I Never Bothered With This Star Sign Nonsense
You wanna know the truth about daily predictions? I always figured it was just vague, cheap talk designed to make you click something and feel like you had some control. I mean, “Be careful with a financial decision today”? Who isn’t supposed to do that? Total garbage, right?
But then I started reading this Jeff Prince guy, specifically for Virgo, and not because I’m some spiritual guru looking for cosmic advice. Nah. I clicked it because I had just messed up, and I mean REALLY messed up, to the tune of a lost contract that cost me about six months of salary.
How I Ended Up Tracking Some Guy Named Jeff Prince
The whole reason I even got into this was a disaster last Spring. I was supposed to close a huge deal. It was a sure thing. I’d been working on the damn thing for a year, setting up everything perfect. The week before the closing signature, I got cocky. I ignored three separate red flags from my gut—stuff about the client’s partner getting edgy and a weird feeling about their rushed timeline.
I walked into that meeting, they threw a curveball, and I choked. The whole thing blew up. Lost the client, lost the deal, lost my standing. My wife kept saying, “You never listen to the signs!” Which, naturally, I shot down instantly. “What signs? The stars? Get real.”
But for weeks, I was in a hole, just staring at the ceiling. I started spiraling, thinking I needed a literal signpost telling me what to do next. So, what did I do? I went looking for signposts. Not God, not a therapist, but some random internet guy talking about my damn birthday. Pathetic, I know, but I was desperate.
The Practice: Breaking Down Monday’s Prediction
I found this Jeff Prince piece, the one that said, “Don’t start your week without this prediction!” It felt dramatic, so I figured, fine, I’ll play the game. I treated it like a technical spec sheet I had to follow for a week, just to prove it was useless, or maybe, maybe not.
The prediction for that Monday, the start of my little experiment, was all over the place. I wrote it down in my notepad, breaking it down into actionable points.
- “A sudden shift in a close partnership requires meticulous review.” (Vague, but usually means a work contact or my wife.)
- “Avoid signing documents or committing to new debt before midday.” (Clear. Nothing financial until after 1 PM.)
- “Focus your energy on clearing the clutter that impedes future progress.” (Could mean cleaning my desk, or maybe deleting old emails. I chose the latter.)
I figured, okay, I will actively try to fail the first two, just to see what happens, but then I changed my mind. The memory of losing that big contract was too fresh. So I decided to follow it to the letter, for one day, to shut up that little voice.
The Execution and The Day’s Mess
Monday morning, I felt ridiculous. My first email was to a guy I considered a long-time partner. I was ready to send the drafted proposal for a joint venture, but the prediction was screaming about “sudden shifts” and “meticulous review.” I paused. I went back to his last five emails, re-reading every single line. It took me an hour.
I finally noticed something I had totally glazed over the week before: a tiny, throwaway line about his company restructuring and him possibly shifting roles next month. It was buried in a P.S. section. If I had sent that joint proposal, I would have committed him to something he was about to lose the authority to sign for. I would have been negotiating with the wrong person and wasted weeks.
I immediately scrapped the proposal and instead sent a vague, “Checking in on your restructuring situation,” email. He called me an hour later, shocked I even knew. He admitted that the proposal would have been worthless next week. Crisis averted.
The Rest of the Day and The Realization
The rest of the day was just as annoying. I had a quick paperwork thing for a new health plan. It was 11:30 AM. My mind instantly screamed: “AVOID SIGNING BEFORE MIDDAY.” I forced myself to wait 90 minutes. I ate lunch, staring at the clock, feeling like an idiot.
When I finally came back to the documents at 1:00 PM, I quickly skimmed them. Nothing major. But, because I had 90 extra minutes to kill, I was still reviewing the old policy documents—the ones I was replacing. And I figured out that one tiny coverage detail I needed wasn’t being transferred correctly to the new plan. It took me 20 minutes to call the agent and fix it. If I had signed at 11:30 AM, I wouldn’t have even looked at the old one, and I would have lost that coverage.
Did the stars align for me? No. That’s garbage. But I’ll tell you exactly what happened: I acted on the premise that a disaster was waiting, so I moved slow, I checked my work, and I paid attention to details I usually rush past.
The universe didn’t save me. Reading that goofy blog post just forced me to slow my damn self down, re-read the fine print, and stop being so arrogant. That’s the real practice I shared with myself that week. I didn’t need a horoscope; I just needed a mental boot camp pretending a horoscope was the boss. That’s the only prediction that matters.
