Dr. Phil McGraw once said, "You can't solve a money problem by throwing money at it." We've all heard stories about how lottery winners lose everything they won, sometimes even ending up worse off than when they started. In terms of the Law of Attraction, it is viewed as having been able to attract the money, but having too many limiting beliefs that need to be cleared to keep it. The principle doesn't refer only to money, but health, relationships, all of the aspects of your life.
I believe it, but you can't prove it by me. Some things in life I can keep very well, others not so much. What I can say is, by adopting this way of living, things aren't so personal. The bad things don't hurt as much. I think of us all as blank slates, like department store mannequins. Everything else is just the remnants of our choices while visiting this planet for this excellent vacation we call our lives. It's like a tour guide told me, many many years ago on a bus trip in Ireland. He found me drifting to sleep and reminded me of all the beautiful scenery outside my window. When I smiled and said the current scenery wasn't all that different from my own in Northern California, he smiled and said, "Well, it's your holiday, spend it how you want to." It was one of the first moments in my life where I was presented the notion of having choices, but not judged by which one I made.
I hope you are enjoying your life's vacation immensely. If you aren't, consider the words of Led Zeppelin in Stairway to Heaven, "There's always time to change the road you're on."
Now let's talk about money. Or more specifically, life insurance.
I've been watching a lot of home shows lately. During one where a couple paid money to have their home remodeled, the wife complained about cracked clay pipes which had to be replaced. Before that they had had to pay for asbestos in the homes floors to be remediated. Basically she said, "Again we have to pay for something we can't see?"
We pay for insurance to protect ourselves and our loved ones from things that may happen that we can't see or foresee. People don't like to pay for things they can't see, so we live in a world where we have laws forcing us to pay for many of the things which might impact other people.
I heard a joke once, I can't remember whose it was, so I can't credit the comedian. The gist was that suicide is illegal. "In less enlightened times, they would hang you for it."
If we have a mortgage on our house, we have to have house insurance to protect the lender. If we drive a car, we have to have insurance to protect the other people in an accident and, once again, potentially the lender. We don't have any laws forcing us to protect ourselves. Well, potentially except Obamacare, but that is a subject for another day. Today we are talking life insurance, not healthcare.
Although in a sensible world, that's what life insurance would be, wouldn't it? Insurance to protect your life. Instead, life insurance protects others in case you are unexpectedly removed from the equation. Life insurance protectors your survivors. In some cases it simply removes the burden of them having to put the funds together with which to bury or cremate you. In others it may provide a nest egg for family who depended on your income. Does that mean you should have life insurance? It depends on your own moral compass. In theory, if you have people who depend on you and your income, you should have at least some sort of nest egg, savings or life insurance that will make the transitionary time easier. If it is simply to cover your cremation or burial and they will inherit enough savings from you to do that, they'll be able to access that money faster than the insurance money anyway.
I've always felt a bit bewildered by advertisements on television which try to shame people into buying life insurance for their babies. No insurance could possibly protect you from such a loss. It could cover the costs of the funeral, of course, and young couples who have just had babies might not have the savings to cover them otherwise. Keeping in mind a 529 (or college savings plan) or a life insurance policy would both cost some sort of monthly fee, I think the former might be the more optimistic, "Law of Attraction" positive plan. In either case, I would make sure I could use the 529 for funeral expenses AND the life insurance for education. The financial vehicle which could do both would be where I placed the money I have earmarked for my child's future. At the same time, beware any insurance that claims to be good for retirement. 401k's and IRA's are usually better vehicles for that. I suppose it is prudent for me to mention in case you might be as naive about the matter as I was. Funeral costs can be somewhere around $10,000 today. Even cremation, which once seemed to be only hundreds of dollars, has begun to touch the thousand dollar mark. At some point in your life, someone will die and you will be faced with the details and the expenses.
Have you ever considered what the insurance company does with your money? Whatever monies aren't needed for day to day expenses or reserves for paying benefits, are invested. The government monitors insurance companies investments to make sure their investments are low risk and they will be able to pay their claims. Because they invest in low risk items like government bonds, insurance companies do not have years where they lose money on their investments. Insurers also have portfolios that allow for quick liquidation of investments to pay claims.
In a perfect world, we would take our own money, invest it and have money for anything we needed from the costs of dying to the costs of living. In our world, it is estimated as many as 80% of life insurance polices are allowed to lapse before a payout is due. People buy more coverage than they can afford. Life circumstances change. An elderly person's life insurance can lapse, be discontinued and they can find themselves no longer eligible for the terms the dead policy had. One thing to keep in mind, if you are in danger of letting your life insurance lapse, consider selling it on the secondary market. In other words, there are companies who will buy your insurance policy for more than what a cash surrender of the policy would give you. Particularly in the case of caring for an elderly parent, I have read where selling a policy on the secondary market has given caregiving children funds to help pay hospital expenses. One important thing to consider and research before taking any action: a policy sold on the secondary market will still be counted as open insurance held in that person's name. That could impact the possibilities of purchasing any additional insurance. If you are looking to invest some of your money, "Life Settlements," (aka that secondary market) might be a good place to try. The minimum investment is generally $20,000 and you can apparently choose which policies you want to purchase based on payout and time frame. At first it seems a very gruesome way to make money, but keeping in mind the benefits the seller may have needed might convince you it was actually one of the kindest investments you could make.
Showing posts with label finances. Show all posts
Showing posts with label finances. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
My Intentions
It is well known that Americans don't have enough savings, particularly for retirement. They also carry a lot of debt. It is so well known, I don't need to bother looking up any statistics to prove it to you. It is common knowledge.
My intent is to help the 99% repair their relationship with money and turn their lives around. It is a daunting task that has three elements I fear I may not be able to overcome.
The first, why listen to me? I graduated from UC Davis with a BA in English, back when a BA seemed to mean enough every educated person didn't feel compelled to continue on for an MA or PhD. My dream was to be a writer and I have spent decades working in retail and playing at writing and photography. At the same time, valuing my free time and freedom itself, I have worked part time, three half days a week, for nearly two decades. Although my income lands me solidly among the 99%, the rest of my statistics are a little different. I don't carry debt. I have accumulated savings, including retirement savings. I have paid off my mortgage and own my house free and clear.
At least all of that was true when I began this project. Since then, I have been trying to sell my deceased parents home. Between paying to have a bridge repaired and having dumpsters delivered in order to ready the property for sale, my savings have been whittled down significantly. Even as it undermines my own confidence that I can do what I already did and teach others to do the same, it also underscores the necessity.
Money is a tool. That's all it is. Money is a tool by which you can buy education, comfort, and freedom. They say money can't buy happiness, but it can buy things which will bring a smile to a loved one's face. It can buy experiences a person will remember for the rest of his life. Money is nothing but a tool, but it isn't one like a hammer or a saw. It is more like putty or sand. You can find yourself running out and wishing you had more.
Second, a huge percentage of my financial strategy involves the Law of Attraction. Every time I open my mouth and try to explain its principles to somebody, I see that look on her face. The one that suggests I just told her that fairies are real and I was haunted last night by a banshee.
There was a joke on Saturday Night Live years ago about learning to be an art critic. After learning the fundamentals and beginning to critique a gallery's art, the student turned on patrons around her and criticized their outfits, their postures, their smiles. Looking for the negative and pointing it out comes as naturally to humans as breathing. When we've actually been given permission and free reign to do so? We become relentless bullies, nearly unstoppable.
The Law of Attraction is the belief that "like attracts like." We create our world with our thoughts.
I once read about a social experiment. A researcher gathered a group of people together and had them look at two straight lines drawn on a chalkboard. The two lines were exactly the same length, but the researcher had placed one individual in the crowd who claimed one of the lines were longer. It turns out, I can give you advice and tell you what you should do and you probably won't follow it, but one person placed in a crowd, confidently repeating a lie, can cause you to agree with him and doubt your own eyesight.
Every day we are surrounded with a negative onslaught of news supporting the notion of a world of scarcity. If abundance is mentioned, it is still framed as there being enough for everyone's needs, but not their greed. Many of us buy things we don't really want or need, frantically stuffing ourselves to feel happy, while feeling judged for our attempts.
I ask you, who hasn't purchased some stupid, silly item, perhaps for as little as ten dollars, that seemed so great at the time, but we are later ashamed to admit?
How can I ever convince drowning victims, under water for the second time, flailing about with no idea who will save them, that they can save themselves simply by changing their thoughts?
At this point in my life, it feels like I have been every type of emotionally damaged and unhappy there is to be. I can remember the days when my mouth would involuntarily scowl if I so much as saw a poster proclaiming "Love is a warm puppy." It's as if negativity isn't happy just existing. It has to roll around in the muck continually reaffirming its ugly existence.
"Ugh! This smells really bad. Here smell it."
"Ugh! That really stinks."
I have been dedicated to changing the way I think for decades. It still took me years to realize that love? It IS a warm puppy. Sort of. Or at least the sustained joyful warm feelings about life and its wonderful possibilities that you might feel when enjoying the company of a baby of almost any species.
Third, we are all unreliable narrators. In writing, an unreliable narrator is someone who tells a story, but who has a warped view and perception of everything. We each have our personal story and we tend to believe the details we tell ourselves. Yet we experience our lives through the distorted window of only seeing through our own point of view.
Think about that room with the chalkboard and two lines. Even though they end up united in an answer as to the length of the lines, if you ask them about the experience afterwards, they will all have a different story to tell. Some will have a simple recitation of facts. Others will have anecdotal details which may not appear to be connected to the event, or at least not to anyone other than the person whose viewpoint felt they were important. Unless the researchers are included, probably not one story will include the information one person was asked to lie.
At the same time, we continually second guess ourselves. We say we want to lose weight and doubt we have the will power. We ask the universe for some money. Buy a lottery ticket and say "I knew that was a waste of money" as we throw our losing ticket into the trash.
I recently had a bad break up. I loved that man so much. My heart felt as if it had shattered into a million pieces knowing it had ended. I cried and cried and cried. One day, posting happy little kittens to cheer myself up on Facebook, I noticed how many friends I had who were talking and interacting with me. My heart flooded with love and appreciation. It was then that I realized how close I had come to seeing only what I had lost when all I had to do was turn my head and see all of the good things and people who are still right here with me.
Really that is everything I am trying to get you to do. I am trying to get you to stop focusing on your losses and failures and to look and really see life's wonders. I want you to appreciate all of your good fortune and know it didn't happen by accident. You're not an ungrateful sinner who deserves only God's tolerance and indulgence. You aren't a bad boy who is too lazy or lacks willpower. Each and every one of us is no less a miracle than a blade of grass growing despite humans blocking its path with asphalt. Each and every one of us is as important and essential as every atom that makes up a molecule.
C'mon. (Metaphorically) take my hand and we can do this thing. Just do one thing for me first.
Turn your head.
My intent is to help the 99% repair their relationship with money and turn their lives around. It is a daunting task that has three elements I fear I may not be able to overcome.
The first, why listen to me? I graduated from UC Davis with a BA in English, back when a BA seemed to mean enough every educated person didn't feel compelled to continue on for an MA or PhD. My dream was to be a writer and I have spent decades working in retail and playing at writing and photography. At the same time, valuing my free time and freedom itself, I have worked part time, three half days a week, for nearly two decades. Although my income lands me solidly among the 99%, the rest of my statistics are a little different. I don't carry debt. I have accumulated savings, including retirement savings. I have paid off my mortgage and own my house free and clear.
At least all of that was true when I began this project. Since then, I have been trying to sell my deceased parents home. Between paying to have a bridge repaired and having dumpsters delivered in order to ready the property for sale, my savings have been whittled down significantly. Even as it undermines my own confidence that I can do what I already did and teach others to do the same, it also underscores the necessity.
Money is a tool. That's all it is. Money is a tool by which you can buy education, comfort, and freedom. They say money can't buy happiness, but it can buy things which will bring a smile to a loved one's face. It can buy experiences a person will remember for the rest of his life. Money is nothing but a tool, but it isn't one like a hammer or a saw. It is more like putty or sand. You can find yourself running out and wishing you had more.
Second, a huge percentage of my financial strategy involves the Law of Attraction. Every time I open my mouth and try to explain its principles to somebody, I see that look on her face. The one that suggests I just told her that fairies are real and I was haunted last night by a banshee.
There was a joke on Saturday Night Live years ago about learning to be an art critic. After learning the fundamentals and beginning to critique a gallery's art, the student turned on patrons around her and criticized their outfits, their postures, their smiles. Looking for the negative and pointing it out comes as naturally to humans as breathing. When we've actually been given permission and free reign to do so? We become relentless bullies, nearly unstoppable.
The Law of Attraction is the belief that "like attracts like." We create our world with our thoughts.
I once read about a social experiment. A researcher gathered a group of people together and had them look at two straight lines drawn on a chalkboard. The two lines were exactly the same length, but the researcher had placed one individual in the crowd who claimed one of the lines were longer. It turns out, I can give you advice and tell you what you should do and you probably won't follow it, but one person placed in a crowd, confidently repeating a lie, can cause you to agree with him and doubt your own eyesight.
Every day we are surrounded with a negative onslaught of news supporting the notion of a world of scarcity. If abundance is mentioned, it is still framed as there being enough for everyone's needs, but not their greed. Many of us buy things we don't really want or need, frantically stuffing ourselves to feel happy, while feeling judged for our attempts.
I ask you, who hasn't purchased some stupid, silly item, perhaps for as little as ten dollars, that seemed so great at the time, but we are later ashamed to admit?
How can I ever convince drowning victims, under water for the second time, flailing about with no idea who will save them, that they can save themselves simply by changing their thoughts?
At this point in my life, it feels like I have been every type of emotionally damaged and unhappy there is to be. I can remember the days when my mouth would involuntarily scowl if I so much as saw a poster proclaiming "Love is a warm puppy." It's as if negativity isn't happy just existing. It has to roll around in the muck continually reaffirming its ugly existence.
"Ugh! This smells really bad. Here smell it."
"Ugh! That really stinks."
I have been dedicated to changing the way I think for decades. It still took me years to realize that love? It IS a warm puppy. Sort of. Or at least the sustained joyful warm feelings about life and its wonderful possibilities that you might feel when enjoying the company of a baby of almost any species.
Third, we are all unreliable narrators. In writing, an unreliable narrator is someone who tells a story, but who has a warped view and perception of everything. We each have our personal story and we tend to believe the details we tell ourselves. Yet we experience our lives through the distorted window of only seeing through our own point of view.
Think about that room with the chalkboard and two lines. Even though they end up united in an answer as to the length of the lines, if you ask them about the experience afterwards, they will all have a different story to tell. Some will have a simple recitation of facts. Others will have anecdotal details which may not appear to be connected to the event, or at least not to anyone other than the person whose viewpoint felt they were important. Unless the researchers are included, probably not one story will include the information one person was asked to lie.
At the same time, we continually second guess ourselves. We say we want to lose weight and doubt we have the will power. We ask the universe for some money. Buy a lottery ticket and say "I knew that was a waste of money" as we throw our losing ticket into the trash.
I recently had a bad break up. I loved that man so much. My heart felt as if it had shattered into a million pieces knowing it had ended. I cried and cried and cried. One day, posting happy little kittens to cheer myself up on Facebook, I noticed how many friends I had who were talking and interacting with me. My heart flooded with love and appreciation. It was then that I realized how close I had come to seeing only what I had lost when all I had to do was turn my head and see all of the good things and people who are still right here with me.
Really that is everything I am trying to get you to do. I am trying to get you to stop focusing on your losses and failures and to look and really see life's wonders. I want you to appreciate all of your good fortune and know it didn't happen by accident. You're not an ungrateful sinner who deserves only God's tolerance and indulgence. You aren't a bad boy who is too lazy or lacks willpower. Each and every one of us is no less a miracle than a blade of grass growing despite humans blocking its path with asphalt. Each and every one of us is as important and essential as every atom that makes up a molecule.
C'mon. (Metaphorically) take my hand and we can do this thing. Just do one thing for me first.
Turn your head.
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Why I Never Learned to Cook (and why it is important)
It isn't right to judge people, even the judgmental. It is something I struggle with daily, most recently when I saw this article:
This Onion Article Perfectly Illustrates Why No One Should Judge A Person On Food Stamps
While I agree we shouldn't judge a person on food stamps, for me, the article missed a huge part of the point. The article focuses on the statistic that a growing number of America's armed service members are on food stamps, as well as many other households who have at least one person who is gainfully employed. It is the typical American stance, if I have to do something, you have to do it. If I have to be tested for drugs at my place of employment, you should be tested to get financial assistance. If I have to work, you have to work, and if you're not working, you deserve nothing. I could write and yell and whisper until I fell into my grave that this IS NOT empathy, except for oneself. It seems to plainly come from a place of resentment.
In this article, however, the point that slapped me across the face was the woman, Carol Gaither, who judged what food stamp recipients were purchasing. I've long heard concerns about them buying alcohol or cigarettes, but she resented them buying "Frosted Flakes" or other brand name goods, as well as, "high priced TV dinners." "She also notes that two whole chickens and a bag of potatoes could inexpensively feed her family for a week."
Well goody for you Carol Gaither.
Let me tell you a little about myself. I am an only child. I grew up in a middle class home. I have no debt and have never been a food stamp recipient. But if I was one, you would be standing behind me in line, judging me.
Even on Thanksgiving, the vegetables on my mother's table came from a can. No, they were not mixed into some sort of tasty casserole. They were dumped out of the can, heated on the stove or in the microwave, and placed on my plate next to dry turkey and faux potatoes. Yes, "Potato Buds." Every Friday we had "Swansons."
Would it surprise you to know there are people who have never had real potatoes? Or people working full time who have never cooked a chicken? Who would stare at a raw one like a deer in headlights having no idea what to do or even where to begin?
It was only after my mother's death and teaching myself to cook via the services of Blue Apron, that I realized my mother had probably never had what could be described as "a delicious meal" in her life. The idea certainly explained her tasteless, charcoaled, dry meats and why she never even mentioned food could taste better than this. Why she never learned to cook, I can only guess, but as she was also so shy as to be a borderline agoraphobic, an easy guess would be she never had one at a restaurant or a friend's house either.
If my mother, who was a stay-at-home housewife from the time she married my father, didn't know how to cook and never taught me, why would you assume that people who are in the situation where they have to use food stamps (in a world where they are aware they will be judged for doing so) have been trained to cook anything from scratch? When I went to college, I knew how to cook the following: boil corn on the cob, boil hot dogs, toast bread for peanut butter and jelly, and open a bag of "Peanut M&Ms."
Meanwhile, do high schools even have a class called "Home Economics" anymore, or has it gone the way of music, drama or art? Some of the things we no longer are willing to pay to teach our nation's youth are skill sets we need our nation's citizens to have. Do you honestly believe that everyone has so much debt and so little savings because they are happy living that way? Couldn't it perhaps be because Americans won't pay to have children taught about finances in school and no one at home has the knowledge to fill the gap?
Things to think about the next time you are cluck cluck clucking about anybody in public doing anything of which you personally disapprove. If you don't like it, don't do it, but remember, that person you're judging? They may not know any other way.
This Onion Article Perfectly Illustrates Why No One Should Judge A Person On Food Stamps
While I agree we shouldn't judge a person on food stamps, for me, the article missed a huge part of the point. The article focuses on the statistic that a growing number of America's armed service members are on food stamps, as well as many other households who have at least one person who is gainfully employed. It is the typical American stance, if I have to do something, you have to do it. If I have to be tested for drugs at my place of employment, you should be tested to get financial assistance. If I have to work, you have to work, and if you're not working, you deserve nothing. I could write and yell and whisper until I fell into my grave that this IS NOT empathy, except for oneself. It seems to plainly come from a place of resentment.
In this article, however, the point that slapped me across the face was the woman, Carol Gaither, who judged what food stamp recipients were purchasing. I've long heard concerns about them buying alcohol or cigarettes, but she resented them buying "Frosted Flakes" or other brand name goods, as well as, "high priced TV dinners." "She also notes that two whole chickens and a bag of potatoes could inexpensively feed her family for a week."
Well goody for you Carol Gaither.
Let me tell you a little about myself. I am an only child. I grew up in a middle class home. I have no debt and have never been a food stamp recipient. But if I was one, you would be standing behind me in line, judging me.
Even on Thanksgiving, the vegetables on my mother's table came from a can. No, they were not mixed into some sort of tasty casserole. They were dumped out of the can, heated on the stove or in the microwave, and placed on my plate next to dry turkey and faux potatoes. Yes, "Potato Buds." Every Friday we had "Swansons."
Would it surprise you to know there are people who have never had real potatoes? Or people working full time who have never cooked a chicken? Who would stare at a raw one like a deer in headlights having no idea what to do or even where to begin?
It was only after my mother's death and teaching myself to cook via the services of Blue Apron, that I realized my mother had probably never had what could be described as "a delicious meal" in her life. The idea certainly explained her tasteless, charcoaled, dry meats and why she never even mentioned food could taste better than this. Why she never learned to cook, I can only guess, but as she was also so shy as to be a borderline agoraphobic, an easy guess would be she never had one at a restaurant or a friend's house either.
If my mother, who was a stay-at-home housewife from the time she married my father, didn't know how to cook and never taught me, why would you assume that people who are in the situation where they have to use food stamps (in a world where they are aware they will be judged for doing so) have been trained to cook anything from scratch? When I went to college, I knew how to cook the following: boil corn on the cob, boil hot dogs, toast bread for peanut butter and jelly, and open a bag of "Peanut M&Ms."
Meanwhile, do high schools even have a class called "Home Economics" anymore, or has it gone the way of music, drama or art? Some of the things we no longer are willing to pay to teach our nation's youth are skill sets we need our nation's citizens to have. Do you honestly believe that everyone has so much debt and so little savings because they are happy living that way? Couldn't it perhaps be because Americans won't pay to have children taught about finances in school and no one at home has the knowledge to fill the gap?
Things to think about the next time you are cluck cluck clucking about anybody in public doing anything of which you personally disapprove. If you don't like it, don't do it, but remember, that person you're judging? They may not know any other way.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
The Rule of 72
I'm going to have a short blog entry this week. I came down with a sinus infection or the flu or something, so I'm going to post something I posted on my Facebook page "Angiece" because, frankly, it bears repeating.
The Rule of 72
If you divide 72 by the interest rate you are earning on your money, you can find out how long it would take to double your money.
To make it easy to understand, use 10% (although pretty much nobody is earning that.)
72/10% = 7.2
so you would double your money every 7.2 years ....
Back before 2008, ING and other online banks were offering 4% ...... so we can guesstimate you would have doubled your money about every 16 years .... but .... the high interest rates only lasted a couple of years.
Meanwhile, if you think about your debt, your mortgage or your credit cards, those interest rates represent how quickly the financial institution making the loan stands to DOUBLE THEIR MONEY.
For a lot of Americans, even if they do have savings, it is in a bank earning less than 1% nowadays.
While the wealthy have the knowledge and resources where, if the savings accounts only pay what they are paying now, they move their assets someplace else.
Sometimes the stock market actually has dips simply because the wealthy have seen an indicator that told them it was time to move their money.
The Rule of 72
If you divide 72 by the interest rate you are earning on your money, you can find out how long it would take to double your money.
To make it easy to understand, use 10% (although pretty much nobody is earning that.)
72/10% = 7.2
so you would double your money every 7.2 years ....
Back before 2008, ING and other online banks were offering 4% ...... so we can guesstimate you would have doubled your money about every 16 years .... but .... the high interest rates only lasted a couple of years.
Meanwhile, if you think about your debt, your mortgage or your credit cards, those interest rates represent how quickly the financial institution making the loan stands to DOUBLE THEIR MONEY.
For a lot of Americans, even if they do have savings, it is in a bank earning less than 1% nowadays.
While the wealthy have the knowledge and resources where, if the savings accounts only pay what they are paying now, they move their assets someplace else.
Sometimes the stock market actually has dips simply because the wealthy have seen an indicator that told them it was time to move their money.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
The Decoy Effect, Mondays and Marketing
I'm not feeling very inspired today. I've promised a blog entry every Tuesday and today's post is work.
I meandered around, trying to write something intelligent. Trying to find something I knew to share with other people who might not know it. I had about five or six, stumpy, inadequate little sentences that added up to a bunch of nothing when I started scrolling through Facebook.
Inspiration came from a video shared by a friend who is studying at university. The Decoy Effect, an irreverent youtube offering that compares marketing to anal rape.
I'd never really heard of the decoy effect before, but I recognized it immediately. Essentially, you have three products offered for sale. The cheap, "Economy" model which works but offers the lowest variety or quality acceptable. It is the one day, one park Disney pass or the smallest memory iPhone. Then you have the high quality item. It is the one you really want. It is the most memory, the biggest screen, the Disney all park pass where you can switch parks mid-day as many times as you would like. In between those two, you have the Decoy.
The Decoy is a middle model. It has more than the cheap model, but not as much as the top model and yet the cost is closer to the top by comparison. The Decoy's job is to convince you what a bargain the top model really is. Except one of the examples used was buckets of popcorn at the theater. That got my mind wandering.
First, I think (the) youtube(r) got it wrong. The middle size of popcorn is NOT a decoy for the large size. With theater food, generally the individual item prices are the decoy and the economy pack is what they're trying to sell. Rather than just popcorn, you get a soda in a "collector" plastic cup, along with a hotdog or red vines or french fries or chips. You get a whole lot of food, but hey, you're paying less than you would have if you had only purchased that same size of popcorn by itself.
For an instant I realized, we could construct an argument and blame the Decoy Effect for single handedly force feeding Americans into obesity. Of course, that would be considering an entire population to be nothing more than mindless victims.
Marketing is the process of communicating the value of a product or service to customers, for the purpose of selling that product or service. Source: Wikipedia
Now, right here, I need to interrupt myself and admit I have been instructed before in the humor of jokes about Mondays, Fridays, weekends, vacations, hair loss, weight gain and aging. BTW, nothing will make you feel like you are quite as humorless as someone explaining why something is funny to you. And yet .....
Let me explain.
We create our own worlds.
Back in photography classes, we would go on "shooting" field trips. The first time or two, I would worry about originality. How could we each get unique, individualized work, if our cameras are all aimed at the same square mile of material? Yet we always did. Oh sure, go to Notre Dame, and probably every camera will have the prerequisite "gargoyle" shot. There is something about seeing an image you've seen in photos a million times before. It is hard to avoid shooting your own clone version. But other than a handful of "must shoot" shots, the variety was astounding. I always saw some images of things I hadn't even noticed as having been at the location.
We create our own worlds by what we see, what we notice, and how we perceive it.
Let's go to back to the jokes about Mondays. (Here's a simple one: I've heard of history repeating itself, but this Monday thing has got to stop.)
We all experience Mondays. A Monday is simply 24 hours that falls before the 24 hours we have labeled Tuesday and after the 24 hours we have labeled Sunday. One seventh of your life will be spent on Mondays. Monday is frequently the day you have to go back to work, school, or jury duty. The jokes depend on the notion that nobody wants to do any of those things. But ... I grew up an only child. Not only an only child, but at an early age, one who lived in the country nowhere near any other kids.
Monday was my favorite day of the week. It was the day I got to visit with my friends rather than hang out with my mother.
Lemme ask you. Picture someone who owns their own business and who seems to love their work. Maybe picture Steve Jobs?
How many awful Monday morning jokes do you suppose he told?
Now for that other "m" word. Marketing.
Nobody likes marketers, even if their first name isn't "tele." I've found people in business dislike them because they are said to promise impossibilities simply to make the sale and, frequently, they have actually underbid those impossibilities should engineering and production actually achieve them. Meanwhile, the public eyes marketing like a half dead possum spies a vulture.
Now that's a joke I've always enjoyed. (Two vultures watching a long empty highway vacant of road kill. "To hell with patience, I'm going to kill something.")
I suppose there is a lot of similarity between marketers and impatient vultures, both are hungry and have families to feed and are sick of waiting for things to happen. Just like everybody else, they want to control their world.
Lemme ask you, though, there is a big difference between "I was dying anyway" and a vulture killing you, but is there really that much difference between "I'm at the movies and I want to buy some popcorn" and "I'm at the movies and they sold me the "Blockbuster Movie du jour Collector's Pack?" They sold you exactly what they advertised, even if it does mean more food than you could eat while watching five movies. You wanted more "bang for your buck" and you got it.
While I was watching The Decoy Effect, I couldn't help but think of all the times I had noticed the attempt and laughed while I purchased whichever model I actually wanted and had intended to purchase in the first place. You see, if you subtract all the emotion and drama, every transaction becomes very simple.
What is it that I want to purchase?
How much popcorn do I want?
How much popcorn do I need?
How much popcorn can I eat or, in other words, how hungry am I?
It may not be as funny as a "the salesman should have told me to bend over and spread 'em" jokes, but perhaps it is a little bit more useful.
I meandered around, trying to write something intelligent. Trying to find something I knew to share with other people who might not know it. I had about five or six, stumpy, inadequate little sentences that added up to a bunch of nothing when I started scrolling through Facebook.
Inspiration came from a video shared by a friend who is studying at university. The Decoy Effect, an irreverent youtube offering that compares marketing to anal rape.
I'd never really heard of the decoy effect before, but I recognized it immediately. Essentially, you have three products offered for sale. The cheap, "Economy" model which works but offers the lowest variety or quality acceptable. It is the one day, one park Disney pass or the smallest memory iPhone. Then you have the high quality item. It is the one you really want. It is the most memory, the biggest screen, the Disney all park pass where you can switch parks mid-day as many times as you would like. In between those two, you have the Decoy.
The Decoy is a middle model. It has more than the cheap model, but not as much as the top model and yet the cost is closer to the top by comparison. The Decoy's job is to convince you what a bargain the top model really is. Except one of the examples used was buckets of popcorn at the theater. That got my mind wandering.
First, I think (the) youtube(r) got it wrong. The middle size of popcorn is NOT a decoy for the large size. With theater food, generally the individual item prices are the decoy and the economy pack is what they're trying to sell. Rather than just popcorn, you get a soda in a "collector" plastic cup, along with a hotdog or red vines or french fries or chips. You get a whole lot of food, but hey, you're paying less than you would have if you had only purchased that same size of popcorn by itself.
For an instant I realized, we could construct an argument and blame the Decoy Effect for single handedly force feeding Americans into obesity. Of course, that would be considering an entire population to be nothing more than mindless victims.
Marketing is the process of communicating the value of a product or service to customers, for the purpose of selling that product or service. Source: Wikipedia
Now, right here, I need to interrupt myself and admit I have been instructed before in the humor of jokes about Mondays, Fridays, weekends, vacations, hair loss, weight gain and aging. BTW, nothing will make you feel like you are quite as humorless as someone explaining why something is funny to you. And yet .....
Let me explain.
We create our own worlds.
Back in photography classes, we would go on "shooting" field trips. The first time or two, I would worry about originality. How could we each get unique, individualized work, if our cameras are all aimed at the same square mile of material? Yet we always did. Oh sure, go to Notre Dame, and probably every camera will have the prerequisite "gargoyle" shot. There is something about seeing an image you've seen in photos a million times before. It is hard to avoid shooting your own clone version. But other than a handful of "must shoot" shots, the variety was astounding. I always saw some images of things I hadn't even noticed as having been at the location.
We create our own worlds by what we see, what we notice, and how we perceive it.
Let's go to back to the jokes about Mondays. (Here's a simple one: I've heard of history repeating itself, but this Monday thing has got to stop.)
We all experience Mondays. A Monday is simply 24 hours that falls before the 24 hours we have labeled Tuesday and after the 24 hours we have labeled Sunday. One seventh of your life will be spent on Mondays. Monday is frequently the day you have to go back to work, school, or jury duty. The jokes depend on the notion that nobody wants to do any of those things. But ... I grew up an only child. Not only an only child, but at an early age, one who lived in the country nowhere near any other kids.
Monday was my favorite day of the week. It was the day I got to visit with my friends rather than hang out with my mother.
Lemme ask you. Picture someone who owns their own business and who seems to love their work. Maybe picture Steve Jobs?
How many awful Monday morning jokes do you suppose he told?
Now for that other "m" word. Marketing.
Nobody likes marketers, even if their first name isn't "tele." I've found people in business dislike them because they are said to promise impossibilities simply to make the sale and, frequently, they have actually underbid those impossibilities should engineering and production actually achieve them. Meanwhile, the public eyes marketing like a half dead possum spies a vulture.
Now that's a joke I've always enjoyed. (Two vultures watching a long empty highway vacant of road kill. "To hell with patience, I'm going to kill something.")
I suppose there is a lot of similarity between marketers and impatient vultures, both are hungry and have families to feed and are sick of waiting for things to happen. Just like everybody else, they want to control their world.
Lemme ask you, though, there is a big difference between "I was dying anyway" and a vulture killing you, but is there really that much difference between "I'm at the movies and I want to buy some popcorn" and "I'm at the movies and they sold me the "Blockbuster Movie du jour Collector's Pack?" They sold you exactly what they advertised, even if it does mean more food than you could eat while watching five movies. You wanted more "bang for your buck" and you got it.
While I was watching The Decoy Effect, I couldn't help but think of all the times I had noticed the attempt and laughed while I purchased whichever model I actually wanted and had intended to purchase in the first place. You see, if you subtract all the emotion and drama, every transaction becomes very simple.
What is it that I want to purchase?
How much popcorn do I want?
How much popcorn do I need?
How much popcorn can I eat or, in other words, how hungry am I?
It may not be as funny as a "the salesman should have told me to bend over and spread 'em" jokes, but perhaps it is a little bit more useful.
Thursday, March 27, 2014
Why You Need a Savings Account
My marriage ended a decade ago. While my ex's work benefits covered it, I saw a therapist. She suggested I keep a journal. Being very much at a "now what" point in my life, I was highly motivated to make changes and whatever the counselor said to do, I did. Recipes, artwork, clippings from magazines, anything and everything about me stuffed the pages of my scrapbook-ish journal. The last page had a photo from a magazine. A man and his cat. The man's head was tilted back slightly, extending his neck. The cat sat in front of him, held in his arms, his head tilted back as well, nestled against the man's neck. I fell in love with that picture. It would be a couple of years before I heard about the Law of Attraction, but I spent nearly every day loving that picture and wishing I had a cat who would spoon my neck.
Four years later, a young ginger male with a collar kept showing up at my doorstep. That little cat flirted like he knew he had come home. I didn't want to resist. I thought he was the cutest thing I had ever seen and I wanted to snatch him up, adopt him and bring him inside my house before someone else did.
But.
You already have a cat.
That's somebody else's cat.
It's wearing a collar. You would be stealing someone's cat.
The voices in my head, as well as some of the one's coming out of my friends' mouths, were resistant. Finally one person, who had just witnessed Peabody performing the feline equivalent of a headstand on my front step, gave me permission by saying, "That's a great cat. You should adopt that cat."
It was then I discovered a horrible truth. In an attempt to "do the right thing," I had avoided petting or touching him. When my fingers stroked his fur for the first time, I realized the collar around his neck had probably been placed there when he was little more than a kitten. I couldn't fit even a tiny bit of my finger underneath it. Afraid to cut it off him, I tried not to think I was choking him as I pulled the collar even tighter to release it. He sat calmly in my lap and purred.
Even then I resisted. Someone had put the collar on. Maybe he was lost and a family was missing him. A talk with neighbors led me to a house a few blocks away. Everyone's choice for my visitor's most likely absentee owner. A man was working on his car in the driveway when I arrived.
Do you own an orange cat?
I only pay attention to cats when I've hit them on the road ..... and then I scrape them out of the way.
OK...... well ... if you're ever looking for your cat, he's at my house.
It still took me until the first time Peabody spooned my neck for me to realize. The Universe had manifested a cat like the one in my journal!
It's all well and good to post affirmations and tell yourself we live in a world of abundance, but you can't tell The Law of Attraction "Do as I say, not as I do."
You can't just say you believe. You have to believe. Trust me, I resisted my way out of believing I deserved a cat. I also resisted my way out of believing he deserved me. I resisted until the Universe finally had to practically get rude about it.
So ..... to think about .....
1. Can you believe in an abundant world where your vision of financial freedom is possible if you don't have a savings account and you know it?
2. Did you notice I went to therapy, but only while my ex's work benefits paid for it? Yet I considered myself highly motivated to change my life. Audit yourself to see if you can discover any behaviors that contradict or undermine your affirmations and desires.
3. Could the Universe actually have manifested some of the things you dream about, but you never answered the call because you kept believing it was for somebody else?
Four years later, a young ginger male with a collar kept showing up at my doorstep. That little cat flirted like he knew he had come home. I didn't want to resist. I thought he was the cutest thing I had ever seen and I wanted to snatch him up, adopt him and bring him inside my house before someone else did.
But.
You already have a cat.
That's somebody else's cat.
It's wearing a collar. You would be stealing someone's cat.
The voices in my head, as well as some of the one's coming out of my friends' mouths, were resistant. Finally one person, who had just witnessed Peabody performing the feline equivalent of a headstand on my front step, gave me permission by saying, "That's a great cat. You should adopt that cat."
It was then I discovered a horrible truth. In an attempt to "do the right thing," I had avoided petting or touching him. When my fingers stroked his fur for the first time, I realized the collar around his neck had probably been placed there when he was little more than a kitten. I couldn't fit even a tiny bit of my finger underneath it. Afraid to cut it off him, I tried not to think I was choking him as I pulled the collar even tighter to release it. He sat calmly in my lap and purred.
Even then I resisted. Someone had put the collar on. Maybe he was lost and a family was missing him. A talk with neighbors led me to a house a few blocks away. Everyone's choice for my visitor's most likely absentee owner. A man was working on his car in the driveway when I arrived.
Do you own an orange cat?
I only pay attention to cats when I've hit them on the road ..... and then I scrape them out of the way.
OK...... well ... if you're ever looking for your cat, he's at my house.
It still took me until the first time Peabody spooned my neck for me to realize. The Universe had manifested a cat like the one in my journal!
It's all well and good to post affirmations and tell yourself we live in a world of abundance, but you can't tell The Law of Attraction "Do as I say, not as I do."
You can't just say you believe. You have to believe. Trust me, I resisted my way out of believing I deserved a cat. I also resisted my way out of believing he deserved me. I resisted until the Universe finally had to practically get rude about it.
So ..... to think about .....
1. Can you believe in an abundant world where your vision of financial freedom is possible if you don't have a savings account and you know it?
2. Did you notice I went to therapy, but only while my ex's work benefits paid for it? Yet I considered myself highly motivated to change my life. Audit yourself to see if you can discover any behaviors that contradict or undermine your affirmations and desires.
3. Could the Universe actually have manifested some of the things you dream about, but you never answered the call because you kept believing it was for somebody else?
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Buying Happiness
I tried to buy happiness for the very first time because I am a problem solver.
I was eight. It was 4th of July week and the county fair was in town. My parents, certain I would meet up with friends when I got there, dropped me off at the fair gates alone with twenty dollars in my pocket and a set time they would return to pick me up.
Number of friends found: none.
There were no cell phones, no internet. I could feed a pay phone and ask my parents to come back and get me. If they were home. The fairgrounds were hot and dusty, but I wasn't ready to leave. Not right away. Besides, I had this underlying buzz telling me I had done something wrong. A weird damned if you do, damned if you don't, anxiety. Here I was, by myself, at the Calistoga Fair with $20 in my pocket. I didn't think my parents would approve. Yet, my parents had put me in this position.
After one pass, I kept my distance from the midway. The barking carny's creeped me out. I decided to position myself where I could keep an eye on the main gate, but where I could sit out of the way, attracting as little attention as possible.
I waited at least an hour before I saw someone approximately my height walk through the turnstiles.
I knew her, but she wasn't a friend. In fact, she had called me names. Recently. I'd fallen off what we used to call "the monkey bars" right onto my face. "She" had called me "skinned nose" for at least a week. Not exactly a profanity, but I was eight. I didn't like it. I wasn't a big fan of "her" either.
I sat there, undecided, when our eyes met and she walked over to me.
How bad could it be? Carnival rides were still fun, I rationalized, even if you weren't thrilled with your riding partner.
"She" was not carrying a twenty in her pocket. According to her, she had no money at all. Nothing more than what it took to get in. We walked the fairgrounds together. The carny's were a little less creepy now that I wasn't alone, but I was having only marginally more fun that I had been earlier. As we walked, my mind thought it out.
Call home? Now that I had stayed there an hour by myself and would be choosing to leave just when another kid showed up, I felt hesitant about explaining myself to my parents.
It was then I had my brilliant idea. Twenty dollars was a lot of money in those days especially when you are only eight and what you are buying is carnival rides.
"We could ride the Zipper."
"I told you, I don't have any money."
"I could pay."
A ride on the Zipper and the Tilt-a-Whirl later, she wanted a soda. I couldn't see how I could refuse, but now that my twenty was broken into smaller bills, I felt the anxiety of knowing when it was gone, it would be gone. Like any new husband whose wife just spent a large portion of his paycheck, I was worried what she might ask for next. Or if she had friends show up and I ended up paying for everybody.
"I've got to go now. I have to meet my parents soon. They're picking me up."
She shrugged. "Ok. See you."
Truthfully I still had the better part of an hour before they would arrive. As I approached the gate, I glanced back to see if she was following me. She wasn't. No thank you and she didn't bother walking me out. The whole thing made me feel kind of dirty. Really. Whenever I would think of that day, I'd feel oddly guilty, like I had done something wrong.
I was eight and everything was measured by whether or not it would get me into trouble. Once it was over, I really couldn't see how any of it could get me into trouble. It was only years later when my father told a joke about a boy who was so ugly he had to tie a pork chop around his neck to get his dog to play with him, that I realized.
I had tried to buy a friend, at least for the afternoon. It was my first lesson on the hollow emptiness that accompanies trying to buy what can never really be purchased.
I was eight. It was 4th of July week and the county fair was in town. My parents, certain I would meet up with friends when I got there, dropped me off at the fair gates alone with twenty dollars in my pocket and a set time they would return to pick me up.
Number of friends found: none.
There were no cell phones, no internet. I could feed a pay phone and ask my parents to come back and get me. If they were home. The fairgrounds were hot and dusty, but I wasn't ready to leave. Not right away. Besides, I had this underlying buzz telling me I had done something wrong. A weird damned if you do, damned if you don't, anxiety. Here I was, by myself, at the Calistoga Fair with $20 in my pocket. I didn't think my parents would approve. Yet, my parents had put me in this position.
After one pass, I kept my distance from the midway. The barking carny's creeped me out. I decided to position myself where I could keep an eye on the main gate, but where I could sit out of the way, attracting as little attention as possible.
I waited at least an hour before I saw someone approximately my height walk through the turnstiles.
I knew her, but she wasn't a friend. In fact, she had called me names. Recently. I'd fallen off what we used to call "the monkey bars" right onto my face. "She" had called me "skinned nose" for at least a week. Not exactly a profanity, but I was eight. I didn't like it. I wasn't a big fan of "her" either.
I sat there, undecided, when our eyes met and she walked over to me.
How bad could it be? Carnival rides were still fun, I rationalized, even if you weren't thrilled with your riding partner.
"She" was not carrying a twenty in her pocket. According to her, she had no money at all. Nothing more than what it took to get in. We walked the fairgrounds together. The carny's were a little less creepy now that I wasn't alone, but I was having only marginally more fun that I had been earlier. As we walked, my mind thought it out.
Call home? Now that I had stayed there an hour by myself and would be choosing to leave just when another kid showed up, I felt hesitant about explaining myself to my parents.
It was then I had my brilliant idea. Twenty dollars was a lot of money in those days especially when you are only eight and what you are buying is carnival rides.
"We could ride the Zipper."
"I told you, I don't have any money."
"I could pay."
A ride on the Zipper and the Tilt-a-Whirl later, she wanted a soda. I couldn't see how I could refuse, but now that my twenty was broken into smaller bills, I felt the anxiety of knowing when it was gone, it would be gone. Like any new husband whose wife just spent a large portion of his paycheck, I was worried what she might ask for next. Or if she had friends show up and I ended up paying for everybody.
"I've got to go now. I have to meet my parents soon. They're picking me up."
She shrugged. "Ok. See you."
Truthfully I still had the better part of an hour before they would arrive. As I approached the gate, I glanced back to see if she was following me. She wasn't. No thank you and she didn't bother walking me out. The whole thing made me feel kind of dirty. Really. Whenever I would think of that day, I'd feel oddly guilty, like I had done something wrong.
I was eight and everything was measured by whether or not it would get me into trouble. Once it was over, I really couldn't see how any of it could get me into trouble. It was only years later when my father told a joke about a boy who was so ugly he had to tie a pork chop around his neck to get his dog to play with him, that I realized.
I had tried to buy a friend, at least for the afternoon. It was my first lesson on the hollow emptiness that accompanies trying to buy what can never really be purchased.
Monday, March 24, 2014
Financial Freedom
People act like financial freedom only happens for the likes of Warren Buffet, Bill Gates or a Rockefeller.
Let's get a few things straight.
The world, life, the universe and everything else is about me ..... just like yours is about you. We can't understand the world, taste it, see it or anything else ... without ourselves. The world ends every day for someone, but it begins for someone else.
At first blush, that seems a very lonely isolated place to be, but it really is the key to something wonderful. YOU define your world. You decide what is important to you. You decide what you want to include in your life as well as what you want to exclude.
Which means ....
You define what financial freedom is. If you decide it is only something the 1% can have, you have painted yourself into a corner where you will need to make a six figure income or marry one of Buffet's kids to feel free. For me, financial freedom came down to $150 I could give away without missing it.
Near the end of my marriage, while fears and figures performed a conga line in my brain keeping me up nights, I went to the vet to pick up some flea medicine for my cats. At the same time, a woman, who I was pretty sure was a single mom, and her son were there. Fear and sadness chilled their side of the room. I sat down quietly, waiting my turn, and pieced together what had happened from bits and pieces mumbled. The family owned a dog who had been hit by a car. I witnessed the moment the vet told them his diagnosis, "He will need an operation that costs about $150 and he'll be ok."
I can't remember what the operation was for or what type of dog they owned, but I will NEVER forget the look on the woman's face as she heard the verdict and heard her son say, "Well we're going to do it. Right mom? We're going to have the operation." I will NEVER forget how it felt inside my chest as I recognized that the answer was going to be, "No, we can't afford it."
I wanted to walk up and say, "Here, let me get that" more than nearly anything I have wanted in my life. It was important enough to me that the first Christmas after my divorce, even though I wasn't exactly bathing in money, I gave $100 to that same veterinary hospital's charity fund and I continued to give to them for a few more years after that. Honestly, I think the only reason I stopped was because it became plain they didn't really have a charity fund, just one bleeding heart woman who kept giving them money to help out other people's animals. I still give. I just don't try to create a charity where there isn't one anymore.
So to recap ... lol ...
1. You define your life.
2. Never ever imagine yourself OUT of what you dream about having or doing.
3. Mansions and sports cars would be nice and fun, but money can also buy you the very good feeling you get from simply having done something nice for somebody else.
It just depends on you. Have you thought about what would make you feel financially free?
Let's get a few things straight.
The world, life, the universe and everything else is about me ..... just like yours is about you. We can't understand the world, taste it, see it or anything else ... without ourselves. The world ends every day for someone, but it begins for someone else.
At first blush, that seems a very lonely isolated place to be, but it really is the key to something wonderful. YOU define your world. You decide what is important to you. You decide what you want to include in your life as well as what you want to exclude.
Which means ....
You define what financial freedom is. If you decide it is only something the 1% can have, you have painted yourself into a corner where you will need to make a six figure income or marry one of Buffet's kids to feel free. For me, financial freedom came down to $150 I could give away without missing it.
Near the end of my marriage, while fears and figures performed a conga line in my brain keeping me up nights, I went to the vet to pick up some flea medicine for my cats. At the same time, a woman, who I was pretty sure was a single mom, and her son were there. Fear and sadness chilled their side of the room. I sat down quietly, waiting my turn, and pieced together what had happened from bits and pieces mumbled. The family owned a dog who had been hit by a car. I witnessed the moment the vet told them his diagnosis, "He will need an operation that costs about $150 and he'll be ok."
I can't remember what the operation was for or what type of dog they owned, but I will NEVER forget the look on the woman's face as she heard the verdict and heard her son say, "Well we're going to do it. Right mom? We're going to have the operation." I will NEVER forget how it felt inside my chest as I recognized that the answer was going to be, "No, we can't afford it."
I wanted to walk up and say, "Here, let me get that" more than nearly anything I have wanted in my life. It was important enough to me that the first Christmas after my divorce, even though I wasn't exactly bathing in money, I gave $100 to that same veterinary hospital's charity fund and I continued to give to them for a few more years after that. Honestly, I think the only reason I stopped was because it became plain they didn't really have a charity fund, just one bleeding heart woman who kept giving them money to help out other people's animals. I still give. I just don't try to create a charity where there isn't one anymore.
So to recap ... lol ...
1. You define your life.
2. Never ever imagine yourself OUT of what you dream about having or doing.
3. Mansions and sports cars would be nice and fun, but money can also buy you the very good feeling you get from simply having done something nice for somebody else.
It just depends on you. Have you thought about what would make you feel financially free?
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