Examined Lives

Getting into the holiday spirit ...

... has been challenging these days. I don't know about you, but life feels over-full, and not always in a good way, on our end. 

The good: A Thanksgiving made very happy by visits from family. We were packed like sardines in our apartment, but feeling lucky to reconnect. Also, happy, sassy kids still blissfully unaware of the world's woes. And jobs. We are grateful, indeed.

The bad: CityDad has had a pay cut this year, and freelance jobs that supplemented our steady incomes are sparser. A few friends are facing health challenges; one's negotiating a divorce. And with the teetering economy still malingering like a bad guest who knows no better, it's gotten so overwhelming for so many.   Maybe that's why movies like Up in the Air, which, among many other plots, chronicles the travails of the laid-off and disenfranchised, are hitting home among critics and viewers. (I saw it; it's phenomenal.)

 

But those are actors, and there's nothing like hearing how it is from those in the trenches right now. The New York Times has collected videos from ten Americans who've been laid off and they are stunningly affecting. Just watch. The cost that this recession has exacted is palpable. Never mind figuring out how to pay for presents this year; one father speaks of watching his kids playing sports and, instead of just enjoying himself, praying they don't get injured because there's not much more they can do without insurance but put a band-aid or duct tape on it.

So what to do now? Not really sure. We're 10 days away from Christmas, and maybe the only thing to do is to put one foot in front of another and, in the words of a singing teacher I met years ago, "show up." Who knows? There may be a party, not another trying encounter, just around the corner. We all could use a party.

—CityMom

 

How big corporations are gouging us ...

I realize the headline's overselling my tiny post, but it's seriously what I thought after reading this little piece of news from the New York Times' David Pogue (aka big-time tech journalist). It seems At&T has caved into customers' demands to get rid of that anachronistic advice at the tail end of outgoing voicemail messages: “To page this person, press five now.” Apparently, it cuts that pitch down from 12-to-15 seconds to 8. 

On the face of it, one would wonder—okay, I wondered—what's the big deal? Then like a cartoon lightbulb switching on over dimwitted me, I realized: Wow, that extends the time a person spends on the phone, and given how many millions of subscribers they have, and how many calls they get that go into voicemail—AT&T must have raked in the bucks from that extra four-to-seven seconds!

Writes Pogue: "Wheels are turning at T-Mobile on this issue. Sprint already lets you eliminate the entire recording. Verizon, characteristically, refuses to respond."

It made me wonder, though: How else am I getting gouged?

How about:

• those extra charges that seem to pad every utility bill?

• those weighing scales for produce that, if you looked, appear to start at 1/4 pound?

• Metrocards that don't evenly give you a certain number of rides for a whole amount, so that you're left with cards that have extra an extra 25 cents on them when the fare is 10 times that? 

The things that make you go, hmm ...

—CityMom

What your health care is costing me

I'm in turtle mode again, avoiding the media, because I just can't watch how the current health care reform is playing out.  It's just too painful.  And enraging.

I beg your patience while I elaborate. The Dude and I pay $751.38 each month for a health care plan that doesn't cover drugs. I don't have the option of a high-deductible health plan with a health-care savings account, because it just doesn't exist in this state. Too expensive for the insurers, one agent told me; too many sick people in the system already, draining it before the likes of me could have hopped on board.

Here's the kicker: We could reduce our premium to some $530 per month, with far more comprehensive coverage, if we were a small business. If I joined The Dude's payroll, instead of being my own little profit center.  Nice, right?  Individuals suck.  Businesses rule.  Have a nice life! 

Meanwhile, that $751.38 of after-tax money keeps flying out the door every month.  Every month. While lawmakers fiddle, special interests fawn and some folks who just like things to stay messy tell endless lies.

What if I get cancer?  Chemo, out of pocket. There's something to worry about when you can't sleep at 3 a.m. I know I do!  And this is for 3:30 a.m.: How is my Dad going to pay for the assisted living facility my Mom will eventually need -- as nearly all dementia patients eventually do?  He embodies the American Dream; from humble beginning, studied and worked hard during his life; he saved; he paid off all his damn mortgages and debts...for what?  To be bankrupted by an increasingly common condition?

And hey, we're the lucky ones. The uninsured muddle along, straggling to the emergency room if they get really sick, where the costs go...back to us. That's right; there are only so many hospitals and insurers and Medicaids out there.  When dollars get racked up somewhere, by someone, we all pay.  Hence my post title.

How did we get here? Watch that knee jerk; it's not necessarily Big Pharma that's the problem. Perhaps it's doctors who order an MRI for a stomach pain and we who go ahead and get the test. It's people like one of my babysitters, who gets an expensive endoscopy every year to monitor her acid reflux, but who refuses to give up her coffee and diet soda, which are big contributing factors to that condition, as she well knows.

Having lived in Europe and enjoyed the efficient, spotless and inexpensive health care there, suggest we turn our eyes across the pond as we hiss and claw our way toward a solution. If we ever get there. Oh, and that horrible Canadian system some are using as proof positive that national health systems don't work?  Canadians love it.

~BurbMom

This economy we're in

Finally myself completely engrossed in this fantastic New Yorker article yesterday. It's about the economy and how we found ourselves in this predicament we're in. The article's not online, just an abstract, but I heartily recommend running to your newstand to buy a May 18 issue. It's probably one of the most comprehensive and insightful articles I've ever read on the subject. And one that really takes not just the bankers and the stockbrokers to task but everybody else, too, even us, for ignoring signs that were plainly there: Stories about how our nation barely saves but spends a lot; people with very little income buying houses to flip; our own mounting personal debt. 

"Some have compared it to Hurricane Katrina, but Katrina occurred suddenly and all was aftermath," writes the author, Nick Paumgarten. "In this case, it's as though the levees failed everyday. We stay on the porch, carrying on with our card game, in water up to our necks." (Can I just say, that is one beautifully written sentence?)

I was getting a little worried at what appeared (to me) to be optimistic news coverage last week about retailers possibly being on the upward swing again because more people went shopping. Don't get me wrong—I'm glad for any business to see an upswing. But by most accounts, the situation is still quite dire, and it seems to me that some are trying to spin any uptick in the stock market as reason to think the worst is over. (As if day-to-day fluctuations in the stock market was an accurate barometer of the economy, scoffed a friend of mind the other day.) 

I'm as eager for good news as the next person, but let's not put the blinders on again. The indicators are still a long way off. Way off, in fact. Per Reuters, the Federal Reserve isn't so sure recovery is nigh. What we need, what we should believe, are months of solid, consistent improvement that we can touch, measure, feel. I'm as sick of the bad news as the next person, but I don't want to be a sucker again, thinking the levees are shored up when failure is right around the corner. 

—CityMom

(Photo from the NewYorker.com.)

The end of shopping as we know it, part two

At least two authors of op-ed pieces in Sunday's Times covered the end of shopping as we know it, which delighted me no end, as I have had many vehement conversations on this topic with CityMom and my friend L. (who gets particularly steamed up about planned obsolescence).

Tom Friedman talked about how the endless cycle of making-buying-throwing away-buying again crap just is not sustainable ecologically, as the world's resources are so indubitably finite.  He's talked about this before, but as we very well could be seeing the end of capitalism as we know it, the two dovetail nicely in this new column. 

I've said for a while that pure capitalism isn't sustainable, and been called a freak (even though that bald fact is nothing new), so it's nice to have company here. But Friedman never went into the nitty gritty details of how pared-down consumerism might look, probably because his own lifestyle is more is more rather than just say no.

The other op-ed, "Cushioning the Blow," got it. In this one, the writer (Marc Fitten) talked about the absurdity of a $30 throw pillow ($30 after a steep discount) and an economy that would have such a profligacy of expensive throw pillows in the first place:

"And there’s the rub: credit is dead and rich ladies don’t grow on trees. And how many times a year did the rich ladies of Atlanta ever need to buy a pillow anyway? It was impossible for the finite number of wealthy housewives of Atlanta to keep the pillow industry afloat. Why would a company speculate and order more and more seasonal pillows when they knew they would never sell them? How could everyone supporting this system, from the foam manufacturer to the seamstress to the salesperson, think this great big pillow shuffle would last? For this kind of system to be sustainable, a society would either have to make more rich ladies or fewer pillows."

This guy knows that it comes down to saying:  Hell, no, I don't need a throw pillow in the first place, let alone another one, and certainly not one that costs $30.

~BurbMom

Photo: Crate and Barrel jungle pillow, $59.95

Tuition: To pay or not to pay?

That is the question for many families these days, according to the New York Times. Strapped with ever-shrinking household budgets, they're having to make what sometimes feels like Sophie's Choice: Pay the mortgage or the private school tuition? 

Before you scoff and say it sounds like having to decide to make do without a luxury—public schools are an option—hear this: Experts say "of the more than three million families with at least one child in private school, according to the 2005 census, almost two million of them have a household income of less than $100,000. According to a Department of Education survey, in 2003-4, the median annual tuition of nonsectarian schools was $8,200; for Catholic schools, $3,000." Basically, private school—which, for the purposes of this article includes parochial/religious schools—is a necessity. 

My parents valued education above all else, and for them it meant sending us to private schools that offered what they thought were the best learning experiences. (The public schools were lousy in our area.) They sacrificed in other ways—no decadent family vacations, no summer camps—to make it work. I will forever be grateful for what they gave me. I can't imagine them giving our schools up.

Clearly, it would help a lot if neighborhood schools were uniformly impressive. But too often in too many places, they're not. (That's a public policy argument for another day.) So what then? It's a dilemma of Shakespearean proportions ...

—CityMom

(Photo—plus info about choosing the right school—from HappyNews.com.)

Living in NYC on $500,000

Fact: It makes sense that banks being bailed out not indulge in what one paper describes as "rampant CEO pay." The public's outraged enough over Wall Street bonuses, and on principle, the idea seems sound.

Fact: But I can understand the argument that imposing a $500,000 cap on senior executives at banks getting government help may make it difficult to find real talent to fill those roles. Naysayers say now more than ever, banking needs the heavy-hitters—those who have the ability and the commitment to work long hours to get their institutions on an even keel again—and that if they're not compensated accordingly, they'll probably find work in other industries. 

Can you hear me ping-ponging between both sides of the argument? 

I'm not ambivalent about one thing, though: Stories like this one in the Sunday New York Times, which breaks down how "difficult" it would be to live in New York City on $500,000 won't elevate the conversation. It certainly won't dispel the myth that it takes that much to be comfortable in the city. (Can I just say how SICK I am of this myth?) Here's how the paper breaks down the cost of living expenses, which don't appear to be doable with an after-tax take-home of $270,000:

• Private school: $32,000 a year per student. 
• Mortgage for a (nice) three-bedroom co-op: $96,000 a year. 
• Co-op maintenance fee: $96,000 a year. 
• Nanny: $45,000 a year.
• Annual mortgage payments for a house in Southampton: $240,000.
• At least three ball gowns for attending high-profile events: $35,000.
• Groceries: $15,000
• plus driver, trainer, $8.50 frozen hot chocolates at Seredipity, etc ...

That these figures are accurate, I won't dispute. But accurate for what? I know plenty of families, mine included—and yes, some of these families have two, three kids, even—who live just fine in the city on a half or even a fourth of the proposed salary cap. Yes, even in Manhattan. They probably live in a two-bedroom with the kids sharing a room. The kids attend public school—there are so many good ones scattered all over the boroughs—and have the occasional babysitter pick them up in the afternoons (if that). They spend $3000 less on groceries per year and still eat well. And no, they don't "summer" in Southampton, nor do their mothers spend $15,000 on three dresses. 

These parents, by the way, aren't any less intelligent/capable than bank's CEOs, and sometimes their jobs are even more stressful. They're emergency room doctors, cops, hospital shrinks, physics professors, editors, Broadway actors, computer geniuses and lawyers. Some are even bankers (not high up but good at what they do, nevertheless). Yet they live perfectly well on much less than the proposed cap. 

So here's a suggested budget for future $500,000 bank CEOs. There's even room for the occasional $8.50 frozen hot chocolate, theater tickets, restaurant outings and other city splurges, plus a nice chunk of retirement change to sock away:

• Mortgage for an Upper East Side (non-Park Avenue) two-bedroom (with dining room convertible to a third bedroom): $66,000 a year.
• Co-op maintenance fee: $36,000 a year.
• Public school: FREE.
• Afterschool classes and occasional babysitters: $12000 a year.
• Annual two-week rental for a three-bedroom house in Sag Harbor: $10,000.

• Three gowns for high-profile events: $2250 ($750 apiece if you shop smartly and don't buy couture; this floor-length Nanette Lepore dress, for instance, costs $695 at Shopbop.com.)
• Groceries: $12,000 (generous, but not outrageous for family of 5).
• Monthly Metrocards: $81 per person per month.

So is the $500,000 cap really that much of a sacrifice? A lifestyle change, definitely. But from where I'm sitting, that's still living large.

—CityMom

Why the recession has spoiled shopping forever

Pundits have already started wondering how long it will take Americans to get stupid after we emerge, someday, from our depressing recession.  Stupid meaning spending beyond our means, particularly on non-essential consumer junk.  Forgetting how hard it hurts when gas prices here are, oh, maybe 3/4 as high as they are in other industrialized countries. Hey, we've already started buying SUVs again.  Truly, it boggles the mind.

I'm a shopper.  Let's just get that out into the open. I have not the handy and admirable virtue, like CityMom, of being frugal, excessive or not.  But I have cut down over the years, both because of competing monetary priorities, because quality over quantity is better for the planet, and because I'm irrationally picky, particularly about clothing (No pockets, except for jeans. But no blue jeans; only black or navy. No frills. No rounded necklines; v-neck only. No leather, as far as possible. It's exhausting.).

But shopping just sucks these days. It's scary to spend money at all, for one, and I don't think I'll forget these days.  Even after our economy rights itself, I can't see going back to my old spendiness.  Plus, I'm far too used to getting the deal to pay full price anymore.  Less than 35% off?  Nah.  Pay for shipping?  You gotta be kidding!

It also looks like the chain retailers have just stopped trying. At Banana Republic yesterday, the racks were crammed haphazardly; the spring lines - that tired nautical theme again - already marked down. I noticed for the first time the garish colors and ill-considered designs of the clothing. When we turn the spotlight more fully on our potential purchases, they're revealed as the crap they really are. "Go ahead, take two" one sign over piles of nondescript denim pants read. Two?  Good heavens, why?  I headed for the door. Sears was even more dismal, its bland items hanging limply and so cheap -- a Land's End parka for twenty-something bucks -- that they turned me off completely. If it's that cheap, it must not have been worth buying in the first place.

Over at J.Crew, the merchandise was still fetching and thoughtfully arranged; the salespeople still helpful. But $98 for a denim skirt? I might have rolled over in the past, if the item was a classic and absolutely perfect in every respect. But now I know that if I sit tight it will be marked down very soon.

I do worry that those purveyors of good-quality, reasonably priced items (like Hanna Andersson clothing for kids) will perish.  I'd like to help them out.  But I just can't bring myself to buy.

~BurbMom

Are you an extreme frugalista?

So I'd been doing pretty well scalping off any extra fat from our household budget; these economic times, after all, call for financial plastic surgery. I managed to resist clicking on spam flooding my email box about gigantic sales; the department store coupons went straight to the recycling; the store windows in my neighborhood had gone unnoticed. That is, until my oldest and I found ourselves at an Aldo's of all places—not a place I'd ever bought anything from—struck by a particularly fine pair of black leather pumps. 

Now, mind you, I'm not a black-leather-pumps kind of girl. I have a serviceable pair from my grad school years (bought 14 years ago!), and a "fancier" one I got last year to wear at a wedding only because the grad school one wasn't dressy enough. I haven't bought another pair mainly because my job doesn't really require me to dress up that often, and heels to me are "dress-up" shoes. But another reason I haven't bought a pair is because I just couldn't bring myself to spend the money; good quality shoes almost always seemed to run at least $100, if not more.

We ducked into Aldo's because it had started raining; why we didn't slip into a bookstore instead, I'll never know. (Maybe it would've been worse; books are my weakness.) Anyway, before I knew it, there I was staring at a pointy-toed pair marked down to a stunning $49. I tried it on and it was soft, like comfy-soft. Buttah-soft. Buy-me soft. And I almost did. I really did. I could feel the resolve in me dissolving. 

But I didn't. Only now I'm still thinking about those shoes. I'm the first to say now's not the time for fun purchases like shoes and handbags, but here's my question? What if those fun purchases are so much more affordable now? Because they are. With all those sales going on, they're practically free. (Okay, maybe not free, but 2003-prices free.) 

I'm not advocating going on a spree; it's been so long since I've done that I wouldn't know how to define one. (Buying a shirt and a pair of pants the same day is a spree for me.) Truth is, though, my black leather pumps are way old and they show it. I've resoled them once already. But I'd feel so guilty buying heels now. Life, we all know, is tough! So tough all I want to do is pad myself with a monetary cushion.

But my husband thinks I'm taking frugality to a whole new level, that sometimes you just have to buy stuff. We may not need these fun purchases like we do food, but sometimes we could use them. That is, if my go-to pair of black heels are 12 years old, maybe it's time to replace them. Besides, he adds, it's not like I'm running up credit card debt to do so. And it helps the economy, right?

BetterBudgeting.com has a checklist of questions to ask yourself if you're contemplating a purchase and can't make up your mind. I wish checklists worked for me, but my guilt complex is far too strong.

So tell me: Should I buy the shoes? 

—CityMom

(Photo from Aldoshoes.com.)

Traditional families adjust to unemployment

With unemployment numbers now breaking 7 percent—7.2 percent to be exact, according to figures released last week; it's a 15-year high, per MSNBC.com—more families than ever are having to adjust to the new world order.  

It's tough going for all families, for obvious and not-so-obvious reasons. But this New York Times article explores what takes place in traditional homes:

It’s not only the high-flying income and the attendant abundance that have evaporated. For many couples, it’s also the assumption of what their marriages would look like; the traditional model — executive husband and stay-at-home wife — may be a little dated, or unworkable.

Dismantling the "traditional model" isn't all that bad, I think; frankly, that's beyond dated (or so says the feminist in me). But hey, to each his/her own. Personal politics aside, I empathize with their enormous challenge.

Whether you and your partner follow the traditional relationship model, think about this: Say you and your partner decided long ago that, with both of you working, he takes care of the mortgage and taxes and you take care of the groceries, childcare and insurance. Or, he alone works and takes care of all the bills, while you stay at home and take the lead in parenting while the kids are little. 

Then life hands you a whopping lemon and one of you loses your job (or, in the stay-at-home mom case, your partner loses his job). Suddenly, you have to trade off, with little time to get used to the shift. And of course there are the kids to tend to, who may not understand why things aren't how they were.

Talk about piling on the straw on an already hobbled camel's back ... 

—CityMom