The hour costs nothing. Guessing costs plenty. And because Meridian is fee-only — paid a flat fee, never a commission — there is no product waiting for you at the end of this meeting. Just answers, written down, yours to keep.
★★★★★
4.9 · 143 reviews — Fairview & the Tri-County area
Pick a time, add your details. No card, no commitment, no prep beyond your statements.
3 of 12 times this week are already takenMost "free consultations" in this industry are a funnel toward a product with a commission attached. Meridian was built so that pitch is impossible — not promised away, structurally removed.
I'm paid one transparent flat fee by my clients — and by no one else. No fund company, no insurance carrier, no brokerage pays me a nickel for anything I recommend to you.
I sign a fiduciary oath with every household I work with: your interest first, always, legally. Ask any advisor you meet to sign one. Watch what happens.
There is no annuity, no fund family, no policy waiting at the end of your free hour. I couldn't earn a commission if I tried — which means the advice is the product, and it's already yours.
This isn't a chat about the weather with a brochure at the end. It's a working session with a fixed agenda, and you keep everything we produce.
We lay your statements on the table and build a plain-English snapshot: what you own, what you owe, and what it's quietly doing while you're busy living your life.
Retirement pace — are you on track or just hoping? Tax drag — what you're giving away without noticing. Protection holes — the insurance and estate gaps that only matter on the worst day of your life.
Three specific moves to make this quarter, written down in order, in English. It's yours to keep and act on — with me, with another advisor, or entirely on your own.
A free consultation only works if it's the right room for you. Read both columns before you book — it'll save us both an hour.
Recognized yourself in the left column? That's who the calendar is for.
Show me the open timesFree hour · no card · no obligation
Everyone walks in braced for a sales ambush. Here's what two Fairview households actually walked out with.
“I kept waiting for the sales pitch. It never came. He looked at fifteen years of 401(k) statements I'd never really read, showed me two funds that were quietly eating me alive in fees, and wrote three things on a single page. I did all three that month. Nobody called me afterward — I called him.”
“We'd met two advisors before Marcus. Both meetings ended with a product and a deadline. This one ended with a plan and a handshake. My wife said it on the drive home: that's the first person who talked about our retirement like it was ours and not his commission.”
No budget, no spreadsheet, no homework. Grab your latest statements — screenshots count — and show up. That's the entire assignment.
You get your one-page plan by email the next morning. No drip campaign, no weekly check-in calls, no "just circling back." Ever.
If you want a second meeting, you book it — same calendar, same zero pressure. If you don't, the plan is still yours and we part as neighbors.
Twelve consultation slots open each week. Three are already gone. Pick one, bring the statements, and get the answer to "am I going to be okay?" — in writing.
Pick my time — it's freeNo card · no obligation · no follow-up pressure. Worst case, you leave with a free plan.
I'll walk you through my reasoning the way I would across a desk — because this page sells an hour across a desk, and every choice on it exists to make that hour feel safe to book.
The person landing here has a decent 401(k), a mortgage, maybe kids — and a nagging feeling they should be "doing something." They're not in crisis. They're in low-grade, years-long uncertainty, and they clicked because someone finally offered an answer instead of a product. Everything on the page respects that they're cautious, not desperate.
The engine here is security: "am I going to be okay?" is one of the most powerful questions in marketing. But there's a second current — a full hour of an expert's undivided attention on your numbers makes an ordinary household feel important. The page sells both: the answer, and the experience of being taken seriously.
Everyone believes a free financial consultation is a trap with an annuity at the bottom. So the headline block confronts it head-on: fee-only, no commissions, nothing to sell. When the planner's business model structurally removes the pitch, the objection doesn't need to be argued away — it just needs to be stated. That's why "I can't sell you anything" gets its own section.
This is rung one of the value ladder: a small, complete, genuinely useful service given free. The hour answers the burning question and — more importantly — lets the visitor experience working with this planner before any money moves. Advisory relationships are trust purchases; nobody buys trust from a headline. They sample it. This page is the sampling mechanism.
Clicking a time slot is the cheapest possible first commitment — no typing, no personal data, just a tap that says "Tuesday could work." Once someone has picked a slot, the three contact fields feel like finishing, not starting. The crossed-out taken slots add honest scarcity: this calendar has traffic. That's the staggered-form principle wearing a scheduler's clothes.
Above the fold, right column, visible before a single scroll — because the ad already made the offer and the page's only job is to catch the yes. Three fields is the ceiling: name, email, phone are answerable off the top of anyone's head. Every extra question on a booking form is a percentage of your leads walking away.
Dark, formal, signed — deliberately styled like a document rather than a marketing section. "Fee-only" is this planner's version of giving up leverage: he's showing you he removed his own incentive to mislead you. I gave it the visual weight of a contract because that's the emotional job it does.
Vagueness kills bookings. "Let's chat about your goals" sounds like an ambush; "fifteen minutes on where you stand, then the three gaps, then your one-page plan" sounds like a professional running a meeting. Numbered, timed, concrete — the visitor can rehearse the hour in their head before committing to it.
Turning away day-traders and tip-hunters costs zero real bookings and buys enormous credibility. A page willing to say "skip it" earns the right to be believed when it says "book it." It also pre-qualifies: the planner's calendar fills with the right hours, which is worth more than a fuller calendar.
Status proof (4.9, 143 reviews, 18 years) establishes that the business is real. But the testimonials are chosen to do a sharper job: both quote the exact fear — waiting for the pitch that never came. Proof converts hardest when it narrates the reader's own objection and resolves it in someone else's voice.
"Hold my hour — free," "Show me the open times," "Pick my time." Every button is low-temperature and possession-framed — the visitor is claiming something that's already theirs, not submitting to something. And a door back to the calendar appears roughly every screen-height, because decisions happen mid-scroll, not at the bottom.
It can't be, structurally. A fee-only planner earns nothing from any product — no fund commissions, no insurance kickbacks, no trailing fees. There is literally nothing on the shelf to pitch.
The worst case for you is that you spend an hour, take the written plan, and never come back. That's an acceptable outcome for both sides — and the page says so out loud, because the fastest way to kill the "sales ambush" fear is to name it.
Your most recent statements — 401(k) or 403(b), any brokerage or IRA accounts, and your mortgage statement. Screenshots on your phone are fine. Rough numbers are fine.
You do not need a budget, a spreadsheet, or any preparation beyond finding the statements. If you can't find one, come anyway.
Then you are exactly who this hour is for. People with immaculate spreadsheets rarely book a free consultation — people with a drawer full of unopened statements do.
A planner has seen every version of the mess, and the whole point of the session is to turn the mess into three clear next moves. Nobody is grading you.
The honest catch: some people who take the free hour later decide they want ongoing planning, and that's how the planner earns a living. That's the whole business model, stated plainly.
But the hour is complete on its own — you leave with a written one-page plan whether or not you ever come back, and there is no obligation and no follow-up pressure either way.
No. After the session you get one email with your one-page plan attached. That's the entire follow-up. If you want a second conversation, you book it — the calendar works the same way it did the first time.
A planner who has to chase people for business is telling you something about their planning.
Yes — and that's not a gotcha, it's how a good lead magnet works. The free consultation is a small, genuinely useful service that answers your burning question ("am I on track?") while letting you experience what working with this planner is like.
If the hour is valuable, some people become clients. If it isn't, nobody does. The incentives point the right way: the only way this page works for the business is by actually being useful to you first.