As someone who’s twenty and in college, I’m familiar with the ‘being cheap’ mentality. I totally understand it. I think I’m very fortunate, and at the end of the day I consider myself to be well-off, but I also don’t have a lot of money to throw around. This time around my summer job is being a babysitter to two children. I think I get paid pretty well as far as summer jobs go, but still I spent some time and effort looking for supplemental work. I picked up a second part-time babysitting job, and I started helping out at the indoor climbing gym I regularly go to.
I’m worried about how I’ll pay off my college loans, and I’m worried because every time I go to the grocery store to get something for my parents I think about how much I love grocery shopping, and how there are so many delicious foods that I want to eat and buy for myself when I’m older, and man, what if I can’t afford that? I’m worried because I never want to have to pass up a concert I really want to go to because of money, and I’m worried because I’d like to travel after I graduate. I’m worried because I’d really like to be able to afford an electronic drum set. I’m worried because I guess one day I might want a car, and I might have to pay my own cell phone bill, and man, what if I become too tied down with bills to fully realize all of my passions?
And so I want to be careful with my money, and at the same time, I don’t want to constantly operate under principles of fear and hoarding. You know? Are there purchases I should make now that I’m scared to, but that will ultimately provide me with more value than having that extra money in my bank account? For example, I’m just realizing now that I want to invest in my own pair of climbing shoes immediately, and I even wish I had done it sooner.
I’ve wanted to get my own climbing gear for a year now, but I’ve yet to make the jump (hehe). It’s been mostly for financial reasons. When I climb at home, I get rentals for free because I have a membership, and at school they’re free anyway. I’ve always explained to myself (and others), “It’s difficult for me to justify spending money on climbing shoes, because I can rent them for free at school, and because I’ve already spent a lot of money on my gym membership.” But really, I think I’m justifying the decision to hold out on buying them more than I am anything else.
Sometimes I feel like a hypocrite. At my core, I’m very idealistic and I believe there’s more value to be found in doing what you truly love than in having financial security. But then, when I imagine the security I have disintegrating, it’s like I go into survivor-mode, and everything I really believe is total crap as long as I’ll be able to eat this week. I login to my bank account and open up a calculator, and crunch how much money I’ll have in six months if I buy absolutely nothing. Sometimes I figure how much money I would have if I didn’t buy this and that, and I wonder if I’ve made mistakes and been too careless with my money. And then I feel so bad, because if I only wanna fight when it’s easy, then I can’t really care that much, can I? Ultimately I’m okay with having conflicting moods and thoughts, because I think that there’s more hypocrisy to be found in dismissing these conflicts as unacceptable than there is in admitting I have doubt sometimes, too. Without doubt, there is no choice.
The other night I stumbled upon David Cain’s blog, Raptitude, and was especially taken by the recent post “Your Lifestyle Has Already Been Designed.” I’ve been intending to write some of my thoughts about spending money, and this post spoke about reasons why we often make purchases we don’t really believe in: “to cheer ourselves up, to keep up with the Joneses, to fulfill our childhood vision of what our adulthood would be like, to broadcast our status to the world, and for a lot of other psychological reasons that have very little to do with how useful the product really is.” I boil all these reasons down to because we feel we should and not because at our cores, it’s something we want. Imagine how much happier so many people would be if they ceased living the life they feel they should want, and started living the life they actually desire.
Want vs. Need
“Only the man who does not need it, is fit to inherit wealth.” -Francisco D’Anconia from Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged
There are things we actually need to physically survive: food, shelter, and so on. And then there are things we’ve convinced ourselves we need to mentally survive. The difference between a purchase that helps you and one that hurts you is whether you’re honest with yourself about whether it’s something you need or something you want. If you can’t get through the morning without a mocha latte, you’re not helping yourself by continuing to make that purchase. But I think if you actively acknowledge that you’d have a happy, productive morning even without the latte, it can be a good thing to make that purchase—as long as you’re sure it will bring you joy. My next example is silly and laughable, but the application is sound. When I traveled to New York City to see Kevin Devine in June, I bought a Red Bull inside the venue. This cost me five dollars! It was totally overpriced, but I was happy to spend the money because it was something I wanted to do. Over-spending on an energy drink at a concert is about the most ridiculous I ever get. I don’t need to throw down five dollars for a drink every time I see a show to enjoy myself, and knowing that is what made the purchase worthwhile for me.
Every Purchase Should Be A Celebration
If you’re saving your money and hating it, then stop. And if you’re spending your money and hating it, then also stop. I believe that every purchase should be a celebration, and if it doesn’t feel like one, then you should hold off. This is something I’ve been working on and have yet to fully master. But when I am living this ideology, I can really feel it. For example, when I bought tickets for the Barenaked Ladies concert I recently attended, I was happy for that money to leave my account. When I went to see Kevin Devine this past June in Boston, I bought one of his t-shirts, and I was extremely happy to pay for it (it made it more fun that I bought the shirt directly from the man himself). The purchase felt good. I’ve fallen out of the trap of going out to eat too much, and of buying coffee every day, but when I do go out for these things, I feel really good about it. And I’m glad to hand over $3 for a coffee that’s made for me exactly to my specifications. I think it’s awesome that for $5-10, I can go out and get a cheap meal, and not worry much about preparation or clean-up. It doesn’t feel good to sleepily go to Dunkin’ Donuts every day and always be scrounging the car for another quarter, or to get pizza every weekend just because it feels socially acceptable. What does feel really good is conscious spending.
Spending should always feel really good. If you have money, you should feel good that you’ve done something that another person believed was worth whatever it was they paid you. You should feel good that you’ve earned something you can exchange for pretty much anything in this world. If you don’t feel good when you spend your money, you’re better off just hanging onto it. You’re losing value because whatever you’re buying obviously isn’t worth as much to you as having that extra money is. Every time you buy something, you should consider it a celebration of the work you have done to get there. Every purchase should be a celebration of gratitude toward the forces that make it so easy to exchange money for something else.
Beyond Breaking Even
When you make a purchase, at worst you should feel as if you are breaking even. What you’re getting is worth just as much to you as what you’re paying for it. Beyond that, I believe in a deeper kind of exchange. This goes beyond breaking even and getting what you believe your money is worth, and breaks into the realm of creating more value. There isn’t a constant amount of value in the world, and we must always be aware to ways we can create more value. We must always be living and telling stories (remember The Amber Spyglass by Philip Pullman); we must always be making conscious choices and adding value to the world.
When you make a purchase you really believe in, that really empowers you, not only are you breaking even and getting what you paid for, but you’re adding something good to the world that just wasn’t there before. And, if it’s a sound deal, so is the party you’re buying from. In the most moral kind of exchange, both parties feel that not only did they break even, but they each got the better deal. By using the term ‘the better deal,’ I’m not talking about getting something for yourself at the expense of another person. I’m talking about getting what is the better deal for you, about walking away happier with what you have than what you had. A sound, moral purchase happens when two parties come together because they each have something that the other will appreciate more deeply. Each consciously acknowledges what the other has, and they make that exchange happily.
I’ve heard people say, “I always feel bad spending money,” and I feel really sorry for them. Sometimes it’s difficult to control your impulses when it comes to money, but I think it’s easy to distinguish worthwhile purchases from shoddy ones, as long as you’re capable of being honest with yourself. When you’re about to buy something, think of how you’ll feel after the transaction is complete. Will you feel empowered, proud, and happy, or will you feel guilty and as if you’ve made a mistake that you wish you could hide? Ask yourself that question, and it will become easy to distinguish which purchases you should gravitate toward and which you should walk away from.
