Covid-19 has hit everyone in different ways, but no age demographic has suffered more that our seniors. Many of our mothers, fathers, grandmothers and grandfathers have spent the past two years in isolation, aging in place and unable to see friends and family. In reaching out to my clients in that age group, taking time to talk about subjects outside of their investments and fixed income needs meant getting to know them on a personal level -  none more than Miss A.

As background, with a new year came new regulatory requirements for the investment industry. Among them was the requirement to ask for a Trusted Contact Person ('TCP') of each and every client – both young and old. Borne out of the scrounge of elder financial exploitation, and the increasingly sophisticated methods fraudsters are using to fleece our most vulnerable, the TCP has no trading authority and does not act as an attorney, but is a person of confidence that can be contacted should you be unreachable or if there are concerns about your well-being.

In reaching out to Miss A earlier this new year to formalize the TCP nomination she mentioned to me many times prior, I was met with the drone of her phone ringing on the other end of the line. Normally, we spoke regularly to discuss her investments, as she was long-time, savvy investor whose television was constantly tuned to BNN. Her mathematical acumen was matched only by her wit and fierce independence that was forged as a young girl forced to seek safety in the English countryside as the Blitzkrieg battered London, Southeast England and the Channel Islands. Normally engaged in markets and interested in knowing about the goings-on around the world, my phone calls were to no avail.

The irony that I learned of Miss A’s passing while seeking to complete her trusted contact person form is palpable. Given that she had no children and her extended family was scattered on both sides of the Atlantic, I made a point of ensuring she knew of the services Royal Trust could offer as corporate executors and noted her family members’ coordinates in her client file. She was a wealth of knowledge and experience whose trust I was fortunate to have earned. The discussions we had were personal and the connection we had was human, which gave meaning to the work that I did for her.

Are there others like Miss A out there? Undoubtedly. Are they at risk of being exploited? Unfortunately yes. If I can make a difference by offering advice as a fiduciary and introduce specialist colleagues where necessary, I think it would be the best possible tribute to Miss A.

I can hear her final words to me over the phone, said with a tinge of a British accent; “I’m going to ring off now.”

Goodbye Miss A.