightly terrifying.
---
I tried using financial tools. Crypto calculators, portfolio trackers, charts with lines that looked like a Jackson Pollock painting. I tried analyzing trends. Nothing made sense. I stared at candlestick charts, thinking: Is this art or my impending bankruptcy?
---
Soon, I became obsessed. I told my family: “I am now a crypto CEO. I manage digital assets. I’m wealth-adjacent.”
My uncle asked: “What is a crypto CEO?”
I proudly explained: “It’s like a regular CEO, but with less income and more emotional instability.”
He nodded, unsure if I was a visionary or legally insane.
---
The market fluctuated. My $10 went down to $9.50, up to $10.20, then plummeted to $9.10. I felt like I was negotiating with a toddler who controls my financial fate.
Every notification from the app made me jump. Every alert was a potential heartbreak. I had become a professional emotional rollercoaster enthusiast.
---
I tried giving myself pep talks. “David, this is a long-term investment. Remember, Bitcoin went from $1 to $69,000. Your $10 could someday be… $11.”
The excitement was palpable. Financial growth at its finest. I bought a latte with my last $5 for morale. Emotional ROI is important.
---
Then I discovered crypto influencers. Their Instagram feeds showed luxury cars, private jets, and beach houses. I followed them religiously, hoping some of their financial aura would rub off.
Instead, I developed an intense combination of envy, awe, and the sudden realization that my crypto journey was more like a tragic sitcom than a financial revolution.
---
I decided to create a vision board. Pictures of yachts, Teslas, and diamond-encrusted credit cards. I stuck my $10 investment receipt to the board with tape, labeling it: “My first empire.”
I stared at it daily. Motivation? Perhaps. Humiliation? Definitely.
---
Friends offered advice: “Diversify, hedge, learn about NFTs.” I nodded. NFTs. Digital art that no one else owns, but costs as much as a used car. I thought: If my $10 can’t buy stability, can it buy an NFT?
I considered it. Then remembered I didn’t even have $10 left after emotional support snacks.
---
By week two, I had become a cryptocurrency evangelist for myself. I lectured anyone within earshot about blockchain, liquidity, and tokenomics. My cat stared at me judgmentally. Financial literacy, it seemed, is best received by other humans—or cats who have no opinion.
---
Then came a moment of clarity: I realized my $10 investment had taught me more than any course on wealth management. I had learned:
1. Emotional control is key.
2. $10 is enough to get excited, terrified, and bankrupt in spirit.
3. TikTok financial advice is hilarious.
4. CEO of nothing is still better than unemployed CEO of everything.
---
By the end of the month, my portfolio was worth $9.95. Statistically insignificant, emotionally devastating, yet ironically empowering.
I had become a crypto millionaire in spirit, if not in dollars.
---
The moral? Investing in cryptocurrency with $10 doesn’t make you rich. It doesn’t make you a CEO. It makes you laugh, cry, and question every life choice you’ve ever made.
Yet somehow, through financial chaos, emotional instability, and meme-fueled investments, I had learned a valuable lesson: humor is the best ROI.
😂 Don’t Miss Out On The Madness!
I drop brand-new funny, wild, and brain-sparking stories every day at exactly 6 AM — yes, your early-morning dose of comedy! 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 6 AM Comedy Post 😁
Comments
Post a Comment