I’m clueless. Alicia Silverstone-type-of-clueless, that is.
Way past fresh grad phase, one would think that I have made my way into finding out about studying finances, poring over Excel sheets and maintaining books. But I’m nowhere near anything that requires computations.
As if on cue, my mom called from across the other side of the world to conduct a “catch up” on me, my life and gasp, my finances. Que horror!
No matter how good I thought I was at skirting the issue, my mom dug the cat out of the bag soon. Aside from bajillion clothes, accessories I never knew I had, spa receipts and mementos from vacations, I’ve got absolutely nothing. Nil. Nada. Zero.She tells me, “Hija, you’re a walking liability than an asset. For the three years you’ve been working, that is all you’ve got to show me. And, don’t tell me that gadgets and bags are investments.”
In an attempt to impart a lesson or two, my mom decided to freeze all my accounts, all supplementary credit cards, leaving me a blank check only to be filled out by her sister, my tita, of a company’s name. The check, she instructs, is mine for the taking not now, but for the future. “Find something you can put it into that will give you something back in years’ time. If you learn how to put your money somewhere profitable, for a lack of a better term, you will get all your accounts back. And more.”
And so with a heavy heart and even more clueless-ness, I began my research into the pit of darkness also known as moolah-generating instruments.
So far, these are my options:
1.Garage Sale. I have too many bags and shoes and clothes and gadgets and oh. Forget it. I’m not letting go of my bags/shoes/clothes.
2.Start a cupcake shop. The problem though is I don’t know how to bake.
3.Casino. Thing is, I suck at poker or any card game for that matter.
4.Donate to the charity. Maybe my mom was referring to karma? At least I’ll be rich in good karma. Ha!
5.Try that savings instrument SmartStarter8 thing my friend Carla was blabbing about. While I was not so keen on the thought, I was sold on the idea of getting money [returns as she puts it] every three years for the rest of my life. Not only would this mean new designer bags every 3 years, the product, as she says, translates to an insurance policy — something that I don’t have yet. What a ca
And this, folks, is the story of how I started my affair with math and saving — without having to give up my shoes. Or my shopping habits.
