Financial Hack

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Perhaps quitting a job should be easier…

The good news? I’m making money from two jobs.

The bad news? I have to work two jobs.

My last day at ‘Big Box Store’ is quickly approaching…err… what I thought was my last day.

‘Hey Rebekah, quick chat?’ my manager asked as he peaked out from his office.

‘Sure’ I said and sat down.

‘I know we’ve talked about your last day being Saturday but we’re going to need you to stay a bit longer’ he said looking months in advance at his calendar.

‘Look bud. I already gave you an extra week. I’m done, I’m through. I can’t work this many hours without dropping the ball somewhere. No. N-O’… is what I should have said but I actually said, ‘I understand. No problem. Just let me know when it’s most convenient for you.’

It’s like a bad break-up. What’s next? Drunk dialed needy messages with ‘Big Box Store’ listed on my missed calls list?

We’ve agreed to see each other on weekends *cough* I mean, I’ve agreed to only work weekends. This leaves approximately… carry the 5, minus the 4… NO days off. BUT, I negotiated January 10th as my last day…. Or was it February 10th? … April 10th?

No seriously guys. I totally mean it this time. Err. I think?

I wish I could say that I’ve used the extra money responsibly but… oh… I’ll leave that for the next post.

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I’ve stuck by my commitment to reducing costs by taking public transportation. Sure I’ve had a few problems including run-ins with transients, druggies, and intoxicated folks but my biggest problem seems to be me.

Based on the recommendations from readers and co-workers, I’ve made friends with the train drivers. It seemed like a very good idea to have an extra set of eyes watching out for me…

‘SEEMED’ is the operable word here.

If there is one thing reliable about public transport, it’s that it ALWAYS leaves on time. If I’m one minute late, I have to catch the next train. I’m usually on time but last week, a bad hair day slowed me down. I arrived at the station exactly on time but I still had to run down the platform – a task that usually takes 42 seconds. Not wanting to be forced to wait on a dark, scary platform for 15 minutes…

I ran.

I slid to a stop in front of the train door and slammed my fist on the door opener. The doors opened and I continued full speed into the train steps.

Yes. INTO the steps.

And then continued to embarrass myself by falling UP the stairs and onto the rubber floor. Didn’t know you could fall UP a set of stairs? Trust me, if there is a way to embarrass myself… I find it.

I sat face first on the floor for a couple seconds expecting the train to start moving forward but it didn’t move. Confused, I started to pick myself off the floor and glanced up…meeting the eyes of the train driver who was laughing so hard he had lost his breath.

‘I saw you running. I was waiting for you. No need to throw yourself at a train!’ he said laughing.

I had to endure snickers from the driver every time he opened the door to assist a handicapped passenger for the next 48 minutes of my commute.

Great. Like I need THAT kind of reputation.

All for saving money right?

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Our New Year’s celebration was… interesting?
Chris decided to celebrate the New Year by roasting a pig in our back yard.

To answer the obvious question…

Yes, Californians can be rednecks.

I’m married to one.

In consideration of your gentle stomachs, I am only including photos of the wrapped pig.

Thanks to the neverending visual… I’ll never be able to eat a carnitas burrito again.

They started with a fire...

While the girls stayed indoors...

They wrapped it in banana leaves...

It was circled with foil

And placed it in coals...

They pulled it out 12 hours later

And readied it for the crowd...

And there was a CROWD...

For dessert? Brownies with white chocolate piggies!

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I’ve never been a ‘New Year’s Resolution’ kind of gal.

I have the willpower of a four year old and I’d rather not embarrass myself by making promises I know full well I can’t keep – especially when it comes to reducing sugar, salt, and large amounts of Mexican food from my diet.

Sadly, financial ambitions are far easier for me to keep.

This year, I decided to set some pretty significant financial goals. I sat down with my trusty calculator, my stack of bills, and a pad of paper. If all continues normally, I feel I can realistically accomplish the following by December 31, 2009:

February 2009: Pay off my car.

July 2009: Pay off my credit card.

December 2009: Reduce the financial burden of my husband’s truck by 60%.

But since my life is sort of like a dramatic/musical/comedy/horror movie… I have my villains to set me back…

New tires for the truck – the tires are bald and we’re heading into a rainy season.

Roommates – Our roomies are getting married and moving out. My brother is staying but we’ll be losing some cash flow.

Me – I like to travel… and my finger gets itchy when searching Travelzoo.com. Who knows when a travel newsflash for a cheap German vacation will cause me to say, “2010 is an even year. I’ll work on my debt then. It’s better for my debt ch’i”

And perhaps the biggest villain of all…

Governor Schwarzenegger.

The state of California is going bankrupt and I have a government job. I can see the writing on the wall…

And it’s not pleasant.

I don’t know if I can survive another axing. I’m not ready to start again.

Tomorrow: stay tuned for my New Year’s photo story.
Monday: My first ‘incident’ on public transit.

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Thanks to my new work schedule, I don’t have time to exercise… not that I exercised much in the first place… but I like to try.

My job at the Big Box Store keeps me moving but I started to feel lethargic while sitting at my Company X desk. So…I decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator.

I thought this was a great idea but…

I work on the tenth floor.

The TENTH floor.

On my first try, I started heaving like a pack a day smoker by the 3rd flight of stairs.

Oh but wait, it gets better. I thought it would be a good idea to take the stairs twice daily.

I haven’t been able to walk without looking like a gimp since.

That’s it. I think I’ll just eat less.

It’s easier.

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I’m bad at a lot of things.

I’m bad at spending money (I like the smell of new things!)…

bad at painting my nails red (with the amount I get all over my fingers, they look more bloody than manicured)…

bad at playing any sort of sports (they require athleticism – which I have none)…

But I’ve discovered yet another thing I’m bad at – quitting a job.

I was on the fence about quitting my second job until I realized I was simply taking my current 6 day work week with Big Box Store and adding 40 hours. Sleeping 5 ½ hours a night is killing me and I’m starting to doze at my desk.

I can’t lose a good job over a not so great one.

As I was toughing it out through a nine hour shift with Big Box Store on Saturday, I was approached by my manager…

‘Hey Rebekah, can we talk for a minute in my office?’ he asked.

‘Sure, no problem. What can I help you with?’ I asked, scared.

‘Your last day is next Saturday right?’

I nodded yes.

‘How committed are you to that being your official last day?’

Before I could respond, he continued, ‘Because we really appreciate your hard work here and we’d like to keep you on for another week. You can do that right?’ he said.

‘Um. Uh.’ I sputtered ‘Sure.’

I haven’t seen or spent time with my husband in three weeks thanks to my hectic work schedule, I haven’t slept in days, I can’t remember the last time I made a decent dinner, my house is falling apart…and I just committed to two more weeks of this.

I have the backbone of a gummy bear.

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As always, I’m continually looking for ways to cut costs from anywhere and everywhere including…gasp…bottled water.

I bought one of those ‘earth friendly’ metal water bottles – though I question the ‘friendliness’ of metal. Sure I’ll be using less plastic but how biodegradable is metal anyway?!?

Regardless, I was concerned about the financial impact of purchasing and carting plastic water bottles to work on a daily basis so I thought I’d give the world of reusable’s a try.

I carefully filled the bottle, took a sip……

And I have one thing to say.

I have standards and this… is way below them.

And… my standards aren’t that high to begin with. My city uses reclaimed sewer water that tastes like a cross between Dial soap and dirty socks and I can somehow drink that - but this? My bottle makes water taste like a welders refuse pile.

And trust me… I KNOW what metal tastes like. Twenty-four months of my life were spent with railroad tracks of braces glued to my teeth.

Needless to say, I won’t be re-using the metal bottle again. Maybe I’ll throw it in with the aluminum cans for recycling?

But, I wasn’t going to be deterred! My new job stocks bright red mugs with ‘Company X’ blazed across the front and stores them in the kitchen for community use. Sure there was a risk that I’d come down with communicable diseases from improperly washed dishware but at least my water would be drinkable.
…Unfortunately, as I was washing the mug, I noticed the tiny print on the bottom that read, ‘The colors used to tint this mug contain lead. Do not use if pregnant or nursing.’

Great. Like I need that to worry about. I’m not pregnant but now I’ll always worry about having a child with a mild deformation because ‘mommy wanted to save a buck’.

Thankfully, a co-worker noticed me struggling to bleach a mug and gave me a brand new Nalgene bottle.

Good thing he wasn’t there to witness my interesting way of drinking to avoid touching any colored areas on the mug.

Always looking to save. ; )

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Thanks to a recent subsity called ‘My Brother Bought Me Tickets to Disneyland’ - funded by… my brother - I was able to spend some time at the ‘Happiest Place on Earth’ over the weekend.

We laughed, we screamed, and we played for 12 hours straight.

On the way home, I couldn’t help but take a moment to realize how blessed I am… how blessed most of us are.

I have debt but…

I have my health.

I have debt but…

I dont’ go to bed hungry.

I have debt but…

I have a loving family.

I have debt but…

I have a roof over my head.

I have debt but…

I’m married to an amazing man.

I have debt but…

it’s temporary.

Isn’t it time we all jump for joy?

Be good. Stay Safe. Merry Christmas.

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First off, my computer is in the middle of it’s own menopausal hot flash - yeah, she’s getting up there in age - and has decided not to let me use Word anymore so I’m writing this blog off some ghetto version of notebook or scratch pad or scrap paper. Something like that. If the spelling is a bit off - more than usual anyway - blame my elderly memory chip/gallbladder.

As long as she doesn’t start having an incontinence problem, I think I can work around it.

I didn’t realize how much I relied on that stupid spelling red squiggly line until I noticed… I mispelled my own name on my last e-mail.

Rebekha rebakhe rebeccah. It’s like being in the first grade all over again and wondering why my mom decided to make me ’special’ and spell my name oddly.

I started the new job and I love it… with two exceptions:

1.) They make us wear photo badges.

As per usual (*note: please see my drivers license for a gleaming example)…

my photo makes me look like I stood on the shores of Hiroshima during the drop of the Atom Bomb.

I knew I should have called Glamour Shots before reporting to work or… at least showered. Whatever. I’ve been cursed by the photo gods so I quit trying.

2.) I work one floor from the top of a high rise building.

It sounds great… until you realize the buildings were created to move with the earth, the weather, the wind, the 90 pound guy who leans on the building to smoke…

When was the last time YOU got motion sickness at your desk?!?!

I’m still working for the ‘Big Box Store’ at night. I put in my notice so I’ll be pulling 13 hour days for the next two weeks solid. It sounded easy until I did it yesterday and thought I’d die from exhaustion.

Two weeks?

At least I won’t have time to spend money.

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I’ve decided to share my debt payment progress with you in a different way. I’m going to start showing photos of things I actually own – because in reality, if I owe money on it… I don’t own it.

I wanted to show myself how far I’ve come and I thought I’d share it with you. Over time, as we pay things off, we’ll be able to share photos of the items that, for once in our lives, we don’t run the risk of having to give back.

Let’s get down to the nitty gritty of what I owe in ascending order.

1 – My car. Yup, sadly, this is what we owe the least on.

This is how much of my car loan I have paid off since starting the financial class…

30%

And yes, this is the only photo you will be seeing slowly uncovered for the next month or so – because it’s first on our focus list.

2 – My credit card.

I can’t put a photo of nothing on here – because that’s specifically how much I remember of everything I’ve charged, but trust me… I’ll figure out something to represent… nothing.

3 – My student loan…s. They’re like Pringles potato chips. No one can stop with just one right?

I think I’ll slowly uncover that dusty diploma?

Maybe, just maybe, I’ll share my initials with you… and the reasons why they are terribly embarrassing.

My graduation photo? Hmm. That could be funny.

4 – My husband’s student loan…s. Thanks to the fabulous new interest rates they give people who actually work to better their lives (ha ha about the student loan interest rates), this one is quite painful.

… and he doesn’t have his diploma yet. Maybe I’ll uncover one of his $600 textbooks?

His $200 parking pass?

5 – My husband’s truck – his pride and joy. I know he’ll never love that truck as much as he will when we actually OWN it.

So there they are… the five reasons we owe $38,000 dollars to perfect strangers. Wait, I promised an updated number didn’t I? Well, let me repeat that sentence…

So there they are… the five reasons we owe $35,120 to perfect strangers.

Not to toot my own horn here but… I’ve been working for peanuts and eating Ramen. I think my husband (who sacrifices so much) and I have reason to be excited about that new number considering the circumstances.

But thank you, readers, for being a listening ear and a helpful hand.

We’re going to get there.