Me and My Money

This morning -- Sunday morning -- my husband pulled a tub of cream cheese out of his school bag:

"Shit."
"Has that been in there since Friday?!"
"No."
"Really?"
"No."
"How much is in there?"
"Not much. It's practically empty."
"Craig it's three quarters full! That's almost three dollars worth!"

I'm pleased to say that a fight did not ensue, but I pursed my lips. There was definitely pursing. Bad enough he made the move to cream cheese and bagels from the much more economical peanut butter and jam sammies, but this?! This means I clipped three dollars worth of coupons for nothing.

Those of you who've read my short essay in the Globe and Mail (see blog posting May 6th) know that I am a keen saver (who bought a big expensive painting and learned a valuable lesson about life in the process blah blah blah). Because of that essay, a columnist -- Sarah Hampson -- at the Globe contacted me last week for some quotes about money-loving for a piece she's writing about obsessive savers. I told her that I don't consider myself obsessive:

"As I stand here, we have a geothermal furnace being installed downstairs and a patio and landscaping being done in the backyard. I know how to spend money."

It's a funny thing to be asked how you feel about money, especially knowing that those feelings might be quoted in a national newspaper. I come from a family -- and indeed, a society -- where talking about money in actual figures is impolite (although I regularly break this rule...and then realize it and feel guilty about it afterwards). How much do I need in my bank account to feel comfortable? Where did my feelings about money come from? Do I have a credit card balance? How big is my mortgage? (I have no idea why I completely shied away from that last question but had no qualms saying that I liked to have a $3,000 float in our account. Why the difference?)
I am fascinated by money and people's relationships to it, even though it's tough to be voyeuristic given that money matters are kept so private. (I have to satisfy my curiosity with shows like Til Debt Do Us Part.) I don't know how my interest started. My family was middle class -- I never wanted for anything, but I do remember money being a vague source of tension between my parents once in a while. And my impulses to make money and save money began when I started highschool -- a logical extension of my perfectionist / controlling drive that later also blossomed into anorexia. My own personality must come into play -- my brother and I grew up in the same household but had, and have, different ideas about money. After my parents' divorce and my post-secondary education in feminist theory and cultural theory, I saw money and labour much more politically.

Women in this country and the USA make 75 cents to a man's dollar. Women are almost always the financial losers in divorce settlements, especially when there are children. Jobs that are considered "nurturing" and traditionally feminine are underpaid: in my neck of the woods, the average salary for a daycare worker is about $20,000 a year, and the starting salary for an elementary school teacher is just under $30,000. The starting salary for a police officer, however, is as much as $60,000. Men are four times more likely to negotiate a higher starting salary than women. Research has shown that statistically, a woman's educational and professional attainments are inversely linked to marital stability; as the attainments increase, so does the likelihood that her marriage will fail. Marriage for men, however, means an increase in their wages.

But let me shift from that for a moment to relay an anecdote that I grew up hearing about: my parents' longtime friends Tim and Gail were young and in love and had just gotten married. After they got back from their honeymoon Tim presented Gail with money for the week's household expenses: $20. She calmly took that $20 bill, ripped it in half, and gave it back to him. Gail handled the finances from then on. They are now happily retired in Arizona, playing golf and attending various country club events, neither of which would be my cup of tea but clearly they've done alright.

Utlimately, my attitudes about earning and saving and spending are in reaction to one or more of several things -- an upbringing where money was clearly available but either a vague source of tension or an overwhelming irritation for adults; a panicked effort to save for university; an attempt to exert more control over my life; a response to the statistics about women and money and my mother's own divorce experience; and the logical outcome of learning about materialism and consumerism via Cultural Studies. Whatever the combination of factors that are responsible, I feel fortunate to have avoided the today's financial norm: consumer debt in the thousands, sometimes tens of thousands. Is this obsessive?

The Globe column out today notes that Craig and I are careful with our money -- we don't drink, we don't go out to eat, we don't travel, and I don't buy beauty products or purses. I can just hear people thinking: "What do they do for fun? Count their money?" I'm sure there will be many such comments on the column's discussion board. Let me say in total and complete honesty: I have travelled. Craig has travelled. We have lived abroad. We don't miss it. This summer we're renting a cottage and having friends and family over. It will cost much less than a week at some resort; it will have none of the hassle of air travel and less of an eco footprint. And if our previous cottage trips are anything to go by, it will be a hell of a lot of fun. Let me also say: I have, basically, two pairs of shoes: Birkenstocks and Blundstones. They are wonderful. They last for years. They're good for my poor flat feet and weird toes. Furthermore: jeans go with everything.
"Fun" is now largely an idea constructed by advertisers. We have fun with our dogs, but this kind of fun doesn't really yield the same kind of corporate profit as a trip to Disney World. We have fun cooking together, but this gives exactly nothing to the folks at Boston Pizza. We have fun on hikes. We have fun at public parks and in our garden. We have fun with our play group. WE HAVE FUN WATCHING SO YOU THINK YOU CAN DANCE AND IF YOU DON'T TOO THEN THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU.

Really, we can debate what's fun and what isn't -- what's worth the money we spend and what isn't -- but these are relative and personal things. Here is what I think is true for all of us: we give too much money to corporations, and too many of us suffer as a consequence. Corporatized fun is someone else's profit dressed up as our nirvana. But it's such a pretty dress. This is why I regret something that I said to Hampson -- something glib and thoughtless that, heaven help me, ended up being the punch line in her column. I said that when I watched people on TV trying to cope with their debt that I thought they were "poor suckers." I'm ashamed this came out of my mouth. People who fall deep into consumer debt have been convinced by a very cunning and pervasive capitalist system that buying things is a necessity, or even a human right of sorts. We need more education about how this system works against us, and we need it sooner -- we need it to start in grade school. I've made colossal spending mistakes, but I've also been lucky to have the kind of education that counteracted many of the harmful effects of living in a consumer culture.

I recently read about a women's "Money Club," which is like a book club but instead helps women cut costs, save, budget, invest, etc. Here's the kicker: the women have to use real numbers. Not only are these women taking control of their finances together (thus breaking down the isolation and gender inequity of money matters), but they're bucking a longstanding social rule about the supposed gaucheness of money talk. I wonder about this: would being more open about our dollar amounts demystify money, or would it only increase its centrality? Not that I want everyone to walk around with an assigned dollar value scrawled across their chest, but I think that just maybe, more openness about our finances would give us a sense of solidarity and shared experience that would defuse the competitive nature of conspicuous consumption. I once heard a debt expert on the radio say that if everyone driving a sparkling new car spray painted the amount they still owed on it, plus their interest charges, on the side of the car, then far fewer of us would be striving to keep up with the Joneses. If we all knew what our financial situations were, would we be more inclined to do potluck rather than go to a restaurant? To have smaller weddings rather than lavish affairs? Would we find something to do together other than shopping?

Would we recognize that our social connections needn't be mitigated so heavily by the commerical?

And would we PLEASE just spread the damn cream cheese on the bagels BEFORE we leave for work rather than take the whole tub to sit in our bag all the live long day?!