February 11, 2019
Two pairs of leggings, four dresses with pockets, a new rug, two serving bowls, a toilet brush, coffee filters and a platter, a set of glass bakeware with lids. A tablecloth and garden shovel. What’s the theme here?
Let’s see… I bought all but one of them using gift cards. They are useful. We’ve needed most or all of them for months and we’ve been making do without. We now need to declutter 15 MORE things to justify adding so many things to our cabinets and closets. All true.
The biggest thing they have in common: They don’t erase that lingering uneasy feeling about how we’re going to weather the next recession and what further job cuts at our jobs may do to our nascent retirement plans.
Discussing my post and this barely contained feeling of discomfort last week on Twitter with Mr. SSC, he pointed out: one has to have a plan but also have faith that it’ll change, so embrace flexibility. Yeeeeees, but that requires a bendiness of mentality and I’m not yet that evolved.
In part, the crux of this being ill-at-ease is my own fault, not the recession’s. Not that the recession isn’t a big thing, it is, but the bigger problem is we have a couple huge life decisions we can’t seem to get a grip on. They’d likely have an equally, or more, enormous impact on our lives as the recession or a job loss or change in careers. Our waffling is doing neither of us any good but I’m not ready to get into it because I can’t make out head or tails of how I really feel about it. My inner turmoil on those points remains a roiling mass of fog.
Mr. SSC also shared that he’s a stress shopper and boy howdy do I empathize. I’ve been scrolling Amazon deals in a badly concealed panicked state, on a quest to get everything we need for emergencies as if that’ll solve the massive problem of not knowing the shape of the next five years. Thankfully my personal money history means that I’m just wildly window shopping with abandon, but not buying anything. Good habits FTW?
(more…)
March 14, 2016
Do you have a number?
The number that means you’re safe? You can relax, you can enjoy life and kick up your heels a bit? Maybe buy the good cheese, or wine, or really splash out and get both?
This is an emotion question, not a logic one. What number would you need to hit to feel like life is alright?
In 2008, my number wasn’t about net worth; I wasn’t that advanced in my Personal Finance Nin-jit-su. It was salary. It was “do you know how much I could save if I made a $100,000 salary?”
8 years later I still can’t answer that question so now I’ve got two more years to figure it out because arbitrary and deadlines are what I’m all about.
But what’s that number?
Would I feel safe if I had $1M in the bank?
No, that wouldn’t buy a house with four walls and a roof here.
Would I feel safe if we had $2M in the bank?
See above.
Would I feel safe if we had $3M in assets and carried a spare $100 bill in all our wallets?
That’s just asking to be mugged.
Would I feel safe if we had $5M in assets?
If we had $5M, say $1.2 of that was spent on a house, bought outright. We’d need to need 0.8M for renovations since of course nothing for that much is going to be updated and we’ll find something that needs fixing. Tuck away another $1M for maintenance and taxes for at least the next decade.
No, better make it $10M. I think – I’m only speculating here, that I’d feel comfortable to relax, without having changed our basic lifestyle, other than quitting my job and managing money full time, buying a house (and don’t look! I’m just gonna slide this under the wire, adding two more dogs to the pack), if we had at least $10M in assets.
Back up – what was that?
Quitting my job is a change in lifestyle? Not exactly. It’s just redirecting my energy and time to focus on the thing I’m pretty good at. And it’s realistic. I do alright for now, with PiC’s love and support, but nothing is forever.
Specifically, my health could nosedive and force me out of the rat race at any point. The horror show that is trying to get approved for disability can’t possibly get easier as we age, that’s simply not what governments do. It took Mom six years to be approved. She would have been dead on the street in the time it took the state of California to help out with a few hundred a month, long after she’d lost much cognitive function, and the ability to feel reasonably human, if I hadn’t already been working my butt off to keep the lights on, gas in the car, and food on the table.
You’d better believe I took a dang hint from that. I’ve been planning for and saving against forced retirement, reasons of cripplement, since 21. Shoot, I’ve been planning in case of my early demise since I was 22 because when you find yourself in college supporting dependents that you didn’t birth, not even once, life gets serious in a hurry.
$10M is my Happy Place. (I think.)
What’s your Happy Place number? Also, Happy Pi Day!
*Part of Financially Savvy Saturdays on brokeGIRLrich, Disease Called Debt and DIY Jahn*
February 17, 2016
The cynics among us say that we all have a price.
Although my instinct was to reject that truism, it may be true. We all care deeply about something in our lives. Sometimes we care about those things more than our own lives, sometimes they mean more to us than our principles.
Sherry and I were chatting about money as a tool for manipulation. Her extended family has ways they manipulate family members using money and so does mine. In most cases, I’ve gotten a very small dose of the Controlling Juice, but it’s bitter enough to inform my independent streak which has grown a league and a half wide.
Both our families have a cultural tradition of Filial Piety, though it plays out in different ways.
My parents were a mix of traditional and non-traditional in their approach. They instilled in me a sense of responsibility using filial piety, but it was an example, not an expectation. “Big Cousin bought his mom a house because he loved her, wanted her to be comfortable, and because he could afford to. Not everyone can do that so it’s good that he’s been so responsible with his money that he could.”
Showing your love was important, but being sensible was much more important to them. They cherished the salt dough handprint made in kindergarten as a gift as much as anything I bought with my red envelope money. Thanks to those conversations, I knew everything they did for me was out of love, not as a down payment for retirement (and some parental obligation to keep me alive). And everything I did for them was out of love for them (and out of my self-imposed obligation to keep them off the street). Neither of us expected money from each other.
But the idea of bragging rights that Sherry described was absolutely part of the mainstream culture and there was talk in the community of how I was taking care of my parents. No one said a word to me directly, it simply became obvious when I hit 25, “marriageable age”, and suddenly people I’d never met before were coming over for tea and a visit.
It was all a ruse to introduce me to their sons. “This will be a good daughter in law,” they said, “she would take good care of us in our old age.” As if there was no more to me as a person and a potential spouse than my ability or willingness to support my family. But they’re an older generation, maybe there wasn’t anything more important to them.
Obligations, everywhere I looked. Thus, any offer of money is looked at not as a gift, but sideways and scrutinized for intention, strings, and expectations. Is there any situation in which I need money badly enough to take it as a gift rather than taking out a loan?
So far, history says “no.” There’s no situation where I would want something badly enough that I’d take a lien against my integrity for it. If I need it, and can’t afford it, I find a way to pay for it. If I want it, and I can’t afford it, too bad. End of story.
Why so stubborn?
Two reasons, same experience
Number 1: Mom’s family. Immediately after her death, knowing that their behavior to her had been despicable, and was going to be public knowledge now that she was gone, they desperately wanted to look good. In our culture, the way they could fake it would be to pay for her funeral. That way, after treating her like dirt beneath their feet during the worst years of her illness, they could say “Of course we loved her, we paid for her funeral and everything!”
The price tag on “saving face”: $7,000
They harassed me endlessly, from the moment they knew I was coming back to arrange the funeral, to the moment the funeral began. CLASSY.
I didn’t consider it for a second. I also didn’t give them the courtesy of an answer. I just ignored them and wrote the check, letting the few sane elements of the family tell them to Back Off. A few of them went a bit further and pointed out that, money notwithstanding, I’d always taken care of my family. It’d be a cold day in Hell that I’d accept a handout from them, even if I went into debt in the refusal.
They were right, of course.
I didn’t go into debt but nothing would have convinced me to give them the satisfaction and I don’t regret it for a millisecond.
Number 2: I grew up poor. In most cases, money gifts within closer members of the family are just part of cultural traditions and mean nothing more than well-wishing. But in cases where there’s great disparity between the giver and the recipient, “gifts” become “charity.” And like it or not, charitable giving is considered a virtue, charity acceptance is not. By the same token, someone who gives to charity is good. But someone who needs charity is looked at through a different lens, one where they’re judged, and found wanting. I learned quite early on, there is so much stigma around accepting help that I wasn’t willing to ask for help of any kind.
What if the situation had been different?
What if she was still alive and they offered money for her medical care, money that I couldn’t afford at the time? I’d already paid over thousands to fix her terribly painful dental situation. I’d already paid hundreds of thousands for their living expenses, over the previous ten years, and that’s after I’d paid several tens of thousands of their debt. All of this before my salary reached $60,000, annually.
What if they had offered me enough money to buy her good health insurance?
What if they had offered me enough money to ensure some level of stability, as a hedge against my ill health, loss of income, and homelessness?
For nearly two decades, I’ve dedicated my life to save, invest, and plan for the worst possible scenario. We’re not free and clear yet but that self reliance and drive has gotten us pretty far down the road. Ten years ago, though, it wasn’t clear if and when I’d get clear.
What if I’d been offered an easier way out that could have saved Mom some suffering, for some unspecified obedience or compliance, all those years ago? Would I have swallowed my pride and taken it? I hate to think that I would cave but in hindsight, knowing that my best efforts weren’t enough to help her, the smart money is on YES.
What if it was an outrageous amount of money?
Barring the scenario above, the highly unlikely theoretical in which my mom’s family cared enough about her to offer me help to help her (they didn’t), what if the situation was less about your need, and more about the amount?
What if it was millions? Billions?
There’s a point at which our instincts must be to start rationalizing how much good you could do with that money, isn’t there? I know mine starts to say, with $5M, you could do a lot of good. With $5B, you could do a whole lot more than that. You could, for this outlandish amount, put up with the price of [something really annoying].
Or substitute “do a lot of good” with whatever it is you’d want to do.
Would it be worth accepting the money with one hand, and a possible shackle on the other?
If we’re talking purely in currency, how big would the bucket of money have to be for you to willingly walk away from what you believe? What would you be willing to sacrifice, or tolerate? If we’re talking about valuable gifts not calculated in currency, like good health, what would you think, then?
*Part of Financially Savvy Saturdays on brokeGIRLrich, Disease Called Debt and Frugality 2 Freedom*
March 12, 2014
A good friend and I were talking about money, charity and volunteering one day and he expressed an opinion that took me aback.
We’re so often in agreement given our remarkably similar backgrounds, we put ourselves through school, supported our families from a young age, worked really hard for a long time to get where we are, that I struggled to understand why he was against volunteering and charity.
While I feel that I worked really hard to get here, I didn’t get here without help; he feels that he worked really hard to get here and doesn’t feel that he got any help so he doesn’t feel he should give back to the community at large. Granted, we didn’t travel the exact same path but it’s hard for me to fathom overlooking the small kindnesses of strangers, like the support from a guidance counselor or a colleague who lobbied for your job security. These are the kinds of things that, though small, add up. They make a difference.
Pat Rothfuss, one of my favorite writers and a stand-up kind of guy, explained it far better than I managed that day:
The simple truth is, Jason, at this point in my life, I have enough money to live comfortably. And in my opinion, if you have enough money to live comfortably and you keep trying to get more and more and more money… well… it’s kind of an asshole thing to do.
It’s like this: if you have one piece of cake, and you eat it, that’s fine.
If you have two pieces of cake, you should probably share some with a friend. But maybe not. Occasionally we could all use two pieces of cake.
But if you have a whole cake, and you eat *all* of it, that’s not very cool. It’s not just selfish, it’s kinda sick and unhealthy.
[…]
That’s why I do all the charity work. Because the world isn’t as good as I want it to be.
I don’t have a better explanation than that for why I felt compelled to help those who have less. “The world isn’t as good as I want it to be”, so, let’s do something about that.
I don’t belong to the “have too many cakes” camp, particularly since I still support two adult dependents who aren’t my children, but while I aim to become that kind of wealthy someday, I don’t need to be that wealthy to want to make a difference. I can’t save any one person but sometimes a helping hand is all you need, sometimes it gives you enough hope to scrape yourself off the floor and keep going.
And that’s why I still give. Even though I’m all about personal responsibility and bootstrapping, I remember when a kind gesture was enough to help me do another job, fight another day.
PiC and I get an annual spending allowance out of our shared budget. This is purely for us to spend, however we want, that has nothing to do with necessities which are covered. It’s not much, but it’s not little either.
I usually hoard mine (SMAAUUGGGG) but this year, I’m making a conscious effort to give between 10-20% to meaningful charities.
Pat Rothfuss’s Worldbuilders was one: This was a massive fundraising drive to donate to Heifer International. They do good work, without much waste, and helping people make their own livelihood resonates with me.
Nathan Fillion and his Clean Water campaign for his birthday is another. I love my Captain and I love clean water for people. I remember, growing up, hearing the stories of how the people in our villages had to carry their water, in buckets, up from the streams. Backbreaking work for survival.
Last, and most dear to my heart, the Humane Society & Rescue Organization where we adopted Doggle. Rescuing animals: FTW!
Also, as always, I’ll be collecting things that are in good shape but we really don’t need anymore and donating them to charity that can use them: homeless and battered women/children’s shelters.
Which side of the fence do you stand on? What are your thoughts on the subject?
If you liked this post and found value in it, I’d appreciate your pin and shares.
March 5, 2013
Sometimes I think the world needs to hear this a little more often.
This is a bit of a follow-on thought from the Marissa Mayer post, and partly inspired by a comment I absolutely agreed with from Cloud’s post, bold emphasis mine.
Laura Vanderkam said “I get annoyed with the carping at successful women for reasons of privilege, etc. When Donald Trump writes a book on success, no one says “well, that’s easy for him to say because someone else is cleaning his bathrooms” or “of course he’s successful because he can afford a nanny.” People who reach the top often have interesting things to say about what it takes to reach the top. Sometimes it’s helpful to listen or read without judging, and if you decide it’s wrong for you, fine. But if a strategy is wrong for you, that doesn’t make someone who used it, ipso facto, a bad person. Yes, I’m referring to the Sheryl Sandberg backlash, but this mindset is out there a lot.”
This is the thing that underlies my frustration with the tearing down of women in specific and people in general when they’re successful. The whiny, self crippling, justifications of why we can’t possibly be “like that” because we’re not privileged.
Many kinds of privilege exists. Absolutely. And in some places, the privilege is truly crippling, I’m not disputing that.
What I am tired of is that the vast majority of people complaining tend to be at least capable, competent of mind and body, and have access to first world amenities that are potential tools. Instead, they dwell on why that won’t work for them.
It makes me think of a story …
…my dad used to tell me of the poor region where he grew up. He was one of the few privileged back then but he clearly recognized the privations that were the norm for the majority of people as recently as 30 years ago, even 15 years ago. He told us this story many, many times.
“Most of the people were so poor that they had one change of clothing a year. If they made enough money to buy fabric, and could afford a needle and thread to sew, they could make a new pair of pants for themselves. Maybe with pockets. Probably not. But, pants.
Their families didn’t have enough money for three meals a day for everyone, they could have one full meal a day. But they were hungry for education. They couldn’t afford books, paper, pens or pencils. Still, they were determined to learn. And unlike here in the U.S., education was not a right. It was a privilege.
The students were so desperate for the chance to learn that they would walk upwards of ten miles to school, and the classes were so big that the students wouldn’t fit into the classroom. So they opened the doors and windows, and the students would sit outside on the ground and listen. They couldn’t take notes, there was no paper, so they memorized the lectures. They had to review the lessons orally.
They had to study this hard because there was an annual exam to pass each grade. If you didn’t memorize everything, you were dropped out of school. And the exam covered everything that was taught through the year. With the limited resources, there was no such thing as grading on a curve, the students who failed would leave the school and have to figure out how to make a living with a grade school education, or however far they got. This was high stakes.
With no tools, with no aids, many of these students – your mother was among them – managed to learn math, science, reading, writing, language at each progressively more difficult level.
No pens, no paper, no computers. But they found a way to learn anyway. What do you need to learn and prosper?
If those people in our generation can figure out how to learn, progress and make successful lives with literally no resources but a sparing food ration, time during the day, their minds and their motivation, can you honestly say there’s anything you truly can’t do?”
No Dad, I couldn’t say that. If I don’t make something of myself, it sure won’t ever be blamed on a lack of privilege.
I was never the smartest kid around but I could damn well try to be the hardest working. With that kind of heritage, that kind of cultural past, I could hardly cop out by making excuses, could I?
I’ve written about my mom as my motivation more than once. I realized that my dad hasn’t gotten as much airtime. Where Mom was the tower of strength and capability in all things, teaching us language in her “spare time, and demonstrating work ethic alongside Dad, Dad was the storyteller in the family, the one who made the past live again for us, linking us to the family and cultural histories.
What’s your inspiration?
February 4, 2013
Vanessa and I started an interesting conversation on Twitter when I failed to fully grok her meaning behind these tweets:
This surprised me because: I enjoy a good hot drink from Starbucks once in a while and I certainly would love a European vacation. The fact that I haven’t taken one yet is to do with lack of time, money and general coordination. No discrimination either: I’d like a Canadian vacation, a New Zealand vacation, an Australian vacation among numerous other destinations I don’t have time to reel off.
I’ve always considered myself a PF blogger, first and foremost. Certainly for the first 90% of this blog’s existence, I was Tightwad Extraordinaire. But things have changed, as they should, as I earned more and became more financially stable.
The idea that everything but tightwaddery is roundly and generally condemned by PF bloggers comes as a bit of a surprise especially when PF bloggers themselves feel it’s the official theme song. I mean: it’s personal finance.
It’s not Finance for the Good of the People.
It’s not Finance by Fiat.
It’s not Finance: As Long As We All Approve.
The Asian Pear joined the conversation with some elaborations on what is evidently known in the General Standards for PF bloggers.
PF bloggers, we hate life and choice?
Once again, I’m a PF blogger. (Perhaps I’ve been booted out of the “the club” and didn’t know it?) Either way, I do not identify with these general terms and I don’t feel like the people I read or converse with do either. It seems a bit of a shame, in my opinion, if the trend is so clear. Though not to me, apparently I’m oblivious.
My Take
While, no, I don’t think financing living room sets or pricey televisions is a good idea, particularly because I have experience with how shitty that turns out for the responsible person in the household (*cough* family *cough* thanks!), I don’t have any issue with people making life choices that suit the individual. You want to enjoy life? You have the money to pay for it? Excellent. Go for it.
You want stuff and you don’t have the money for it? Well, probably not the best idea. Do what you will, please don’t natter at me if it doesn’t work out. I’ll also choose not to read if it’s a blogger who uses their blog to expound on the many failures and failings of life. We all have a choice here.
I will cop to enabling friend bloggers to buy stuff they’d like but only after I’ve established that it fits in with their principles. (Do they abhor debt beyond anything else? Then would this incur debt? Do they prioritize food over things and feel guilty for spending on more things? Would they be annoyed later that they had more stuff than they can appreciate?) If I’m asked, I will render an opinion. But those are my friends. I only want the best for them and I can suggest one thing or another based on knowing their values.
Otherwise, I only have observational comments for you because it’s Not. My. Life. If flamethrowing commences, which sounds a little bit like what my fellow Tweeters were saying, that’s a bit much.
Unless you plan on subjecting me to your whining over the results of your “bad” decisions (doubt it, I’m too mean for that) or it’s going to materially affect me in some way (again, doubtful), then I really can’t say that I feel like anyone’s life decisions requires much of my concern. Doesn’t mean I might not suggest that a course of action might be more or less advantageous than another if I happen to have had experience with the situation but I completely understand that not everyone is soliciting advice. And as Oil and Garlic mused, even when they do, that doesn’t mean they intend to follow it. So, as a friend says, “nothing to do with me.”
So what’s up with the “Judgy McJudgerson”-type rules of a PF blogger?
Did we (not we, “they”) form a club from which the Commandments are issued over what is good or right and what is bad or wrong when it comes to money and you’re signing on the dotted line to be subject to mockery and derision if you take a different path? Therefore, you have to hide your “unpopular” decisions lest you be judged and summarily executed?
That would a) suck and b) be rather stupid.
Again, I cite “personal finance is personal.” Sure, there are general rules of thumb that make a lot of sense but they’re just general and blindly insisting on rules of thumb aren’t how to run a household or live a lifestyle for each and every one.
I’m not your PF keeper, and you aren’t mine.
Now, I see the general assery that people get up to on the “anonymous” Internets. As a lover of comics who enjoys the occasional sporting event and has various other interests, there’s a particular theme, a common phenomenon perhaps. I see cyclical preoccupation with validating whether or not you’re good enough to carry the card of the in-crowd, whether you BELONG: this is where crap like “fake geek girl”, “geek cred”, the “bandwagon fan”, “fair weather fans” sprouts and thrives.
It’s been referred to as a fandom problem, a genre problem or something specific to the subject. But across the span of occurrences, it really just looks like it’s a people problem.
Our version is apparently at least in part perpetuating a hate-disdain cycle that Miss JJ calls out.
As such, I would like to propose: it’s your money and your life. Do what works for you. Also (Wheaton’s Law) don’t be a dick.
Your thoughts?
Is this as simple as failing the Civility test or is there something more going on? Being controversial for the page views, perhaps? Some people do believe that drama or increase chatter = success.
Note: Turns out MochiMac and I were channeling each other.
October 7, 2011
I’ve never had to trick myself into saving, ever. Obviously. But I do have opinions that aren’t always in line with what’s “best” for me on a daily basis. Opinions that might sound a lot like: I hate this job I hate these people I hate this job! Her post reminded me of a dark and grumpy period when that was a daily refrain in my life.
I knew why I was sticking it out for at least a while longer – there were a lot of practical reasons.
I was learning the ropes of that job, of the industry and needed to really master as much as possible before I made my next move. There’s a natural break between levels of mastery, levels of maturity, at any job or in any work you do, and I was bound and determined to move up the next level before or when I left. I refused to make a lateral move or flounder in between an entry level which, in the newly breaking recession, boded ill for my upward movement just as much as a lateral move.
The job itself was paying for all the things at home, and was flexible enough for me to be there for my parents.
Buuut that didn’t change the Awful of the people I worked with or the Horrid of the .. people I worked with. Etc. So, to get through my days while I was Learning All the Things, I thought: how do I focus on Not the Horrible?
There was no positive thinking to be had at that time, in that place, so I had to bring the positive to me. I printed out a pretty picture of a place far far away. It had horses, it had amazing hot springs, it was really far away. I cannot emphasize how strongly that last point commended itself to me. There was no way on heaven or earth I could have afforded to go there. There was no sense in even dreaming of going there in real life. But it didn’t matter. I had a lovely picture of the hot springs, and an Icelandic horse and as each day tightened or loosened its noose, I focused on breathing in however I imagined hot springs air to smell and breathing out the stress.
I hugged a horse in my mind and smiled. And smiled in real life because even though I had no idea, still don’t, whether I would ever actually want to go to Iceland, it was saving my sanity one day at a time.
Iceland, and the bet on experience, paid off, by the way.
:: When’s the last time you lied, tricked or distracted yourself into doing something good for you?