Billy’s snores rumbled through the dark hotel room, like a dirt-stuffed garden hose choking and sputtering. He rasped more air into his lungs, like a dentist pulling back his drill before plunging forward again, penetrating deeper into our brains.
Three of us shared the hotel room: Billy, me, and Wally. A little before midnight, I’d taken a melatonin pill.
Around 2AM, I stumbled into the bathroom for another, ducking through the machine gun snores.
Later – I don’t know when because I swore off looking at the clock – I took a third. Mixed with the snoring and my bubbling anger, they might as well have been caffeine pills.
Neither Wally nor I anticipated shacking up with a snorer. But even calling it snoring would be a disservice to the cacophony this human emitted. He somehow transformed his air passages into a Nutra bullet trying – and failing – to grind its way through chunks of asphalt mixed with river water.
I didn’t sleep. Not even close.
Around 5AM, just a guess, I threw off my covers, stepped through the darkness to Billy’s body as he let loose another, “Ghaughnaughnngh,” and slammed my fists onto the edge of his mattress.
“Billy!”
He flailed his arms, cutting himself off mid-snore to say, “Gua? Wha?”
“You’re snoring! It’s so loud!”
As I turned away to march back to bed, he said, “Sorry. Sorry.”
Wally giggled.
“So f***ed up. So f***ed up,” I said, and fell back into bed.
As sunrays began to glow through the blinds, I got one or two hours of sleep. Then our alarms went off.
The three of us were travelling with another friend to a town in Wyoming. The night before, we ate steaks at a restaurant with a stuffed cougar or bobcat or something poised over us and clawing at the air. The only thing missing was a coating of sawdust on the floor.
We had assembled our ragtag team to bid on a tax lien sale.
Here’s how that works. When someone doesn’t pay their taxes, the IRS – or the state, if they owe state taxes – will send them threatening letters, go after the person’s paycheck or drain the person’s bank account. They’ll also place a “lien” on their property.
If the person doesn’t pay up, their property will be taken away.
Then the property gets sold, which is how we arrived at this tax lien sale – to buy property from deadbeats. By the way, guess how I know all this? Two reasons. First, because I just googled it to make sure I got the explanation right. Second, because literally every single one of those things was done to me. Well, almost. I chuckled when I received the notice of the lien in the mail because, at the time, I had no property worth confiscating (I’ve since paid what I owed and the lien was released).
After the sleepless night, we drove to a municipal building, stood in line, and picked some raffle numbers.
The liens were offered in order of value, so the lowest numbers got first picks at the juiciest investments. I got 90, which was okay. Billy got 91. But Wally got 27 – not bad. No matter what, it was beneficial to bring as many people into the room as you could because more bodies meant more bids.
We took our seats in a room holding roughly 200 people. For the next couple hours, we sat and listened to someone drone into a microphone with the specific ratio of breathiness and robot-like intercom announcements achieved only at local government meetings.
“Lot number 8437 is priced at $11,829.”
“Number 58. Yes.”
Then another lot was announced.
“Number 59. Yes.”
Over and over, back and forth like a metronome. I started to drift away, but shook myself awake. The back-and-forth crept closer to me.
Some of the lots, our friend had explained to us beforehand, weren’t worth the cost. I didn’t catch why – maybe it was a condemned house. So he gave us a list of lots to say no to. The problem was, if we had to say no, we wasted our turn. We wanted to buy as much as possible.
Most of the bidders had done the same homework. Sometimes, a lot got a string of rejections.
“Number 78. No.”
“Number 79. No.”
“Number 80. No.”
“Number 81. No.”
“Number 82. Yes.”
You could almost hear the snickers. Sucker.
The announcements reached the lady ahead of me. “Lot number 9876 is priced at $5,253.”
Uh oh. If the lady said yes, then the lot after the next was one my friend didn’t want. Billy would have to waste his turn. I sat there, helpless.
But the lady hesitated, frowned, looked at her papers.
“Number 89?”
She remained silent. The metronome had stopped ticking. Heads turned toward her.
“Uh…” she said.
My friend whipped his head to stare at me. Nodded.
I knew what to do. I’d jump in and say my number. If luck were on our side, everyone would be happy I kept the number train rolling and Billy could get the next lien – the one we wanted.
“Number 90. Yes,” I said.
Sighs of relief. The metronome of bidding ticked back into action. Billy said yes to the next one and poor #92 had to waste his turn.
After stumbling around like zombies the rest of the day, we road-tripped back home and I caught up on sleep.
So why did I do this? Just for the adventure.
Money comes easier to those who are open-minded about how to get it.
Think of your money life like sex. It needs a healthy dose of kink.
The trip to Wyoming didn’t cost me anything. Our friend paid for our hotel and meals. It took time, but I got to meet new people. High-earners don’t march into every situation desperate for an immediate payoff. They’re more like explorers, surveying the lands, always gathering data and learning while they consider their next move. Building relationships with the right people is always part of this exploration and you can’t hit the fast-forward button on that. Or by clicking some Easy button online, either.
A couple years after the tax lien road trip, I reconnected with the friend who’d assembled us for the bidding and he helped me set up my self-directed 401K. A few days ago, because I contributed to it, I saved roughly $6,000 on my taxes for the year. The adventure bore fruit for both of us in a way we couldn’t have predicted.
If you think the take-home point of this article is to buy tax liens or pay more attention to your 401K, you just threw an airball.
I have no idea how tax liens work — other than learning I was supposed to say, “Yes” at certain times in that crowded room. My only other experience was when a tax lien was put on my property by the IRS, which didn’t bother me because, at the time, I had virtually no property.
The take-home point is to be more involved in how people acquire and grow investments. Immerse yourself in money. Say yes to adventures. Get kinkier with it.
