What's it worth?

Our intrepid search for new material, useful for our Members sometimes takes us to strange places.  Recently, I encountered the following article on www.msnbc.msn.com:

Man writes cheque on 2-ply toilet paper
updated 10:52 a.m. ET March 28, 2008
BINGHAMTON, N.Y. - An upstate New York man embroiled in a dispute over his water bill is not being allowed to pay off his debt with a check written on toilet paper. Ron Borgna tried to settle his $2,509.66 bill with a check written on floral print, two-ply toilet paper Wednesday.

The disagreement began in September 2006 when Borgna received a $422.90 water bill. Borgna claims he was overbilled. With additional charges, penalties and late fees that bill has grown.

Binghamton city officials refused to accept the check. After a short argument, Borgna was escorted out of the building.

Ignoring, for a moment, the fact that this section of the MSN website appears to specialise in the more...er...eccentric examples of life in the US, it did strike me again that clearly there are times when the mere act of committing something to paper does not create something that is valid, which has a value in and of itself.

Historically, many IFAs have been guilty of creating 'suitability letters' which have been crammed full of back-protecting, compliance-driven, computer-generated, generic bumphff.  Perhaps the whole regulatory culture has driven this approach, but my guess is that often the largest proportion of our written recommendations has little direct relevance to the client's circumstances and objectives.  Perhaps, in the kind of topsy-turvy world driven by regulators, we have begun to think like them - that the real measure of 'value' is in the thickness of the pile of paper that plops ominously onto the client's doormat?

In a previous incarnation, I used to while away many hours helping clients decipher the voluminous reports generated by systems such as Prestwood, which had been delivered to them, without comment or input by the IFAs using the system.  Somehow, I always felt guilty about charging a fee for my interpretative service, when the poor client had already shelled out £1,500 for something that might as well have been written in classic 7th century Mongolian script.  What, I used to wonder, did the IFA think he or she had actually done for the client?

Surely, the real value was in that subsequent conversation?