Investing is sometimes a confusing endeavor. While most people understand the wisdom of long-term investing, there is always a temptation to invest in the latest speculative fad. Recently, GameStop (symbol “GME”) provided such an enticement. The stock, representing a company that sold and repurchased video games, started the year at about $18 per share. Many “professional” investors made significant market bets that GameStop was going to file for bankruptcy. Hence, there existed a large “short interest” whereby investors sold the stock with the intention of repurchasing it later at a much lower price. Ironically, this mirrored GameStop’s own business model, whereby they sell you a new video game at the full price and buy it back later for a fraction of it. Enter Robinhood and Reddit which, like a runaway train of memes and free trades, enabled and encouraged millions of individual investors to buy GameStop. This, coupled with a need for short sellers to buy the stock, fueled tremendous demand which caused GameStop to soar to over $480 per share, on an intraday basis.

About the time the stock was trading around $350 per share, a friend, and someone I’d describe as a good investor, called me to ask about investing in GameStop. He wanted to know what I thought. My answer? I had no idea what the stock would do the next day. When pressed for an opinion, I stated the stock could double to $700 – or go to $0. At first, my friend seemed intrigued. I am fairly certain he heard the $700 and not the $0 as a potential outcome. He asked again for my advice. I told him that our conversation was not really about investing, but instead about speculation. I asked what he planned to invest and offered, instead of buying GameStop, to flip a coin or cut cards for the amount. He was not amused. I then suggested a trip to Vegas and advised him to put the amount on red or black in roulette. Then, by my way of thinking, he might at least score a free drink and a room. At this point, my friend thanked me for my advice and hung up. I do not recall him saying goodbye. I am fairly confident he did not invest in GameStop.

Of course, today, the stock is around $45. I don’t fault my friend, or anyone else, for being enchanted by the strange saga of GME. It represents one of those great, confounding collisions of technology and culture. With the very idea of a “meme stock,” the dwellers of Reddit’s r/wallstreetbets have shown us the possibility of a strange new mingling of social media and financial markets. Meanwhile, with apps like Robinhood in hand, anyone can jump in on the speculation. It’s as easy as playing Daily Fantasy Football. The optimist in me wants to see these trends mature, to live up to the promise of democratizing investing while increasing general financial literacy. The realist in me fears that we will see little more than the occasional speculative flare-up, like the release of a new Beanie Baby – fueled by the savings of those who can afford it least. To me, the most important thing to remind people is not to get caught up in the fear of missing out. Despite the new technologies, apps, and platforms that surround it, the core story of GME is a very old one – and the ending never changes.