Don't ask me what a hedge fund is — if I knew, I'd manage
one.
I’ve already told you
the story of Mrs. Campbell, my well-meaning high school guidance counselor. In
case you missed it, I’ll tell you again.
High school seniors in
Detroit, where I grew up, had career counseling before they were turned loose
on society. You took “aptitude” tests (“Would you prefer arranging flowers or building
a bridge?”) and read boring brochures in the name of finding out what you
wanted to be when you grew up. I took the tests and read the brochures. When I
went to see Mrs. Campbell for advice, she had my records spread out in front of
her.
“I think you can be
just about anything you want to be,” she said. That was counselor-speak for:
“You don’t have any identifiable talent.”






















