So I Have This Friend (or, on mooching)

What do you do when, say, a friend comes to visit and suggests you go to THAT restaurant with the amazing food and the great atmosphere, the one that makes delicious food but hits your wallet big-time? Then, say, this friend orders an entree and drinks and more drinks and a side of this and a bit of that, laughing it up and saying how good it all is, only to say, when the bill comes, that she can’t cover it?

You only ordered something small, because, well, you’re on a budget after all. And your friend says something about how she doesn’t make much money and it’s hard to find good work and you know? Maybe you can help her out?

This happens to me sometimes. Not frequently, and not with a lot of people. But with some people very frequently, in fact with one particular person all the time. I’ll know I can spend $10, so I’ll order something small; Friend knows she has $10 in her wallet but orders something big, knowing I can help her, if it comes to that.

I don’t mind giving to my friends; in fact, I believe in it. But maybe there’s some kind of line we can cross with giving. Maybe at some point, giving becomes excusing? Maybe at some point, my “sure, here’s another $10″ becomes “you don’t have to be responsible for what you do”?

This same friend has been looking for a better job, on and off, for almost a year. She makes $8 now, so, yeah, she doesn’t have much money. So what do I do? I offer to help her with her resume, thinking that this could help her get a better job, help her make better money. I spend three hours one Friday night beefing it up and reorganizing and formatting, etc. I send it to her and say, voila! like she’ll fall over herself gushing with praise. She doesn’t respond. She never says if she’ll use it.

The truth is, she never asked me to look at her resume. It was my idea, my plan to help her get in a better financial situation. In other words, it’s what I’d want someone to do for me. Just like I’d want someone to help me if I needed money, though, to be honest, I’d never, ever, not-in-a-million-years order something I knew I didn’t have the money for. I wish someone had helped me make a resume when I was frustrated, desperate for a job. I wish someone had given me advice and guidance to getting the right position. I wish someone would help me when I feel like I need it.

But do I wish that only because I’m looking back? I mean, if I hadn’t done anything, would that have meant I needed help that no one gave or that I didn’t want it (the jobs/resumes/whatever) enough?

What do you think? Can you give too much to your friends? Is there a way to know if you can? And how do you train yourself to stop helping people who don’t want you to? How do you love them enough to say, You can do it yourself? How do you love them enough to say, Sure, I’ll pay for it again?

Image: cedric1981

Introducing… the College Money Network!

I’m thrilled to announce to you the launch of a brand-new PF network, set around the theme of money and college. There are six members (including yours truly), and we are college students, grad students or recent grads.

The College Money Network is a place where we’ll pool our information, giving you the best content we can, all about money, school and being a 20-something in the midst of it all.

Here are the other members (you’ll also notice a list on my sidebar):

• Broke-Ass Student || http://www.brokeass-student.com
• Broke Grad Student || http://www.brokegradstudent.com/
• Green Panda Treehouse || http://www.greenpandatreehouse.com/
• MFA or Bust || http://mfaorbust.blogspot.com/
• Poorer Than You || http://poorerthanyou.com/

On Loaning Friends Money (or, I’d rather give)

True story: A couple years ago, someone I know asked someone else I know (let’s say persons A & B) for a favor. Desperate, tears running down his face, A asked B for $20,000+ to help finish his new home and to cover unexpected medical costs for his child.

B loaned him the money.

Weeks went by. Months. Then a big problem: Lender B’s home business was facing some problems, and he needed that $20K back.

He went to A; A didn’t have it and didn’t know when he would. Bigger problem. B wanted his money; A couldn’t believe B didn’t understand. Suddenly, what had been a good friendship became tense, awkward and stressful.

The good news is that this worked out, sort of. A ended up taking out a home equity line of credit to consolidate all of his many debts into one (same money, but one place owed). He paid back B just in time. The bad news is that their friendship was never the same.

I could tell you a lot of stories like this; you probably could, too. Somehow, when money gets involved, things can get ugly fast, even between good friends. I’ve always thought this, way in the back of my mind. I’ve always felt a little uneasy about the idea of loaning friends money.

When I was reading Total Money Makeover, Dave Ramsey pointed out the Biblical principle at work here: Proverbs 22:7 The rich rules over the poor, and the borrower is the slave of the lender.

Essentially, when you loan someone money, you change the dynamics of peer-to-peer friendship. Now you are one who loaned and one who owes. And that makes things complicated.

In fact, in Hamlet, Shakespeare writes something similar: “Neither a borrower nor a lender be. For loan oft loses both itself and friend…”

So here’s my personal philosophy: If my friend comes to me, needing money, and it’s a real need, I will give–no strings attached–what I can. They can think it’s a loan if they want to, but I’m giving it as a gift–no interest and no payment expected. If I’m unable to give them the money, I can offer to do anything else to help. But I won’t lend.

If I, say, go out to eat with my friend, and she asks me to lend her what she’s owes, I will. But I’ll just give it to her. I’ll tell her, don’t worry about it. If she pays me back, fine. If she doesn’t, it was a gift.

And, if at the end of my life, I’ve paid for more friends’ meals than I’ve been given, if I’ve given more money than I’ve received, if I’ve been the sucker as some would say, I’ll consider it a good life, indeed.

Image: aldoaldoz

Do People Go into Debt for Wedding Rings?

My out-of-town friend this weekend, in passing, was telling me about her future diamond. “I don’t care if he has to go into debt for it,” she said. “It better be big!”

I laughed, and told her that she better be joking. She was joking, right? She just laughed.

This is something I’ve never even heard in passing, the idea of taking out a loan to pay for an engagement ring. I guess anything’s possible, especially in debt-filled America, but seriously: Do people actually go into debt for wedding rings? Do you know anyone who did?

In which she digresses, again.

My little brother is graduating from college. He’s doing everything smarter than I did, gaining a degree in a reputable field, finishing summa cum laude, happy to take off a month before worrying about getting his job.

He’s just so, smart. And I’m proud of him.

I think, if the world had more of kids like him finishing college, the world would be a lot nicer place.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do next, not in the five-step-plan kind of way. But he knows what he likes and doesn’t like and he knows, in his way, what that means. I think he can do anything, sky’s the limit.

I am not going to a wedding this morning.

A few months ago, I made a command decision: if I don’t know someone (i.e., if I ran into them, I’d feel weird going over and saying hi), I don’t have to go to their weddings/baby showers/graduation parties. It’s the time of year for that sort of thing, and, especially when you travel in my particular circles, you get invited to a lot of things, even for people you don’t know. I have gone to my fair share of stranger-parties, and sure, I’ve survived. But I’ve not enjoyed them, and I don’t think the people of honor even knew I was there or cared.

So, last weekend, I didn’t go to the graduation party of a high-schooler I’ve never spoken with, even though her parents seem nice. At the end of the month, I’m not going to the baby shower of the girl whose bridal shower and wedding I’ve already attended but haven’t talked with her since. And today, I’m not going to the wedding of the couple I know nothing about, save from some random Facebook updates.

It’s nothing personal, and it’s not about the money. I’m even sending a gift to the newlyweds. My brother and I went to Target last night, and we split the approximately $30 cost of a Brita water pitcher, which he’s taking to the wedding, seeing as he went to elementary/high school with the bride. I feel $15 is fair for an acquaintance’s wedding gift. (Side note: cost to me was actually $9, thank you bank-reward gift cards)

It’s just: with our society’s big, big parties and invite-everyone-you-ever-knew gatherings, I get invited to things, probably out a sense of obligation from someone. They’re inviting my brother or my parents or my co-worker, so they feel they should invite me, too, so I’m not hurt. And that’s kind. But it’s always kind of awkward for me–how many receiving lines can you go through saying, You look beautiful! Great wedding! as they smile at you, wondering what your name is. (OK, maybe exaggerating, but not by a lot.)

When I have a party or if I ever get married or have a baby shower, I’d like to just have the people I love that love me. It may be a smaller group–no 2000-person guest lists, as my random cousin is apparently choosing later this year for her wedding–and there won’t be as many gifts, but, in my opinion, that’s perfectly fine.

what’s on my mind today

The nicest man I work with, the one who treats everyone with respect and fast became my all-around favorite 60-something, is having major surgery today. Major, major surgery. And I know he’s scared.

I hadn’t seen him around lately, and I thought his performance had been down and maybe he’d been let go. Apparently I was half-right. He was let go, in a way, but he also is having serious health concerns, with an aneurysm last week.

If you pray, would you pray for him today? I’ll try to post an update when I hear news. Times like these, I have to admit it’s hard to care much about the little nitty-gritty day-to-day work stuff I have to do. It’s hard to think it’s that important, other than the principles of work ethic and earning a living, etc.

At the end of my life, or at a time when I know it could be the end, I doubt most of my work stuff will matter, save for the relationships and the ways it mattered to those relationships. The ridiculously out-of-proportion responses I see in business to things that are kind of trivial (i.e., money, the making of it, the spending of it) will be just shadows.

On Fixing my Car and, Loving my Dad

Tonight, while driving home from work, my windows down and my radio playing, I realized my car was putting out a strong burning smell: the kind an older car has when its converters or mechanisms aren’t up to the latest environmentally friendly standards. Scorching chemicals, that’s what it smelled like, assaulting the air around me.

Thing is, my car is a 2001 Volkswagon Jetta TDI (diesel), not a 1974 beater. And it’s been in the shop three times in the past month, for this same burning smell, for a check engine light, for revving too fast when driving low speeds. Each time, the mechanics told us the same thing: we tested everything, and nothing’s wrong.

When I got home, my dad called the dealership where we take my car, and they agreed to look at it ASAP. Any plans I had for the evening were out–coffee with a friend, catching up on some e-mails, leisurely relaxing at home. Dad drove Jetta; I drove a family car. Dealership said they’ll keep it for a few days, and hopefully they’ll figure it out.

Possibilities? The catalytic converter ($1200 expense). This is what I hope it is, because VW is actually replacing these at no charge because of some faulty manufacturing. Something else (unknown cost). This concerns me because it could be anything (or “nothing”).

Dad hard-balled with the customer service lady, telling her we’re (he’s) not paying them to fix what they should’ve found in the very beginning. This is a waste of time, of energy, etc. She seemed unsympathetic, but I know Dad.

As cliche as this all is, is times like these I think how thankful I am for my dad. He’s given up three full days of his time already, taking my car in and waiting for them to fix it. And no matter how many times I’ve asked him to give me the bills (!), he won’t let me pay for it.

On top of everything else he’s given me, from braces to college education to 25 years of love, he sacrifices his time and energy to help me when I need him. I know a lot of people say parents spoil their children by giving them so much, and maybe that’s true. But, speaking as the one who’s received again and again, I am nothing but thankful.

Giving Words

I was given two thank-you notes this past week, one personal and one professional. The personal one was handwritten by my best friend, after her family visited, and the other, by the professor who invited me to speak in his class. Totally different people, totally different relationships with me, but one thing in common: kind and encouraging.

What do you think: Why is it that a well-thought-out thank-you note can make someone feel so good? And, why is it, even when we know this about the power of kind words (giving words), we are so slow to take time to write them?

On the Thing That Has Nothing to Do with Money

My best friend and her family drove down Friday. Their son, 18 months old, threw up after they’d left their house–all over his seat, the car, himself. So they turned back, cleaned him, cleaned the car, cleaned the seat, repacked, restarted. Five-and-a-half long hours plus one. The directions, which I’d e-mailed her in a hurry, didn’t account for construction, so they ended up an extra hour out of their way. Five-and-a-half long hours plus one plus two.

5 PM, Friday. A little growing family walking up to my house. Their son has her eyes–crystal blue with the longest, darkest lashes you’ve ever seen and the roundest, sweetest cheeks. We hug. Son meets my dog, family sees my family, we go get dinner.

I haven’t seen them for a year–one whole year. When Son was just six months old, not walking, not talking, not playing with his new giraffe truck or throwing chew toys for the dog. I love them. Love her, who was my instant friend when we were roommates almost seven years ago. Love him, who is her match in every way–kind and patient, hard-working and strong. Love their son, who is not only beautiful but to me perfect–perfect in the way that only your best friend’s first child can be.

Funny things happen when you see old friends, especially old friends that you don’t get to see often. You remember them, you remember yourself with them. And, this is important, you see yourself now in terms of how it compares with you then, as they knew you.

I’m not where I thought I would be by now. And I don’t even mean the living-at-home thing or the working-in-my-industry thing. I’m just, not.

I want to make decisions that I know will be the right ones. And when I think of things that I just know are right–when I’m being as deep-down honest with myself as I can be–I think I want to do something for someone else.

What does this mean, exactly?

The best answer I can come up with is simple but vague: loving. I want to be a true, honest-to-goodness lover to the people I know. I want to sacrifice in ways that are uncomfortable and not immediately rewarding. I want to invest in more than the stock market–in people, which are the only things that really matter. I want to remember, when I think I need more money, when I want something I can’t have, when I’m discouraged: true joy isn’t in things, no matter how beautiful or wonderful they are.

It’s in relationships.

Because when I have friends who will spend seven-and-a-half hours in a compact car with their little son to see me, who will drive through the night the next day and arrive at home by 2 AM, who will value me because of things that have nothing to do with my job or my money or my goals, I feel really, truly, remarkably blessed.