I didn't spend a lot time talking once the talking was done. In the spirit of Nike, before Nike even had an inkling of their spirit, I just did it.

I'm not being immodest; I'm just trying to make a point. Allow me, however, to first set the table.

Many recognize the invaluable benefits provided by fiduciaries to their clients.

We see this in the movement away from constant “investment talk” to an increased focus on “retirement readiness” (see “401k Plan Sponsors Shift from Investment Focus to Emphasizing Retirement Readiness,” FiduciaryNews.com, January 5, 2015).

Indeed, veteran fiduciaries can navigate through their duties like they were the back of their hand. The appearance of effortlessness does not diminish the quality–or the results–of their work.

Unfortunately, “results” often float in the cloud of immeasurability. That's when things can get dicey.

This is especially true in the retirement arena. We cannot measure the success of any fiduciary service until many years into the future.

Through those years, the data that can be measured features a rather volatile nature. You're up. You're down. One minute you're ridin' high in April. The next you're shot down in May.

These fluctuations, though acute they seem in the near-term, matter little in the grand scheme of things.

For the typical retirement saver, the short-term harkens like a tempting Lorelei, sensuously beckoning the naïve to shipwreck their savings on the rocky shore of near-sightedness.

For this reason, an experienced fiduciary proves irreplaceable.

Because a true fiduciary is not beholden to any particular product (and for those of you thinking this, a “style” is not a product, it's a philosophy), who better is suited to dissuade the retirement saver from succumbing to the sizzle of the latest investing fad?

Yet, it is the very selling of the sizzle that generates much of the “measurable” the public finds so alluring. And by “measurable,” I mean exuding in observable (if not ostentatious) effort.

In a sense, the cool, calmness of reliable efficiency fails to demonstrate the kind of effort we have since our days on the fields of so many playgrounds been taught to adulate, emulate, and, finally, reward.

I'm not talking about events in the actual game, I'm referring to what happens in practice.

The coach wants you to run your fastest, jump your highest, and hit your hardest. If you neglect to display the appropriate effort, you'll never get the chance to achieve the results you'd like to when the time comes to play the game. You'll be riding the bench.

Such is at once the dilemma and the challenge of the fiduciary.

On one hand, if you do your job too well, you know you should receive bountiful rewards.

On the other hand, if doing your job too well makes it suggest you're not putting forth the effort, not only are you likely to get passed over for that reward you so richly deserve, but there's an equal chance someone who is much better at showmanship will replace you.

Which brings us back to my opening braggadocio. When the time came for the rewards to be distributed, I found myself on the short end of the stick. Why?

It wasn't based on the merits. No one had created new business lines like I did. No one had generated marginal profit like I did (indeed, no one has generated marginal profit–period).

In fact, no one had accomplished as much as I did, no one was more publicly recognized, and no one had the same potential to succeed without the being coddled by the firm.

But they all had one thing I did not: They all put in more hours at the office than I did.

It didn't matter that I could do more in eight hours than they could ever do in sixteen. They showed the proper effort. I didn't.

They got the brass ring. I didn't. They stayed at that firm. I didn't.

And I've since accomplished more than I could ever dream of.

The fiduciary cannot confuse effort with results. The fiduciary cannot allow others to define his worth. Not everyone values what a fiduciary offers. The fiduciary must recognize this and, quite simply, not waste the unwanted effort on these people.

Does that sound harsh? I've reported in the past that the fiduciary has an obligation to make the difficult decision.

This applies not only to the best interests of the client, but the best interests of the fiduciary.