I get some flack from associates of mine about my apparent stinginess when it comes to spending money. They seem to be under the assumption that because I only recently got married and have no children that I wipe my rear end with $100 bills. I wish that were the case - the being comfortably wealthy part, not the using money for toilet paper part. I imagine that would do terrible things to my septic system, not to mention more than likely being incredibly rough on my posterior.
Be that as it may, I've never been one to spend money on a whim as I prefer to be more precise in budgeting my funds than most other folk seem to be. (That's an admittedly bold assumption on my part seeing as how I don't make a point to talk up personal financial strategies during casual conversation.) I like to know how much of the money in pot A is going to be taken away from me by services X, Y, and Z, thereby giving me a pretty firm understanding of what I have to work with at all times. I have a fairly well-structured monthly budget and I do a better than decent job of staying within those parameters by spending money that is actually mine instead of making use of credit, however temptation is always afoot. Case in point, I've had a handful of what some might call high-dollar items in my Amazon checkout for several weeks now. I log into my account occasionally and am almost always immediately antagonized by financing offers. Could I afford to take on the extra expense? Sure I could, but I haven't pulled the trigger on making that purchase (yet) mainly because my fragile sense of stability might be irreparably damaged were I to do so.
On top of this is the fact that I tend to suffer from buyer's remorse. Essentially whenever I make a purchase - even if it's for something I actually want or otherwise need - I tend to focus on the "What if?" of the scenario, namely what else could I have bought with the money I just handed over. This being the case, you probably won't be surprised to find out that I don't much care to pay for services which I don't interpret as being genuinely beneficial to me in some way, shape, or form.
An example of this would be the fees associated with purchasing event tickets online via Ticket Master. If you've never done business with them (good for you), you may not be aware that when purchasing event tickets in addition to the cost of admittance you're also charged with facility and convenience fees. Ticket Master doesn't divulge what these fees cover (shocker), a fact which has lead me to make my own conclusions. By my estimation, the convenience fee is supposed to make customers feel good about not having had to stand in line or deal with a person face-to-face during the purchase process. (The fact that mine is the last generation who will have known the excitement of camping overnight to be near the front of a line to buy tickets is rather disheartening to me. Gone are the days of the truly dedicated being rewarded for their being opportunistically unemployed!) The facility fee must then be the cut of money that goes to the venue. Some cohorts of mine and I have taken to referring to it as the "take a dump" fee, the joke being that these monies go towards covering the costs the venue incurs by way of patrons making use of the facilities.
That's two poop references thus far in this entry, friends - if you aren't impressed with the high-brow nature of this publication by now I don't know what else I can do to sway you into my favor.
Are these fees entirely pointless? Probably not (I'd more than likely feel better about paying them if there was full disclosure as to their purpose or if they were lumped into the price of admission) but I think you can understand my frustration when the price of a ticket goes from $30 to $45 because of fees. We're already paying through the nose for our stubs, more often than not, but we'll have to pay even more for a set of phantom services just to get in the door. That's not good business, however it is how you potentially price your audience out of being able to attend an event.
Another scenario that exemplifies my displeasure with being forced to pay for a service which ultimately yields no tangible product is the concept of paying for parking. My wife and I went to the South Carolina State Fair this past Sunday evening. The parking lot attached to the fairgrounds is humongous and freely accessible to fair-goers, but with Sunday being the last day of the fair and the weather being particularly agreeable conditions were such that untold thousands descended upon the festivities for rides, games, entertainment, and one final taste of all-things deep fried (there was a vendor selling deep fried Kool Aid this year, proving yet again that there's no end in sight to the potential for food items to be dipped in batter, cooked in hot grease and served with a side of ranch dressing) before bidding the carnies farewell for another year. The lot was filled to capacity when we arrived which meant we had to seek out parking elsewhere in one the auxiliary lots, meaning we would have to pay to park.
It cost us $5 to leave my wife's car sitting perilously close to a set of railroad tracks in a field being supervised (at the time we entered) by two little old ladies and a guy with a flag who was attempting to direct customers into empty spaces. The fact that we weren't given any kind of validation ticket let me know that this wasn't exactly a professional operation we were dealing with. (Shriners were running this particular lot; I know they do good work for kids but I can't take anyone wearing a fez seriously.) When we returned several hours later, the little old ladies and the flagman were nowhere to be found.
My problem with this is two-fold: 1) Our car could've been damaged, looted, or stolen outright and 2) that $5 could've gone towards something of actual use, like an order of fried mushrooms or a refill on our souvenir lemonade.
That's what this is ultimately about, you see - I had to pay for something which I perceive as being completely pointless which, in turn, denied me the ability to buy something I actually wanted. (The vendors at the fair don't accept debit cards and I only had so much cash on hand. Sure, there are ATMs at the fair but do you really think I'm going to fork over $3 for the privilege of withdrawing my own money?) I don't mind paying for services, even parking. My wife and I visit Charleston's historic district a few times a year and we always have to pay for parking but I don't mind doing so there because the lots have attendants on site so long as there are cars parked in their domain. Sure our car could get damaged whilst parked therein, but at least there would be someone nearby to take note of the matter in our stead.
Reading this blog, I guess it's no wonder that I worry about money, a lot. I worry about it more than anything else, truth be told. I worry that I don't have enough of it to provide for my family and to give us what we need as well as what we want. I'd be lying if I said I'm not envious of others for what they have and we don't, even though I have just about every creature comfort, every gadget, every "big boy toy" you could imagine that would appeal to a grown-up kid like myself. I'd like to think that I'm not unique in my anxiety but, at the same time, I feel like there are times where I have difficulty thinking about anything else.
All that having been said, do they make Prozac pills with dollar signs on them? I may need a specific dose for what ails me.
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