Lady Snowflake, hang in there. Persevere. It’s worth every miserable hour and every head-scratching moment. . .even the anesthetizing prose of Professor Fabozzi, who never says in ten words what he can say in ten thousand.
I got on the CFA track in my late 50s. I wasn’t a Wall Street guy. Never had been, never wanted to be. I was (and am) a self-employed business appraiser. I analyze and value non-public companies. We all know that analyzing the securities of public companies is no walk in the park. Well, let me tell you: analyzing companies with no audited financials, no pressure to maximize profits, limited disclosures, an shallow gene pool, and no markets for their securities is many magnitudes more difficult. But it’s also the only thing I’ve done in my life that has never bored me. . .and tha tincludes being the former CFO of one company, and the controller of another. I bore easily. But in this line of work, I’ve not been bored for a single minute in the nearly twenty years I’ve been in it. I’m astonished I get paid to do this. What a great life.
But 2005 wasn’t so great. For the 2005 Level III exam, I invested over 450 hours of preparation. I assembled about 225 pages of handwritten notes indexed to the Learning Outcome Statements. I’ve completed all of my Ph.D. coursework in strategic management. I’m also a CPA. I know how to study, believe me.
But I failed the 2005 L3 exam.
It was a crushing and personal defeat. I felt as if I’d been socked in the stomach. I felt far worse, however, for the lovely woman that I was fortunate enough to marry in 1994. She was then a widow, and I had been single for nearly 20 years. But marrying her is THE best and greatest thing that ever happened to me. She took my failure on L3 as personally and as painfully as I did.
At that point, I was 61 years old. I’d had a successful career. I didn’t need to prove anything to anybody. I was well-known in my field, hainvg published and lectured widely. So, after two weeks of recovering and reflection, I sat down with Dorothy for a conversation about the CFA regimen. I pointed out what I said a couple of lines above and then said to the effect of, “Dear, who needs this kind of aggravation? Why don’t we just call it a day with this CFA thing?”
She said (and I’m quoting here because even my pea brain remember what she said): “Dear, I really hate being a CFA widow. But if you don’t pass that Level 3 next year, I’m probably going to become a real widow!”
Whew.
For Level 3 in 2006, I updated my meticulous notes from 2005 with the new LOS’s and the modifications in the old ones. I studied for fewer than 100 hours. . .and I passed with flying colors. When we got the news in August of that year, both of us had tears rolling down our faces. It was a team effort. Her name belongs on the charter at least as much as mine because I never could have done it without her.
So, Lady Snowflake, persevere. You’ll get through, believe me. And it’ll be worth every lonely, frustrating, miserable late-night hour. Take that to the bank.
