Spreader Guy

And other expensive ways to avoid the obvious

A guy on Facebook said he spent $16,000 on spreading fees last year.

His solution? Buy his own spreader.

Then he replied to himself. And again. Working it out in public. Talking himself into it, then maybe out of it, then back in. You could watch the internal negotiation happening in real time, right there in the comments.

I’m not mocking Spreader Guy. I’ve been him.

In my twenties, I traded currencies. Forex. The leverage is what hooks you. Control a hundred grand with a thousand bucks. I'd short the yen with positions that would make your eyes water. For a gambler like me, it was pure electricity.

I'd win just often enough to believe I had it figured out.

Then I'd blow up the account. And I always knew exactly what to buy.

A better charting package. Premium indicators. A new platform with faster execution.

If I just had better tools, I’d stop losing money.

I had nine monitors and a subscription to everything.

What I didn’t have was discipline. I was emotional. My risk management was rubbish.

But I kept buying platforms. Because admitting the problem was me?

That’s a hard door to walk through.

Spreader guy isn’t buying a spreader to save $16,000. He’s buying it so he doesn’t have to ask why he spent $16,000 in the first place. Maybe Dad would’ve bought the spreader, Grandpa too. The whole thing is baked into who he is now.

I almost bought another spreader this week. My last piece did well.

My solution?

Write a bigger follow-up. More words. More data. More industry callouts.

I had 1,400 words drafted before I realized I was buying a spreader.