Today I was on campus, in the library, getting some reading done before my 4:30 class. My stomach growled. It was around 3:30, and I hadn't eaten since the handful of pretzels I'd munched on at noon, which sufficed as my lunch. I typically plan better than this and pack a snack. Knowing that I wouldn't have access to my fridge until after my class ended at 7:00, I considered my options. I could pay for a $1.00 granola bar from the vending machine, or I could wait it out. (It should be noted that, as a mid- to upper-class resident of an industrialized nation, it's not like I'm starving.) I chose what I always choose: the free option. I waited, (appalled at the idea that the vending machine charges $1 for a mere granola bar) and fed my grumbling tummy sufficiently at around 8 p.m. when I got home.
All of my friends probably know this about me already, but it's something that I rarely talk about, and something that no one would typically bring up in everyday conversation: I'm a frugal person. You could also call me thrifty, or a saver, or a cheapskate, or a miser, depending on how offensive you're feeling today. No matter the label, the fact is that I'm great at saving money and have a hard time spending it.
Now that I've lived about a quarter-century and have met an assortment of people, I'm led to believe that frugality is an inherited quality -- and I don't mean genetically. It's the kind of behavior that your parents will culturally instill in you during your upbringing. I was taught to be money-conscious at an early age. I learned that money was something that you worked for, not something that you just have, and that it's important to keep a constant eye on your spending-to-earning ratio if you want to make any plans. Do you want to go to college? Well, can you pay for it? Debt is bad. Savings are important, and every purchase needs to be considered in light of its necessity. Could you be saving this money? Should you? My sister is the same way.
I have no idea whether my parents actually intended to indoctrinate me with these values, but nevertheless, here they are. As a result, I've become a relatively financially successful adult (something that I do believe my parents are proud of). I've consistently saved money, no matter my wage. I worked throughout college, lived within my means, kept a hawk's eye on my checking account, and saved enough to pay back my student loans by the time I completed undergrad. As far as my bank and the credit-monitoring institutions are concerned, my lifestyle and fiscal outlook are fabulous.
Over time, though, I've learned that being an objectively successful financial planner has its downsides. There are the immediate drawbacks (such as turning down invitations to go out to dinner with friends because eating at home is cheaper, or opting to order a side salad when you do deign to go out). But then there are the lasting downsides (e.g., Your friends will never perceive you as carefree or flexible because it slowly becomes clear that every decision you make is financially pre-calculated). If you aspire to be a generous person, as I do, it's a little crushing to realize that your fiscally Gollum-like impulses are antithetical to that goal.
Granted, of all the problems in the world to have, the "I'm too good at saving money" problem has to rank just below "Everyone keeps getting distracted by my how pretty I am" as among the least pitiable issues on the planet.
At the same time, though, a problem is a problem. And once you've realized that your frugality is a little excessive, how do you proceed? Habits are habits; they're difficult to interrupt. My calculator brain revs up every time I'm in a money-spending situation, and there's no real way to avoid that. I will always pick the least expensive menu item at a restaurant, and I will always attempt to figure out the maximum value I can extract from a gift card at a retail store. I feel physically strained when I have to spend money that I know isn't necessary. I've learned to train myself to accept the periodic splurge -- say, a donation, a meal out, or a vacation. I've learned that it's okay to buy full-priced items sometimes. I'm not convinced, however, that I'll ever be able to fully train my brain to shift out of its Depression-era setting, and frankly, it's not clear that I should want to. The downsides and upsides tend to counteract each other.
...
Honestly, I had no real reason for authoring this post, other than the fact that I realized that I'd never explicitly written about this before. Considering the amount of cortex space that this topic takes up in my brain -- it seemed like it was time.
Yes ... you were well trained :)
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