Frugaling

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If I Were Rich, Would I Still Be Frugal?

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Thanksgiving Dinner, Wishing I Was Rich

For my first year of graduate school in Iowa City, I wasn’t able to get back to see family for Thanksgiving. Motivated by the irony and sadness of spending the holiday alone, I watched a sappy movie and ate a cold turkey sandwich. This sorry state was only amplified by my linoleum/concrete floors that were like permafrost ice blocks for my feet, and the dingy, yellowish light of my apartment. All I could think was, “If I were rich, how would this be different?”

Dreams of a vacation I didn’t have

Presumably, I would’ve sat near the front of the airplane — speeding to my destination. The service would’ve been better, too. Maybe I could’ve afforded a first-class ticket. Perhaps this could be a regular weekend getaway. Luggage fees wouldn’t have been usury and awful — just mere pennies to my millions. Although, I probably would not have needed to pay for those fees anyways, as my credit cards and connections would lead to waivers. Either way, I would’ve been wealthy enough to afford whatever outcome. I would never stand in front of a ticket counter, after buying a ticket online, and be surprised that there’s an additional bag fee — breaking my budget and robbing me of my little available savings.

Finally at my destination’s airport, I would’ve rented a car. Not just any car, but a luxury vehicle to speed around the mean streets — something familiar and like my lifestyle. Again, I would have enjoyed the whisk and breeze of skipping lines, priority rentals, and free upgrades. My parents, family, and friends wouldn’t have needed to worry about me; I’d show up on time, no help and reliance necessary. Time would continually be on my side, as waiting would be heavily reduced.

As I walked through the airport, and saw the nice luggage and bags, I could have looked them up on my phone and instantly purchased my own. I wouldn’t need to hesitate to buy something so practical and helpful. Why not get some class with a Louis Vuitton set? Throw in those shoes, too! Traveling in style feels better.

Going home, I would have been excited to see all the friends and family I could. But I’d have to look sharp. Maybe I could stop by my favorite barber for a cleanup? My photos would be filled with the material goods that ooze success. I could show my parents, in person, what they had raised — that I had picked up my bootstraps and become a capitalistic achievement. They could be proud of my wealth and ability.

Thanksgiving without family, but not without heart

Reality is a cold shower. I can’t remember the last time I purchased something and didn’t feel guilty, nervous, and anxious for the added expense. I had looked at plane tickets for this Thanksgiving, but at nearly $500 plus airport shuttle fees, I couldn’t afford it. In a way, it felt like I was forced into frugality, without a choice (unless you consider debt to be an option, which I don’t).

As my friends and the rest of this consummate college town fled their studies and small-town lives for another location, there was a powerfully isolating feeling to my thriftiness and decision to stay. I fully expected it to be another cold turkey sandwich and night alone, but that all changed when a co-worker invited me to dinner. He knew I’d be here, without plans, and suggested I tag along.

What really matters

In that moment of deep gratitude, the Louis Vuitton dreams subsided. Pictures of first-class comfort and VIP lines faded. Suddenly, I felt humbled by his generosity and honored to be included. I was truly thankful — without any need for material goods, money, or proof of my worth.

Wealth is a funny target. If I only wanted to make money, I should’ve chosen a different career. Instead, I was motivated to help others and temporarily delay earning potential. My path to occupational success likely won’t include boatloads of cash.

Undeniably, if I had enough money available, I would’ve flown to Colorado to see my family. And honestly, if I had the money, I would’ve loved the creature comforts of first class. Both of these decisions would get me spending more money and being less frugal.

But at the end of the break, it was clear and simple: I just wanted to enjoy the day with people who are kind and open-hearted. Wealth just didn’t matter. If I were rich, I would’nt have wanted anything more than to share that moment with those I care about.

I Visited The Mall Of America And Only Bought A Coffee

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Mall of America Consumption Junction
Photo: Cliff/flickr

About a month ago I decided to tag along with a good friend of mine to Minneapolis, Minnesota. Despite traveling through much of America, I’d never been to the land o’ lakes. It was time, and the price was right: free. My friend was going up there anyways and the passenger seat was empty.

I hemmed and hawed, thinking about my budget. In recent months I’ve become a bit mad about saving money. Heck, I’ve come undone by a mere $4 book that I avoided! But that militancy towards my budget has largely paid off. My savings has quickly ballooned.

Nonetheless, I couldn’t pass up this opportunity to join in the fun and meet some new people. The drive, about five hours from Iowa City, Iowa to Minneapolis, Minnesota, is through some of the more fertile land in America. This is truly where our food comes from. Always a suburb or city-boy at heart, I quickly displayed my naivete when I incorrectly labeled corn stalks as, “ahhh, look at that, they’re growing soybeans!” Yeah, I was out of my element.

When we finally closed in on the Minneapolis/St. Paul area, I was pumped to be in this new city. Whenever I’m out of my home cities, I feel a powerful urge to be both anxious and excited — all at once. That rush was endless, as around every corner there was something new and different about the Twin Cities. I loved it!

Along the way, my friend said, “Is there anything you want to do in particular? Is there anything you really want to see?” With a wistful, targetless attitude, I suggested that I was open to anything, but had no idea where to go next. That’s when he said, “How about we check out the Mall of America?”

Instantly, this rush of excitement filled me. Think about all of the numerous shops and stores and restaurants! The Mall of America was founded in 1992 and has about 7,900,000 square feet of space, which is spread out between a shocking number of floors and land. Walking into this place, it’s like an amusement park; in fact, there’s one built-in to the mall!

I soon turned to my friend and said the most obvious thing I could think of, “This place is just made for people to consume and buy more stuff.” Clouded and in shock, I decided to walk into a coffee shop and imbibe a small one. The two of us, propped onto some cushy couches and people watched.

There were women barely wearing anything — bursting out of their skintight clothing. There were families battling for the next choice in destination. There were young people and old.

Finally, we decided it was time to go. As we made our departure, a family asked nearby shoppers to take a picture of them. They had one child in their stroller, who was saddled with bags upon bags of new clothing. In the middle of taking another picture — curiously positioned in front of an elevator — the child fell backwards, as the weight of the bags outweighed the young one.

Mall of America Coffee ConsumptionI turned to my friend and couldn’t help laughing aloud. Here we were in consumption central, and someone had loaded this stroller so full of products that the child was no longer safe. Somehow it spoke to me. Why are we buying like this when we know that the environment is suffering and the total U.S. consumer debt stands at a whopping $11.4 trillion? The family, curiously, just propped the kid back up in the stroller and resumed the photos — bags still weighing down the stroller. They certainly put new meaning to the cliche, “Shop till you drop.”

Now, as Minneapolis develops a light rail system to and from the airport and city, those on an airport layover needn’t see the metropolis. Instead, you can just hop on the public transportation directly to the Mall and buy endlessly. You don’t even need to see the local culture!

Like surviving a crazy amusement ride, I feel like I need a t-shirt that says, “I went to the Mall of America and all I bought was a coffee.”

What’s Motivating Me To Save?

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Hamster Wheel
Photo: Dan Derrett/Flickr

Most days I live a chaste life. If they created a reality TV show of my life, it would be cancelled before the air date. Hell, the film crew would probably fall asleep in production. It’s a simple, hamster wheel existence that consists of getting up, making breakfast, reading for hours, working, and repeating that all the next day. The bummer is I want more than this.

Over the last few weeks of summer, as I’ve been on my constant rinse and repeat cycle, a growing desire to travel has crept up. More than travel, it’s a desire for more adventure. But then there’s my life and reality.

Being a 25-year-old doctoral student is a lesson in delayed gratification — working hard now to find enjoyable work and a reasonable paycheck later in life. Like many times before, on this frugal journey, I look at my budget. The numbers don’t add up. I can’t spend the money to travel to England, France, or visit Montreal. I just don’t have it, as I would need to take out student loans again to support the travel. That’s unacceptable to me. The psychological burden of student loans was too great and the interest rate of 6.8% is punitive.

I’m struggling to see the path and reason for my frugality. It’s here that I introspect, “What’s motivating me to save money and avoid more student loans?” There are both great opportunities and real challenges that create this defensive personal finance stance.

One of the biggest motivators is fear. Constant rises in income inequality, climate change, and a political environment that is skewed to the wealthiest are frightening me. If you’re not part of the bourgeois, you’ll likely be fighting, clawing, and begging your way out of lower income categories over the next few decades. Knowing that the foreseeable future will likely include environmental refugees (e.g., economists and researchers have increasingly theorized that the Syrian civil war was motivated by drought and the Pentagon has suggested that climate change may be a global threat) and massive changes in employment possibilities (I have no idea where or when I’ll be hired when I finally graduate), I’m eager to sock away some cash. Accurate or not, these are the challenges that drive me to save.

On the flip side, I’m motivated to save for a number of fun, experiential opportunities. I want to travel the world, develop a fluency in a foreign language (if I still have the brain power at that point in my life), give to the scholarship I started at Colorado State University, and develop a thriving practice as a counseling psychologist. These will all require a steady and safe savings. More importantly, they’re all worth the delayed gratification and relative banality of my life right now for more later on.

It’s with this yin-yang relationship — balanced — that I’m forgoing the travel now to live a better life later on. Until then, I’m diving into a good book and pretending to travel to faraway places and positions — loving every minute of the dream and working my butt off to make that happen.

Relationships And My Leaky Budget: Learning To Fix Myself And Save Money

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Single, lonely, and spending money

When I was younger, I felt lonely. We’re talking a crushing, oh-shit-the-world-is-empty type. I wouldn’t say I was a deep thinker, but my questions seemed more macro — larger than the everyday.

I use to draw a lot. My art was dark and moody. Often, I seemed to be expressing my disdain for life, and the sadness I felt inside.

I spent money like it was going out of style. I couldn’t resist buying a $1,000+ dollar road bike on a whim, even though I had barely showed any interest in cycling. Oh, and there was that gambling problem, too.

The cash in my wallet was merely an intermediary between work and stores — singlehandedly feeding the consumption our economy supposedly needed. I didn’t save money. It was meant to be spent. I was definitely dissatisfied with life. Another part was fearful of dying too soon. I spent so much money trying to avoid those feelings.

Looking back, I know I made huge spending mistakes. Only now can see how that affected me.

Coupled, insecure, and still spending money

Unfortunately, my spending didn’t resolve itself because I was suddenly in relationships. I thought that would fix everything. When partnered, I felt compelled to impress, treat, give, and spend. I wanted to be easygoing — I tried so hard to be — and spent like it was the end of days.

I couldn’t save money. I was spending whatever I had to make someone else happy. In the process, I only grew more unhappy and indebted to a bank; that affected my girlfriends, too.

Deeply insecure and and spending without pause, my budgets always crumbled. My desire for frugality was bashed in by insecurities and inner loneliness. I cannot tell you how many times I thought, “Am I worth it?” That question always hurt.

Put the oxygen on mask on yourself before helping others
Maybe it’s a trite cliché, but sometimes you have to put the mask on yourself before helping others.

Single and saving money

Back then, I was withering under the pressure. Something shifted in me. Nowadays, things are slightly different; not perfect, but better. I’m able to evaluate situations in fairness and calmly make the next steps for a longer-term future.

I’m single again. Rather than feel lonely, I notice a new security and happiness. I’m surrounded by friends and people I care deeply about, while working tirelessly to help others through my work (counseling).

Every now and then, hunger pains for spending stir in me. I sit before my laptop — a four-year-old Macbook Air — as it whirs away inefficiently and slower than it used to operate. I feel a pull to spend more than I currently have to buy a new laptop. I’ll wait.

I see a wonderful Patagonia shirt, which is accidentally being advertised to me through a YouTube personality. It makes my mind cue up a desire for one of my own. Before I buy that $70+ shirt, I remember what I’m trying to do, and resist the purchase. I’ll wait.

Staying present, focused on my goals

Unlike past years, when I felt isolated and alone, I’m (mostly) secure and hopeful. I’m excited with my days — blown away by the meaning I derive from both my play and work. Somehow the spending is more on my terms.

When I pull out my cash or cards, I know why I’m doing it. I’m not paying off demons inside my head or distracting myself through conspicuous consumption. No, I’m interested in being intentional, thoughtful, accountable to myself and others. When I have a healthy, balanced budget a remarkably simple consequence occurs: I feel positive, too.

That’s what I’m working on.

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