There comes a time when it’s too late to tell people how you feel.
There will come a day when the person you mean to talk to won’t be there. Don’t wait for that day.
“There’s always tomorrow” isn’t always true.
The no-pants guide to spending, saving, and thriving in the real world.
This was a guest post I wrote last year to answer the question posed by the Yakezie blog swap, “Name a time you splurged and were glad you did.”
There are so many things that I’ve wanted to spend my money on, and quite a few that I have. Just this week, we went a little nuts when we found out that the owner of the game store near us was retiring and had his entire stock 40% off. Another time, we splurged long-term and bought smartphones, more than doubling our monthly cell phone bill.
This isn’t about those extravagances. This is about a time I splurged and was glad I did. Sure, I enjoy using my cell phone and I will definitely get a lot of use out of our new games, but they aren’t enough to make me really happy.
The splurge that makes me happiest is the vacation we took last year.
Vacations are clearly a luxury. Nonessential. Unnecessary. A splurge.
When we were just a year into our debt repayment, we realized that, not only is debt burnout a problem, but our kids’ childhoods weren’t conveniently pausing themselves while we cut every possible extra expense to get out of debt. No matter how we begged, they insisted on continuing to grow.
Nothing we will do will ever bring back their childhoods once they grow up or—more importantly—their childhood memories. They’ll only be children for eighteen years. That sounds like a long time, but that time flies by so quickly.
We decided it was necessary to reduce our debt repayment and start saving for family vacations.
Last summer, we spent a week in a city a few hours away. This was a week with no internet access, no playdates, no work, and no chores. We hit a number of museums, which went surprisingly well for our small children. Our kids got to climb high over a waterfall and hike miles through the forest. We spent time every day teaching them to swim and play games. Six months later, my two year old still talks about the scenic train ride and my eleven year old still plays poker with us.
We spent a week together, with no distractions and nothing to do but enjoy each other’s company. And we did. The week cost us several extra months of remaining in debt, but it was worth every cent. Memories like we made can’t be bought or faked and can, in fact, be treasured forever.
Last weekend, we held a garage sale at my mother-in-law’s house. It was technically an estate sale, but we treated it exactly as a garage sale.
A week before we started, a friend’s mother came to buy all of the blankets and most of the dishes, pots, and non-sharp utensils so she could donate them all to a shelter she works with. She took at least 3 dozen comforters and blankets away.
Even after that truckload, we started with two double rows of tables through the living room and dining room. The tops of the tables were as absolutely full as we could get them, and the floor under the tables was also used for displaying merchandise.
Have you ever had to display 75 brand-new pairs of shoes in a minimal about of space? They claimed about 16 feet of under-table space all by themselves. Thankfully, the blankets weren’t there anymore.
We also had half of the driveway full of furniture, toys, and tools.
We had a lot of stuff.
Now, most people hold a sale to make some money. Not us. We held a sale to let other people pay us for the privilege of hauling away our crap. As such, it was all priced to move. The most expensive thing we sold was about $20, but I can’t remember what that was. Most things went for somewhere between 25 cents and $1.
At those prices, we sold at least 2000 items. That isn’t a typo. We ended the day with $1325. After taking out the initial seed cash, lunches we bought for the people helping us, and dinner we bought one night, we had a profit of $975.
At 25 cents per item.
We optimized to sell instead of optimizing for profit. At the end of a long summer of cleaning out a hoarding house, it all needed to go.
In the next part, I’ll explain exactly how we made it work.
This week, we upgraded our cable TV package. We were on their most basic 15-channel plan, now we’re on Digital Economy, giving my wife the extra channels she’s been suffering without for the last few years.
Our Tivo died last week. I love my Tivo, and we saw its death coming, so we ordered a replacement. We accidentally ordered the wrong one. We got the one that can’t take a signal straight off of the cable. It needs a cablecard.
Crap.
We could send it back and miss out on the Tivo for another week, or we could upgrade our cable package.
Hmm….
We looked at Comcast’s site to see what was available. Boost Plus–a internet + TV package–was available for $69.99/month for a year. That’s $6 more than we were paying, for about 30 more channels and it came with 2 years of free HBO. Yay!
Call Comcast.
The rep couldn’t find the offer, but there’s another one for $79.99 with no HBO, would we like that?
No, and we need to call the online offer number, since you can’t just transfer me. WTF?
So I ordered from the website directly, because I was getting sick of people already. I love e-commerce, just for that reason.
The last step of the process? A 30 minute online chat with a rep to schedule a tech. Grr.
After “Hello”, the first thing the rep said was, “Based on our conversation, the best thing to suit your needs is…” A freaking upsell to open the conversation. Buddy, you don’t know my needs. You’re here to run a calendar. I hate people.
No, I don’t want Triple Play. Your phone service isn’t cheaper than I’m paying now.
No, I don’t want a zillion channels. I have Netflix and a Roku.
No, I will not pay modem rental. I bought my own for $50 instead of paying you $7/month for it.
No, I don’t want equipment protection. The box will be on my dresser, out of reach. If it breaks on its own, I’ll return it.
Yes, I do want the deal to last the entire year–per the ad–instead of the 6 months you’re trying to change it to.
Great! Now my choices are a) pay $10 to have the new cable box shipped, b) pay $30 for a tech to come over and plug in 2 cables, c) drive to the cable office and pick up the box. I’ll take the 15 minute drive and combine it with lunch with my wife, thanks. I have to go there for the cablecard, anyway, since that’s not something you ship.
Wait a second! Going to the store means we’re going to cancel everything we’ve just done? And the store doesn’t have access to this deal, either? Nevermind, I’ll take the shipping charges.
WTF?
So, it’s off to the store to get my card, but not the box that will ship from that store. After a 30 minute wait, the wonderful(no sarcasm) lady behind the counter was happy to give me a card. Unfortunately, the rep from the previous night had entered the wrong deal, with a note on the account mentioning the correct one. Because that’s how computers and automated billing systems work. His plan left an error on the account that prevented anything new from being added, like my cablecard.
Grr.
Double guh-errr.
Let’s cancel everything from the previous night. There’s a better deal.
We got the same package for $49.99/month for a year, then $69.99/month for another year, with HBO for $5/month. I got to leave with my card and my box. Wee! I love you, lady!
Comcast, seriously, WTF?
Now, if I could just get Tivo to recognize the channel lineup for Digital Economy.