FRUGALICIOUS

I was recently reading a book or perhaps I may have been writing a short story. No, I was definitely working on that new song for my band when someone inquired via email if Fates On Fire is, in fact, a “real FIRE” blog as I rarely, if ever, discuss money. My gentle response was “Of course, only a bit different than you may have envisioned” and kindly referred them to my original article.

Frankly, I find it rather gauche to be rabbiting on incessantly about money. And for the record, I just went nearly full-frontal last November revealing my discretionary spending, thank you very much. However, the timing of this email happened to be somewhat fortuitous in that it intersected with a recent conversation I had with a friend regarding the always hot topic of frugality. So, I figured I’d use this opportunity to share the underpinnings of my so-called frugal life.

Ah, frugality, the quintessential bread and butter of the Personal Finance/FIRE writer. Anyone reading this is aware that there exists zillions upon zillions of sites and articles dedicated to this very heady subject, generally positing that frugality is the key, the very linchpin, to financial betterment & independence and can open the gates to one’s very early retirement. And you know what? I happen to agree.

Since the above-referenced folks do their frugal-centric thing, and do it well, there’s little point in me unlocking the mystery of saving three cents on a roll of toilet paper or to help you pare your egregious annual spending down to a more parsimonious, reasonable number. I’ll leave that to the pros. Anyway, we’re not in the business of proffering advice around here. Nope, instead I’ll just share what makes me “frugalicious” and you can do with it what you will.

While I won’t ever disparage frugal tactics (since they happen to be very effective), throughout my life, I have been far more focused on the underlying tenants of frugality – the philosophic, cerebral and, psychological models that, once I inculcated, transformed me into the financially sagacious dude I am today. So, in no particular order, let’s examine what I consider the foundations of my frugality.

I ENJOY MAKING MONEY INFINITELY MORE THAN SPENDING IT

Just like my inability to engage in mentally passive activity, I’m fairly certain my enjoyment of making, rather than spending, money is a result of some factory defect. I cannot explain why I have that same full-body thrill when I make money that Jennifer Aniston does after maxing her AmEx Black at the Manolo Blahnik boutique. I just do. However, I honestly believe that most humans feel the same way. When asked, “Would you rather have me place $100 or remove $100 from your pocket?” to any reasonable human, the resounding response would be for the later. However, most of us do not behave that way. And that’s absolutely, perfectly fine.

As a result of the aforementioned defect, I view money, principally, as a vehicle to create more of itself. Kind of like the Tribbles in that old Star Trek episode. Each year, these little guys can, on average, throw off about eight cents or so! In less than 10 years, they clone themselves and continue in perpetuity to breed like mad. Which is a pretty fascinating concept to me. On the downside, of course, every time I spend one of these guys, they not only stop breeding, but also vanish entirely.

That said, I tend to give a good deal of thought of putting something that creates money out of commission before I do. I certainly recognize that I will have to consistently do this, but I pause to think it through prior to doing so. And, no, I don’t have Scrooge McDuck-like fantasies of rolling in vast heaps of coinage (yuck), but I do enjoy watching them multiply and like to believe that, one day, they can go toward helping save the lives of others. All that said, I just prefer making rather than spending, so that’s a core part of my frugalicious me.

I AM NOT A MATERIAL BOY

Simply put, I am not a material boy. This likely explains the reason why my matrimony with Madonna never quite panned out. For whatever reason I was never big into “stuff” (another factory defect?). I’ve had plenty of wonderful material objects in my life and have enjoyed them a good deal. But, at my core, I’m just not a materialist. Excess ain’t my bag, baby and I’m overjoyed with having a fairly simple, spartan accumulation of physical things in my life.

The enchantment of “The Shiny,” for whatever reason, seems to have little sway with me. I stumbled on the fact, early on in life, that stuff does not necessarily make one happier and it, certainly, does not make one better. In fact, having oodles of stuff actually provokes a mild fear in me. Like that old Palahniuk quote of, “The stuff you own will end up owning you.” Anyway, not lusting after material things on any sort of frequent basis certainly helps bolster the pillars of frugality.

THE JONESES? I DON’T KNOW ‘EM

Another frequently discussed aspect of materialism and spending is the notion of “keeping up with the Joneses.” Everyone lasciviously ogling and coveting each other’s material assets, lifestyle, etc. While I’ll concede that a central aspect of human nature is comparison, it’s also exceedingly easy to get more than a little nuts with all of this and debtify one’s self to an early grave. It really must be terrifyingly painful to be on constant “comparative vigilance” and then sweat beads of pure angst to contrive how to fund the “keeping up-ness” or, even more horrifying, “the outdoing-ness.” That must, honestly, be a severely difficult way to spend your life.

Unlike, the prior mentioned aspects of my frugalition, I know precisely where my derision of “Jonesism” comes from: punk rock. While I’ll explore this more deeply at a later date, my core tenants of healthy levels of social rebellion, lack of total conformity, questioning and/or eschewing “the script” and, for better or worse, doing things on my own terms developed in early adolescence as I embraced a punk ethos. I don’t know the Joneses, I don’t care about the Joneses and, as a young, less mature man, likely, wrote songs about “de-Jonesifying” them altogether. Anywho, when the only perceived competition is one’s self, it creates focus while obviating external distractions, like those pesky Joneses.

I DON’T HAVE ANY MONEY

I’ll definitely say to anyone who has severe difficultly managing expenses or is just under-sophisticated with money in general to get a budget. They are a somewhat decent place to start and can be, in the contemporary nomenclature, a good “safe space.” That is, an artificial, temporary mechanism to remove one’s self from perceived chaos and cruelty. Stay in this “budget space” as long as you need, but know there is more and better out there.

Notwithstanding the above, I abhor budgets largely because they integrate the most lamentable aspects of human psychology. Specifically meaning, when someone has “budgeted” something it then, commonly, becomes a tacit permission to spend it. For example, near the end of the month: “Oh, I only spent $500 on golfing this month and I budgeted $1000. I’d better get out tomorrow and spend the rest of that $500.” An astute frugalteer would have recognized a $500 boon. Anyone else? I guess they would have had a nice day on the links.

Levity aside, the most powerful component of my frugaliciousness is simply a stalwart, unerring belief in artificial scarcity. Financially, this means I consistently operate from a self-conjured delusion that I have absolutely no money, irrespective of my actual financial status. There are dozens of exceptional articles out there on artificial scarcity, so no need to belabor them here.

However, because of this, my personal budget for any increment of time is $0. Anything over that is officially “over budget.” Apologies, I take that back. My ideal budget is negative – meaning where I make money in each transaction. The grocery store pays me for taking groceries, the electric company pays me to use as much juice as possible, etc. Of course, this never happens, but that is the mental position in which I approach every transaction. How much are you going to pay me for this item/service of yours? It’s a slightly different, yet profoundly more powerful psychological approach to the standard budget concept.

I can hear the snickers, but I’ve used this to advantage my entire life. For example, I’ve always gotten insane, unheard of deals when buying big ticket items like houses or cars where the sales people are well aware of how to use your “budget” against you. The savvy salesperson will always ask me, “What’s your budget.” My response is always, “Zero. I don’t have a budget. Ideally, I’d like you to to pay me to take this car off your hands.” The response is antithetical to the sales pitch psychology and they tend to lose their footing altogether, thus allowing you to negotiate from a far better position. At least it has for me as I’ve saved hundreds of thousands of dollars thus far with the concept of artificial scarcity.

KNOW THE PRICE & VALUE OF EVERYTHING

Unlike Oscar Wilde’s cynic who “knows the price of everything and the value of nothing,” I embrace the notion of “know the price and value of everything.” For me that means knowing where to save and where and when not to cheap-out. I never considered frugality a mechanism for deprivation and needless sacrifice. Saving only means deferred spending, so know when it’s time to spend and on what.

In fact, there are times where spending at a premium is always the best move. Examples might include the roof on your house, lawyers, cosmetic surgeons (or any surgeon, actually). Better examples would be making the dreams of your loved ones come true or helping those in need. That sort of thing. ROI on money is good, but an ROI on love is the best thing ever.

HOW ABOUT YOU?

What makes you frugalicious? Do you have any of the above foundations? Something different or similar that works great? As always, I’d love to hear from you.