The Best of the Cheapskate Monthly: Simple Tips for Living Lean - Softcover

Hunt, Mary

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0312950934 ISBN 13: 9780312950934

Verlag: St Martin's Press, 1993

Inhaltsangabe

A self-avowed reformed spendthrift advises readers on saving money in the 1990s, offering her own tricks and techniques for penny pinching in a work that includes first-person accounts, recipes, formulas, recycling tips, and more. Original.

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The Best of the Cheapskate Monthly

CHAPTER 1

From Credit Card Junkie to Cheapskate

My Story

I used to be anything but a cheapskate. I would break into a cold sweat at even the thought of being considered cheap. And I was driven to making absolutely sure that a very clear line of demarcation was drawn between my world and those pitiful souls residing in the land of Cheap. I could outspend anyone and I charged my way through life feeling quite entitled because I had every charge card known to the English-speaking world.

It all started quite innocently with a promise. As a child, I was a daydreamer, a future-planner. I grew up embarrassed that I had to wear hand-me-down clothes and things purchased at the secondhand store. I, the Scarlett O'Hara of the fifties, vowed that I would never be poor and that my children would never wear clothes from the thrift shop. There! Just like waving a magic wand, I guaranteed my adult status and that of my children. If only I had beenwise enough to make a similar vow regarding a way to pull it off.

Within days of my wedding, I cautiously suggested to my new husband that perhaps we should look into getting a gasoline credit card. After all, we were now in a different social stratum and every real family must be prepared for unforeseen emergencies. We needed to get with the program and stop depending on cash so much. We needed plastic! Harold went along with the idea and before I knew it we received two shiny new credit cards, one bearing my name. Wow! "Free" gas whenever I wanted! No longer would I have to dig around for loose change in order to pump a few gallons into my car. I could fill up whenever the mood struck and I knew that never again would I have to be concerned with mundane issues like the price of gas. I had clout and it felt good. Being a married woman was quite prestigious.

It seemed only logical that we should have an alternative brand of gas available (just in case of emergencies) and so we went for a second set of cards. After all, if one is good, two should be better. These came more quickly and with less effort than the first. I could feel our status soaring to new heights and I carried the proper credentials to prove it.

By the time the babies came along, the first credit cards had been canceled by the gasoline company. We had been late with our payments quite a few times and had even missed some along the way. Now who would've thought a big company with all thatmoney would demand that we pay them back ... in full ... every month? Not to worry, though. In addition to a nice assortment of gasoline cards I had added every department store card in southern California.

It was so easy. If a particular store didn't automatically send me a preapproved set of cards in the mail, all I had to do was pick up an application in the store. It became a game not unlike collecting baseball cards. I was compelled to acquire every charge card available. You must understand that I never applied for the cards because of any specific purchasing plan, but rather for the security I thought they would bring to our lives. I rationalized that we needed them in case of emergency. Little did I know that the very things I believed would provide security were to become a catalyst for crisis.

Harold was soon promoted to middle management with a large, prestigious California bank. I could not have been prouder! One of the items in his benefit package was a totally unsolicited handy new device--a bank card with a very nice line of credit. Now, not only was I "entitled" to all the gas I could use, the department store cards and the bank card prepared me for any kind of unforeseen need. And unlike the gasoline companies, the others didn't require full payment. These companies were quite pleased to allow a small monthly payment; in fact they all but pronounced a blessing over me every time I used them.

Soon I found my life filled with many little emergencies.Often these emergencies were manufactured from my poring over department store ad magazines which would show up in the mail. My overactive mind and impulsive tendencies would join forces to convince me of an urgent need. I would become privately fixated on a certain item and be unable to relax until I found a way to get it. I felt a certain, albeit temporary, high when I bought the latest in kids' clothing or GI Joe "men" for my boys. I felt greatly justified in spending huge sums in fabric stores. I would buy everything needed for project after project, the justification being that I could make all kinds of clothes and decorator items for much less than ready-made. In reality, very few of the projects ever materialized and the goods became obsolete, eventual donations to the less fortunate.

And the best part was the more I used those cards and continued paying the minor monthly minimums, the better standing and status I had. Why else would they keep increasing my limits? When the bank card limit reached the four-figure mark I just knew they thought I was fantastic. And I was certainly keeping my promise. I was not poor and my kids did not wear. clothes from the thrift store. We showed real well!

Shopping became easier in the seclusion and comfort of my home. With a phone in one hand and a mail-order catalog in the other I was able to create Christmas for myself and my children any time I had a whim. I realize now that I was attemptingto go back and fix my own childhood by giving my children all the clothes, toys and attention I missed. I was trying to fill a void by giving gifts which were bigger and better than the recipient could believe. I was making up for what I lacked, fulfilling my vow that my kids and I would never be poor and that I would always have the approval and acceptance of my friends--even if I had to buy it. I lived out the only agenda I knew: External appearances are all that is important. Anything going on inside that conflicts with a perfect facade must be ignored, denied and put aside.

My instruments of entitlement were not limited only to credit cards. I had a checkbook. While I considered credit card spending to be long-term deferment (like hundreds of years from now), writing checks was short-term deferment. Often I would neglect to record checks I wrote. It was safer that way because Harold couldn't track my spending. His unobservant temperament became my ally. I could all but redecorate the entire house and he wouldn't notice.

I worked under the philosophy that somehow by the time the check was ready to clear I would magically come up with funds which I could sneak into the bank. Of course it never happened, but still I would write checks, often with reckless abandon. One of two things happened over and over again. Either I would overdraw the account or bring the balance down so low that when Harold went to paybills there was no longer enough to get us through the month.

Writing rubber checks is bad enough, but to add to the mess, Harold was the bank manager! Let me assure you that this kind of behavior from employees is not looked upon kindly by your average financial institution. Imagine his embarrassment and rage when one of his staff would have to sheepishly advise him of the situation and suggest that he make an immediate deposit. The phone calls I would receive during one of those incidents are not among my most pleasant memories. And you think your blood runs cold when the bank calls!

More than once Harold's job was in jeopardy, and still I couldn't stop my outrageous behavior. I was not making enormous purchases--we're not talking new cars or even new furniture. I was five-and-ten-dollaring us to death.

Inwardly I felt frail, weak and insignificant. The act of spending gave me momentary sensations of power and strength. I would temporarily...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: St Martin's Press
• Erscheinungsdatum: 1993
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0312950934
• ISBN 13: 9780312950934
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 212
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar