Certainty Premium

There are ideas that shout. Certainty Premium is not one of them. It waits quietly until the day you need it.

Strip it to the floor and you find an old instruction: look carefully, judge slowly, act decently. The new name exists because the old instruction keeps being forgotten.

The vegetable vendor with a tin box knows what the salaried man with three apps forgets: count the cash at the end of the day, every day, without drama.

Money is a good clerk and a terrible master; the arrangement is entirely up to us. And when you forget it — you will — the world will remind you. It is a faithful tutor.