A Laser, a Sale, and My Portfolio’s Existential Dread

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So, Raymond Link, a member of nLIGHT’s board – a company that, let’s be honest, sounds like it should be selling mood lighting for submarines – sold a chunk of his stock. Twenty-five thousand, four hundred and four shares, to be precise. Roughly $1.6 million worth. It’s enough to make you reassess your life choices, especially when you’re staring at a brokerage account that mostly reflects impulsive purchases of vintage board games and a regrettable foray into artisanal cheese futures.

I spent a good hour trying to decipher the SEC filing, which, as far as I can tell, is designed to be read only by lawyers and masochists. Apparently, this wasn’t a panicked, fire-sale kind of transaction. Mr. Link had a plan. A Rule 10b5-1 trading plan, to be exact. It sounds like a tax code section, doesn’t it? All very responsible. He set it up in December, presumably while everyone else was busy battling relatives and pretending to enjoy eggnog. It’s the kind of foresight I lack. I usually only plan things like what flavor of instant ramen to buy.

The sale represented about 25% of his direct holdings. That’s a significant chunk. It’s like realizing your favorite aunt has quietly started downsizing her collection of porcelain dolls. You try not to read too much into it, but a nagging feeling persists. Is it a sign? Are we all doomed? Probably not, but I’ve learned to trust my anxieties.

Now, nLIGHT itself. They make lasers. Not the kind you use to point at things during presentations (though I suspect they could make a very impressive presentation laser). These are high-powered lasers for industrial stuff, microfabrication, and, naturally, aerospace and defense. It all sounds terribly important. They’ve been doing well. Revenue is up 71% in the last quarter. That’s a lot of lasers. Their stock has gone up 601% in the last year. Which means, if I’d invested a year ago, I could be… well, I’d still probably be buying vintage board games, but with a slightly less guilty conscience.

The stock is currently trading at a price-to-sales ratio of 12. My financial advisor (a very patient man) says that’s high. “Pricey,” he calls it. I prefer to think of it as “optimistically valued.” He suggested selling. I resisted. I’m a stubborn person. And, frankly, I’m afraid of making the wrong decision. It’s easier to just… wait. And worry. And occasionally check the stock price while pretending to work.

The company’s snapshot reveals a market capitalization of $3.49 billion and revenue of $261.33 million. I tried to visualize what that much money would look like. It mostly just made me feel inadequate.

So, what does all this mean for investors? Well, if you’re thinking of buying, maybe wait for a dip. Let someone else take the initial risk. As for me, I’m going to continue to hold, mostly out of spite. And perhaps, just perhaps, start researching the resale value of vintage board games.

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2026-03-17 03:05