Once upon a time, annual shareholder meetings were dignified and righteous affairs. Shareholders would congregate at grand hotels across the country and get chummy over free food and drink. They would share tips on mahogany boat storage, dabbing the corners of their mouths with silk handkerchiefs before swinging round to the bar for another rye and ginger. (The raspberry mojito, after all, hadn't been invented yet.)
Unfortunately, those days are mostly long gone, a tragic victim of the '90s culture of accountability. But look hard and you can find a few companies, relics of a more civilized era, still willing to lay out a first-class spread. And if you clock in some serious overtime, you can find the few companies that still worship the holy grail of corporate extravagance: the open bar. Those meetings not only make for a good time, they're the foundation of what may be the most lucrative investment strategy I've ever invented: the Free Drinks Investment Strategy (FDIS).
Getting started is simple. Buy shares in the right companies, go to their meetings and—here's where it gets good—eat and drink as much as you can. No investment strategy is foolproof, of course. Successful investing requires diligent research and—more importantly—a willingness to take risks. But if you follow the cases I have presented here, and learn how to carefully analyze what's hot and what's not, you too can stuff and pickle yourself on someone else's balance sheet.
Rogers Communications
It isn't easy being independently wealthy. That's the first thing I learned at the Rogers meeting. I intentionally wore jeans and a leather jacket to project the following image: I don't work for money; I just enjoy it. Perhaps my get-up was too convincing, because as soon as I sat down, a chest-waxing MBA-type in a dark suit gave me the kind of sneering look that said he wanted to demolish me on the squash court. His jealousy was vulgar.
I'll be honest and admit that I didn't much like Ted Rogers before the meeting started. The problem with Ted is that he's rich and successful, and like any good Canadian, I long ago placed him high on my list of personal enemies. So you'll know I'm being level when I tell you that Ted stole the show. For one thing, the man can dress. He sat onstage resplendent in a powder-blue suit, exuding the air of an eccentric Texan oil baron—rich, but with a hefty pinch of who-gives-a-damn.
His speech was even more electric than his suit, which I didn't think was possible. Ted talked about how great Rogers Communications was last year, but how much better it is this year, and how it's going to be even better next year. The highlight was Ted's scornful tirade about the company I assume is his mortal enemy: Bell Canada. He talked about "monopolistic behaviour" and "selective pricing," and then announced to the hushed audience: "That's just damn wrong!" It was a shining moment. As Ted stood there on the prow of his mighty corporate ship, weathering the storm of unfair competition, he reminded me of Ronald Reagan—avuncular, spunky and dedicated to the eradication of evil. And at that moment, it hit me: This wunder-executive was working for me. Keep up the good work, Ted.
At the reception, I went straight to the bar, where I had an experience all too uncommon in this country. I asked for a rye and Coke, and the bartender shot back, "Want to make it a double? A single shot would be an insult to the Seagram name." He was right. As I gulped down that sweet, soul-healing liquid, I considered the future of this great company. There's been a lot of talk about who's going to take the helm at Rogers once Ted retires. I think the right man for the job is obvious: the bartender.
