The Legend of Dickledoo

In the summer of 1989, nine-year old Chess was experiencing his first year of summer camp. The age group of guys I was with had already known each other for a year or two, and I was the new kid. Luckily, I backed into a goldmine.

The first week of camp, we were playing soccer. The activity was run by a few British counselors who had flown across the pond to see America and play sports with some young lads for the summer. One of the soccer instructors was named Richard. I asked him a question, starting off with his first name, and he immediately corrected me with, “Please don’t call me ‘Richard,’ mate. Dick will do.” I filed his preference away, and went about with the summer.

A few days later, I saw him walking across the other side of camp and overhead him slightly more agitated, screaming at another camper, “DICK WILL DO!” Only this time, he picked up the pace of his cadence to a more colloquial, London-sounding, “DICK’LL DO!” Apparently, the name Richard was still sticking.

Later that evening, I heard him screaming at a group of ten-year old girls on the soccer field, “DICK’LL DO! DAMMIT!”

A lightbulb went off in my head. Being the outsider to my age group, I saw an opening to be the cool new kid. The next time I saw Richard was inside the cafeteria where the entire camp was eating. As he walked by my table, I screamed at the top of my lungs, “HEY THERE, DICKLEDOO!” Everyone started laughing, and the nickname stuck. I became a hero of sorts. Other counselors would come back drunk from the bars late at night, come into my bunk where I was sleeping, and wake me up to high-five me and reward me with contraband in the form of pizza snuck back to camp.

As it turned out, Dickledoo was not a very well-liked guy to begin with amongst campers and counselors, and my nickname enabled his enemies to torment him to no end. After that, Dickledoo gave me some nasty look, but I guess he knew that I got the best of him since he never confronted me directly. Another camper did not have such good luck, though, when Dickledoo got fired a few weeks later for losing his temper and body slamming the kid on the soccer field, breaking the kid’s arm.

What does Dickledoo have to do with trading and the stock market? Think about it.

He forced a nickname that he badly wanted to have, but the marketplace of people at the camp refused to go along with it. So, he got frustrated and continued to force it even harder, which only led to his demise. If anything, he should have been more patient with letting “Dick” become his nickname by continuing to gently remind people he preferred that name instead of Richard.

Bottom Line: Do not force trades when they are not there, especially during choppy summer months, else wind up like Dickledoo, fired and on a plane ride home with nothing to do.

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