elementary karma economics

I’m feeling generous today.

Which is not entirely to be expected, considering the fact that I had to get up early for a meeting this morning even though I don’t have class today, and the fact that I had to walk into town in the soft, slippery, blindingly white snow.  You might also think I would be stingy these days, since I am supposed to be keeping close track of my finances and I was sure that such a task would prevent me from throwing down money at the drop of the hat.

Okay, I haven’t been doing that – obviously throwing money at hats is more than mere carelessness.  I think the fact that I have not been doing this is a good sign.

***

I’ve been realizing this year that hospitality style has a lot to do with friendship.  I’m not suggesting you set out frilly towels and dust ruffles for houseguests, and I definitely do not mean to imply that if my host(ess) fails to decorate the guest room to my liking, then our friendship is going nowhere fast.  I mean that I don’t keep a tab with my closest friends, and they don’t keep one with me.  We just keep tabs on each other.  These open bars just keep on feeding each other drinks.

One Monday evening last semester I got out of work early to ride with Mary up to visit Bethel College.  She was going to a seminary open house there, and I thought a change of scene would be welcome and productive.  Plus, I like to think about my parents there 25 years ago.

Unfortunately I had to skip dinner to make it there on time, so by the time we got home it was very late and I was famished.  We stopped at Subway and I ordered a sandwich and when it came time to pay the cashier said, “I’m sorry, this card is being declined.”  I looked at the register: $6.42.  Seriously?  Mary lent me some cash, but in some detached universe I was mortified.  The balance of my checking account turned out to be just over two dollars.

Our guest speaker in class yesterday works for Wells Fargo and she gave us the lowdown on credit.  She explained that sometimes, if you have a common name like Smith or Jones, items that factor into your credit score can get mixed up with items that belong in someone else’s credit score.  “I think that’s what happened here,” she said of her example (with all identifying information blacked out), “because I work with this person, I know him well, and he’s much better than a 720 credit score.”

My desperate hope is that, despite a rejected six-dollar charge on my debit card, or any other current or future blemishes on my credit report, I am much better than an 850 credit score.  (For those of you who don’t know, 850 is the maximum credit score you can have, and pretty much guarantees you the lowest interest rate on any credit cards you apply for.  I would just hope that my credit score has little or nothing to do with my overall character.  Please vouch for me here.)

***

How much does a change of scene, a few hours of free Wi-Fi, patrons-only restroom access, and uninterrupted to-do-list-ticking-off time cost?  Is one almond chai bubble tea and a 25% tip enough?

The problem with Personal Finance is the inherent susceptibility to obsessive number crunching, receipt hoarding, and penny pinching.  And a reversion to that economic theory of relationships (tell me again, Dr. Treen: who spearheaded that theory?).  I’m also fascinated by NINJA (no income, no job) loans.  They sound like such an adventure!  Just like credit card advertisements.  (I just heard one on the radio claiming that a Discover card can make you a millionaire.  Also, something to do with an emergency chocolate stash.  I almost laughed out loud, but just in time I balanced my personality checkbook with a quick subtraction of financial nerddom and salvaged my sense of humor and pride.)

Fortunately, I hadn’t lost sight of myself to the extent that I couldn’t stop when I saw a woman’s tires spitting out snow in front of the post office.  She wasn’t going anywhere, so with my recently discovered gumption I called out and asked if she needed a shove.  “Maybe,” she called back, and gave it some more gas.  She wouldn’t ask, but I got behind the car, wedged my boots sideways in the slippery mounds of snow, and put my whole weight behind those spitting tires.  (Reason #2 that I’ve been working out…  I’m flexing right now.  Oh yeah.)  I heard a man’s voice make some exclamation from the post office steps, but before he could come over and lend his manly muscles to the task she was on her way, and waved her cigarette hand at me while she drove off.  I grinned and left to get me a tea and get down to business.

***

I’m g-chatting with Liz in Ghana right now, and she just marveled at the “plasticity of friendship.”  (Plasticity, like the unlimited credit balance on our friendship complete with automatic monthly payments…  Without interest and without hurting us in our hospitality banks.)  We joke about how our shared therapist must have a field day with the two of us – maybe sometime we’ll do a double session.  It would be like an ethically-questionable counseling sitcom.  Until then, though, “I love how friends are also life coaches at times.”  Free of charge.  This open bar is still open, baby.