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TGIF, whatever that means

Letters From the Home Front

Learn the New Luxury Playbook at Luxury Connect | October 18-19 at the Beverly Hills Hotel

I was in the grocery store on Friday when I overheard the man chatting on his cell phone: "Boy, am I glad it's Friday." Stopping just short of whacking him upside the head with my 10-pound bag of kitty litter, I instead chose to silently loathe him. Friday. I wish I could get me one of those things. Everything about my chosen profession is just so difficult these days. First, there are the longer market times. Time is money, and not only is my overburdened Decade at a Glance threatening to file bankruptcy, but never have I had to throw my checkbook in so many directions for such prolonged periods as I do these days. When people ask me how business is going, and the question is most often accompanied with an expression usually reserved for the terminally ill, I can sincerely respond by saying that the number of transactions we have been involved in this year is no fewer than last. It is not the level of business that has me dangerously close to modeling straight-j...