Asian Markets Are Down

My Vietnamese manicurist is about my height but I'm sure I out weigh him by at least 30 pounds. With his fragile looking hands he massages my feet and legs like you would expect from a man twice his size. I do not speak while this occurs, just lean back in the decadence of the upholstered chair and thank god that an hour of overtime will pay for being treated like royalty. Later he files my left hand while my right soaks in the bowl of suds. He is looking up at the TV instead of my fingers. The world stock market report is blaring from the big screen. He turns back briefly, glances at me and says,

“What happen money? Who has it? Who take?”

I pause only briefly as I consider best how to describe a complex system of economics, one that I myself do not understand, to a manicurist whose English is certainly better than my Vietnamese, but not exponentially. 

“Well,” I start, giving myself time to think, “It's not like real money. No one actually is taking it.”

“but where go? who has?” says the man who calls himself James.

“It's like my house.” I said, a subject we had been talking about earlier after I tried to explain why a man was selling lottery tickets for his house for $50.00 apiece and needed to sell 6000 to get his asking price. “I told you I bought my house for about $90,000 and now it's worth about $400,000. It's the same house. It's only worth more if someone is willing to pay that much for it. It might look like I am $310,000 richer, but I don't have the money except on paper. I have stocks too, and I got a statement recently that said some of the ones I own are worth around $3000 less than they were the last time they sent me a statement. I didn't actually have the money when they were worth 3,000 more, and no one has actually taken it from me. The stock market just decided they were worth less.” I lean back sure that I have given a brilliantly simple explanation that even someone who speaks little English can understand.

“They just steal money?” replies James. I realize I have vastly overestimated my teaching skills. 

“No, it's only there on paper.” I pause for a bit of a think. “Look at it this way. Is what you charge for a manicure what it is actually worth, or is it what someone is willing to pay to have their nails done? 

James says nothing with his mouth this time, but I can tell he wants to ask the same question again, rephrasing it so I in my intense ignorance will be able to understand that I've been robbed.

“Okay,” I begin again, “when my son was little he had trouble understanding money. I used to tell him the value of things in ice cream cones rather than dollars. A really expensive toy might cost twenty ice cream cones. Ice cream is a real thing that he could understand, but dollars are only worth what we say they are.” I don't bother going into the gold standard at this point as I am hopelessly over my head with the ice cream. “The stock market is the same way. A stock is only worth what someone is willing to pay for it. Right now a lot of people think that the stocks are losing value, so they are. It's all about confidence really.” 

“Oh,” he says, “so if it cheap maybe some people could go buy now and sell later when it worth more.” Bingo! I have done it. I have created a capitalist agenda in this small Asian man. 

“Yes, you're right.! That's exactly what caused the rally today. People decided to buy up cheap stock in companies hoping it will be worth more later.” We smile together, minds finally on the same wave length. I am wondering if James is counting how many manicures it would take to buy a controlling interest in Google. We sit in quiet as he paints the perfect white half moons on my short fingernails making them look spectacular. 

“You did a wonderful job!” I exclaim as he puts on the final coat. He thanks me shyly and then delivers the coup de grace.

“I thinking. Why man sell house so cheap? Fifty dollar. He lose money.” My mouth opens but nothing comes out. James is picking up my boots and purse and taking them to the nail drying area. I settle in quietly and watch him pick up the towels and sweep the floor, really glad I over tipped him.