Am I the only one who just noticed that it’s Wednesday? The holiday week with the free day is completely screwing me up.
Just to make this a relevant post:
Spend less!
Save more!
Invest!
Wee!
Don’t Be A Dick
Integrity is what you do when nobody is looking.
Do you cheat at solitaire, steal from an untended garage sale, or keep something a store forgets to charge you for? If so, integrity may not be your strongest trait.
Similarly, if you let the actions of others dictate your behavior, you may be integrity impaired.
If you get cut off in traffic, do suddenly feel justified in cutting off the next guy?
If you have a dollar stolen from your desk, does that make it okay to take a candy bar from the honor-system candy box?
If the last guy left the water cooler empty, are you going to refuse to refill it the next time you are the one to drink the last drop?
If you’re answering yes to these questions, it may be time to examine your moral code. Doing the right thing means doing the right thing all of the time. You can’t be an honorable person if you resort to dishonorable behavior whenever you dislike what someone else does, especially if your actions are hurting an entirely uninvolved 3rd party.
You know the proper behavior. You know what the ethical choice is. The fact that someone else made an unethical choice doesn’t give you a license to be a dick.
If it’s your turn to clean the community refrigerator, do it and do it well, even if the last guy did a poor job.
If the last mom driving the car pool showed up late, don’t deliberately forget her kid.
If someone forgot to pay at a group lunch and you covered it, that doesn’t mean you can skip out on the bill next time.
Even if everything else is taken from you, no one can ever steal your ethics, your integrity, or your honor. Those things are up to you to destroy, and they nearly impossible to replace.
In all cases, in all things, do the right thing. You won’t be sorry.
Resurrected from the archives.
Annual Fees: Scam or Service?
Annual fees. For a lot of people, this is the worst possible thing about a credit card. That’s understandable, since paying interest is voluntary. If you don’t want to pay it, you just need to pay off your balance within the grace period. Annual fees, on the other hand, get paid, whether you want to or not, if the are a part of your credit card.
When I was 18, I applied for a credit card that raised an undying hatred of Providian in my heart. I was dumb and didn’t read the agreement before applying. When I got the card, I read the paperwork and nearly made a mess of myself. It had a $200 activation fee, a $100 annual fee, a $500 limit, a 24% interest rate, no grace period, and a anthropomorphic contempt for all things financially responsible.
Yes, you read that right. The day you activate the card, you are 3/5 maxed and accruing interest at rates that would make a loan shark blush like my grandma is a strip club. Instead of activating, I cancelled the card and ran away crying. It was a mistake but didn’t cost me anything.
In exchange for all of that, I got…nothing. The card offered no services of any kind in exchange for the annual fee.
On the other hand, I have a card with an annual fee right now. It’s $59 per year, but it offers value in exchange.
This card’s basic offering is a 2% travel rewards plan. With most of our spending on this card, we’ve managed to accumulate $400 of rewards, so far, counting the 25,000 bonus miles for signing up.
In addition, it offers 24 hour travel and roadside assistance. The roadside assistance itself will pay for the fee, because I think I’ll be canceling my AAA account after 16 years. The card’s plan isn’t as nice, but I haven’t been using the AAA emergency services for the past few years, anyway.
It extends the warranty on anything I buy. It includes car rental insurance and concierge service. Concierge service is sweet. Need reservations for dinner? Call the card. Need a tub of nacho cheese? Call the card. Need a pizza? Well, call Zappos.com.
All in all, the card is paying for itself a couple of different ways, so in this case, the annual fee is definitely worth it. I guess there’s a serious difference between Capital One Venture and Providan Screwyou.
How do you feel about annual fees? Love ’em, hate ’em, have a card with one?
Funerals Cost Too Much
When my mother-in-law died, we weren’t prepared to pay for her funeral. We were three years into our debt repayment and were throwing every available cent at our last credit card. We had a couple of thousand dollars in savings, but that was earmarked for property taxes, braces, and a few other things that make money go away.
Then we found out we had a $1500 bill just to get her released and moved to the funeral home.
And catering for the funeral.
And programs.
And the grave, marker, and urn.
Scratch the last one. My mother-in-law prepaid for her grave site and had a funeral insurance policy to cover the marker, cremation, vault, and urn. She paid $800 and saved us nearly $1900 last spring.
By the end, we spent about $2500 for everything, including a reception at the funeral home.
I can’t describe how helpful that was. We couldn’t have covered it without debt, and the money we inherited was months away.
A little pre-planning on her part smoothed out the hardest time in our lives.
In 2009, the average cost for a funeral was $7,755. That’s a lot of cake for something that often catches you by surprise. In 2012, the average savings balance in the U.S. was $5,923.
Unexpected funeral expenses are a “wipe me out” expense. In a flash–a heart attack, a car accident–your life savings can get sucked into death expenses, leaving your family with nothing.
That reminds me, it’s time to buy a pair of grave plots.
FINCON13 After Action Report
I spent most of last week at the Financial Blogger Conference, or FINCON.
First, since this is a personal finance blog, here is what it cost:
Hotel: $695.75 – I paid $119 per night, plus taxes and fees. The travel rewards on my credit card will be making this go away.
Airfare: $211.80 – I bought early and live next to a Delta hub airport. This will also be getting erased by my credit card rewards.
Ticket: $175.84 – I got a $25 discount for being a repeat attendee and I paid an extra $99 for the Bootcamp extension, which was 2 extra days that–alone–made the whole trip worthwhile.
Food: $203.53 – This includes a $90 splurge meal at Ruth’s Chris, which I was looking forward to for months before the conference.
Other – $113 – I brought $183 in cash with me. This was used for some meals not included above, cab fare, and tips for bartenders, housekeeping, and the concierge. I always tip a bartender, even if it’s an open bar. It guarantees fast service and full-strength drinks all night.
Total cost: $1399.92
Total after credit card reimbursement: $492.37
Now for the important part: Was it worth it?
Yes.
The Bootcamp was a fantastic time to meet–and actually get to know–other bloggers. There were only 50 of us, instead of 500 at the main event, so we were able to break into small groups and brainstorm useful projects and activities. I learned more about podcasting than I ever had before and I got a chance to share some of what I know about SEO and managing virtual assistants. In the larger sessions, questions are rushed and people are shy.
I got to beat up on my comfort zones.
I presented some awards with Crystal at the Plutus Awards ceremony, which means cracking jokes about Canadians in front of 500 people who don’t know me. I regularly stand and teach 30-50 people, but that’s always a warm crowd on a topic I know extremely well. This was new for me.
I sang anatomically explicit songs to strangers during the Bootcamp karaoke night. Selections were from Monty Python, DaVinci’s Notebook, and Denis Leary.
I was on a panel, by surprise. I was asked to be available if I were needed for questions, then got dragged to the front of the room for the entire session. I would do that again.
That’s 3 things that were all well outside of my comfort zone, but I’m happy I did them. I don’t believe in not doing something simply because I’m afraid to do it.
Random gatherings are fun.
From people stopping by our staked-out territory in the lobby, to a surprise game of Cards Against Humanity in the lobby bar with Joe and Len to having a discussion about the meaning of “No” when you’ve got a pre-determined safeword, it was a good week.
The last 5 days were easily the most extroverted days I’ve ever had. Since I didn’t force myself into any large groups for long periods of time, I never felt drained like I often do in similar situations. It’s good to find a balance that let’s me meet and connect with other without exhausting myself. I am seriously an off-the-charts introvert, even if I’m not even a little bit shy.
FINCON was totally worth it. I was excited to go, and I’m excited to start acting on what I’ve learned, including being a part of a new mastermind group, with the awesomest lounge lizards in the PF world.
Giving Up The Magic
It’s a sad day when kids stop believing in Santa Clause, the Tooth Fairy, and fairies.
Not because I enjoy lying to my kids, but because–on the day they stop believing–a piece of their innocence is lost. An unforgettable, valuable part of childhood dies.
Believing in magic is a beautiful thing.
Do you remember the last time you looked around the world with a sense of wonder? When seeing a puppy form in the clouds was a miracle? When the idea of an ant carrying 1000 times its own weight was something worth watching? When the impossible goodness of a fat man squeezing down your chimney fills you with hope instead of making you call 911?
Do I believe in Santa?
Of course not, but I believe the concept of Santa is worthy of my children’s belief. I don’t want them to lose that innocence and wonder.
When my teenager was young, he asked if Santa was real. I responded by asking what he thought. When he told me he didn’t believe, I offered to let Santa know. His panic told me he wasn’t ready to give up the magic.
The day that conversation didn’t cause a panic, he looked hurt, like he’d lost something precious. He had.
His world of magic was gone.
The he asked why I had spent his lifetime lying to him. I told him the truth. I said I couldn’t bear to be the one to shatter his belief in magic before he was ready.
Then, I informed him that he was in on the conspiracy. He was not allowed to ruin it for anyone else. Not his sisters, not his friends.
That Christmas, my little boy helped me stuff stockings, which was an odd feeling.
The magic was over, but we still got to share the magic of his cousins and sisters.
