Give my mouse pad a lucky makeover, and the market index goes bungee jumping on the spot
This young master has hit a rough patch lately, and I suspect the Five Elements energy field on my desk is out to get me, so I decided to change up my setup. I ordered an extra-large purple mouse pad online, touted as bringing “purple auspicious energy from the east,” thinking this time I’d finally attract some good fortune. Fully kitted out, I calmly opened a position and placed my order. But the moment I clicked, the market—which had been as still as a millpond—suddenly started convulsing like it had been electrocuted. First, it plunged straight down, scaring the living daylights out of me; then, the instant it hit bottom, it sprang back up like it had stepped on a trampoline, shooting skyward on the spot. Meanwhile, that supposedly auspicious purple mouse pad had so little grip that it slid right off the edge of the desk, dumping an entire cup of hot tea onto the power strip. At last, I understood: all that purple energy and fortune-changing feng shui is completely useless. The big players don’t believe in the Five Elements or the Eight Trigrams. Their one and only superpower is waiting until I’ve laid down a brand-new mouse pad, then immediately taking the market index bungee jumping right at my stop-loss level.
This young master has hit a rough patch lately, and I suspect the Five Elements energy field on my desk is out to get me, so I decided to change up my setup. I ordered an extra-large purple mouse pad online, touted as bringing “purple auspicious energy from the east,” thinking this time I’d finally attract some good fortune. Fully kitted out, I calmly opened a position and placed my order. But the moment I clicked, the market—which had been as still as a millpond—suddenly started convulsing like it had been electrocuted. First, it plunged straight down, scaring the living daylights out of me; then, the instant it hit bottom, it sprang back up like it had stepped on a trampoline, shooting skyward on the spot. Meanwhile, that supposedly auspicious purple mouse pad had so little grip that it slid right off the edge of the desk, dumping an entire cup of hot tea onto the power strip. At last, I understood: all that purple energy and fortune-changing feng shui is completely useless. The big players don’t believe in the Five Elements or the Eight Trigrams. Their one and only superpower is waiting until I’ve laid down a brand-new mouse pad, then immediately taking the market index bungee jumping right at my stop-loss level.