Coffee heat rising

Quickbooks: If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!

Intuit, like all tech corporations constitutionally incapable of leaving well enough alone, has done a huge revamp of its Quickbooks Online site. And WHAT a mess they’ve made of it!

They’ve made it virtually impossible to enter transactions directly in the “register” — which is easiest for me. Once they get you into the “journal” view, you can’t get out of it. They’ve eliminated the “cash purchase” choice for describing a transaction and expect you to expense all direct electronic payments.

When asked about this, the techs reveal that they don’t know that “expense” (as in “to expense”) has a specific meaning in accountantese, and that you might want to distinguish between an electronic payment and something you expensed.

They knocked WonderAccountant off her connection to my QB accounts. Nothing we did would reconnect her. We ended up having to sit in her office and listen to Intuit’s phone put-off blather while we waited interminably for someone to pick up the line. The fix, as the tech pointed out, was simple: but it wasn’t even faintly self-evident. Or evident at all!

Quickbooks Online is now so difficult and so hair-tearing, I can’t use it. I finally threw up my hands and told WonderAccountant that I was gonna go back to Excel.

Well, o’course she’s seen what I can to to an Excel spreadsheet… “Oh, no!” quoth she. “PLEASE don’t do that. Just bring all your statements over here and I’ll enter the data!!!”

Yeah. That’s what happens when you set an English major loose on Excel.

So now I not only have to pay for Quickbooks, I have to pay an accountant to use it! Thank you very much, Intuit!

Okay, so QB automatically uploads most transactions from your bank, and that’s nice. BUT…often those transactions are inscrutable. What category do they go into? What does this or that transaction actually represent? And checks? Despite the wonders of the technological age, I still do pay the yard guy and the accountant and my subcontractors with checks. The credit union records that a check happened, but it can’t transmit the recipient’s name or the check memo, and so she has no idea who it was written to or what it was written for.

When I record a check in the paper check register, it’s usually on the fly. Often I can’t read my handwriting or I forget to write down the date. So just forking over the check register along with the bank statement is likely to be worse than unhelpful.

Same is true for deposits: The credit union’s statements reflect deposits, of course, but they don’t show who the deposit came from or what for.

So yesterday I ended up consuming a fair amount of my scarce time creating a spreadsheet to record checks and deposits. This, we now have on DropBox.

One of the Intuit guys said that a correctly crafted Excel spreadsheet can be uploaded direct into QB. With any luck, she won’t need to fool with that. I think all that will be needed will be just for her to be able to find the check and see who received it and what for.

What an incredible waste of my time! And what a waste of her (paid!!!) time!

She’s tearing her hair in frustration and confusion, too, and she’s a great deal more proficient with QB than I am. She actually takes courses in Quickbooks as part of her ongoing training activities.

This is very much like the original reason I abandoned Quicken for the PC & Mac. Every couple of years, they’d force you to junk the program you had, which was working adequately, and pay for an “update” that was usually difficult to learn. Each new iteration brought a new pain in the tuchus. If you delayed buying an unnecessary “update,” after a year or so your data no longer could be read and you’d lose years of work.

Finally I thought screw you, Intuit! and went to an Excel spreadsheet. Excel lacks some of QB’s whiz-bang bells and whistles, but it suffices to record your transactions. I’m quite sure that if you knew how to do a pivot report in Excel, you could extract whatever you need to do a tax return in short order. The “sort” function alone suffices, if you’ve faithfully entered each transaction’s “category.”

Matter of fact, there’s a guy who’s published an Excel spreadsheet that you can use to file your 1040! It doesn’t appear to generate a useful report, though, based on a year’s worth of data. I expect it can be done, though, if you know what you’re doing.

Really. I thought Quickbooks Online was the answer to the headaches with the terminal-resident Quicken for Mac. Wrong!

Yeah, I was right…

…I hate Twitter. Yes, I do. I hate Twitter.

Now, admittedly I thought I would hate Twitter when the thing first developed. The very concept was anathema, then as now. But okay. I know. One must go with the flow. Especially if one wishes to sell stuff, apparently. Or if one wishes to waste vast swaths of one’s time. I guess.

Lookit this:

stupidstuffontwitter2

Stupidstuffontwitter1

Pretty typical stuff, it is. Either ad after ad after mind-numbing ad for low-rent self-published fiction (and YES that IS exactly what we’re publishing over at Camptown Races Press) or toilet-paper rolls of drivel and irrelevancy.

WHO READS THIS SHIT AND WHY???????

Can it possibly be effective, even faintly effective, to cultivate a presence in any such swamp? How? How on earth can anyone manage to get any worthwhile attention amid all this meaningless, mind-numbing, brain-thwacking static?

Okay. I’m tired. It’s raining. It’s so humid that just sitting here on a chair in front of a computer causes dew to form all over your body. The dogs are comatose. I am comatose.

But I believe the reason I’m comatose has more to do with Twitter than 90% humidity on a 90-degree day.

Ugh. Wasting my time gives me hives.

 

The Flatware Safari

cluny

So yesterday I remarked that I might buy a set of better-quality stainless-steel flatware, since my energy-efficient Bosch dishwasher tarnishes my beloved silverware when run on the endless “sanitize” cycle, the only cycle that will get the dishes clean.

This morning I had to schlep to Scottsdale for a meeting, so while out there I dropped by a Crate & Barrel to look at one of their 18/10 stainless sets.

Good lord.

Feather light. Mediocrity. Junk. All terms that come to mind when you inspect and handle the wares.

Who would pay $280 for a set of this stuff?

Really, I guess young people no longer have a choice, since apparently most flatware is now cheaply made (and junkily made!) in China. People commenting online about choices in stainless rave on about stuff they bought thirty years ago, but those who have tried to replace their pattern’s pieces recently report on poor quality and corrupted design.

Driving home, I thought, Why do I want to waste my time searching for decent (therefore probably nonexistent) stainless or waste my money on something that can’t even begin to compare with what I want, when I have a perfectly good set of real silver that I love? SO WHAT if it has to be washed by hand? When did washing a few pieces of silverware kill me?????

So there you are, dear Corporate America. If you can’t provide an adequate product, some of us won’t buy anything at all.

Really, if I seriously wanted a decent set of stainless, I’d be looking in pawn shops and thrift stores for something manufactured in the 1970s. It would take some time to find it, but dollars to donuts it’d be worth the time.

Of Books, Business, and Dishwashers

So here at the Funny Farm, the proprietor continues to put in 12- to 14-hour days. Got a meeting in another two hours, which means no time to write this post AND get any significant other work done. WTF…I’m writing. Dammit, I get a chance to have a cup of coffee and rest for a few minutes.

Yesterday FaM subscribers received an email warning…uhm, advising you all that I soon will be emanating a kind of business newsletter from the Camptown Ladies site, holding forth more about the adventure of starting a new publishing enterprise than about the Racy Books themselves.

A rose, a candle, and an extraordinary man... Or is he a man?
A rose, a candle, and an extraordinary man… Or is he a man?

Speaking of the which, I see I’ve failed to mention our latest shenanigan, The Ouija Lover. Actually, this randy little number is one of my favorite books. The characters come to life quickly and are pretty entertaining — they get more so in the second book of the series, The Taming of Bonnie. The conceit — the “concept” in Hollywoodese — is really bizarre. So that went online yesterday, available for your browsing pleasure at this very moment.

The Ouija Lover is one of several spooky-themed stories that we’re publishing in honor of Halloween and La Dia de los Muertos. Only one of them, Kelpie (scheduled for publication next week), is really very dark.

Interestingly, most of the Camptown Races stories are fairly light and upbeat. That, apparently, is the overall mood of my writers. The occasional heavy or dark piece is an intriguing exception. I think that’s because these stories are very fun to write and (we hope) fun to read. We’re all getting a hoot out of creating racy stories!

Meanwhile, life goes on. In altogether different realms … I wish to sic one of our fictional spooks on the dunderheads who came up with “high-efficiency” home appliances. There’s another bizarre conceit: the idea that a piece of equipment that takes twice as long to do the job and does it badly (so the job often has to be done over again) magically saves electricity and water. Where do people dream these ideas up?

The present target of my ire is (again) the expensive Bosch dishwasher that I installed to replace the deceased (allegedly less marvelously “efficient”) model. This is the one that won’t get your dishes clean unless you run it on the “Sanitize” cycle, thereby engaging an internal heater that boosts the water’s heat enough to wash off the dirt without benefit of functional detergent. The cycle that takes two hours and forty-one minutes of electric power to wash a load of dishes that would take you about 15 minutes and no electric power (assuming you have a gas water heater) to wash by hand.

Now, I happen to own a set of Christofle silverware that the ex- and I bought back when we were flush and dumb. After we split, I took the silver with me. And I thought at the time, I am gonna use this silver and not save it for a special occasion, BECAUSE special occasions never come and I love this stuff.

So for the past 18 or 20 years, I’ve used the Christofle every day, with every meal. Early on, I found a set of stainless that knocks off Christofle’s design (no longer available: patent infringement?), which I use for cooking. And early on, I learned that if you keep the stainless separate from the silver, you can run the silverware through the dishwasher with no harm.

Well. So it went until I acquired the current “efficient” Bosch. After I figured out that the only way to get the contraption to work was to run it on the sani-cycle every time, I found that suddenly the silver was tarnishing and needed to be repolished every time I turned around. (Normally I’d polish the silver maybe once every six months or a year — if you’re using it all the time, it doesn’t tarnish unless you leave it sitting in lemon juice or some such.)

WTF? Why was I suddenly having to polish the silver every two weeks?

Finally I figured out that it must have something to do with the heat in the washer’s sanitize cycle. If you want the dishes clean, you can’t put the silverware in there.

And that means that if I want to use my silver, I have to wash every piece by hand after every meal!!!!

Thank you, dear environmentally correct hucksters, for taking us back to the 1950s in one more aspect of our lives.

Now, in general I’m none too fond of housework. But of all the housework chores, I hate washing dishes by hand with the deepest passion. It’s one thing to have to wash the laundry by hand once every week or two. But another thing altogether to have to wash eating utensils by hand two or three times a day.

It’s such a nuisance, in fact, that I’m thinking about packing up the silver, hiding it from the burglars somewhere or giving it to my son, and just going over to Pottery Barn or Crate & Barrel and buying a set of decent stainless.

The Christofle knock-off stainless is cheap and light-weight. The real stuff, the silver, has a nice heft to it, which adds to the pleasure of a nice meal. A better set of stainless would have that quality, and it also would go in the dishwasher. Voilà: one annoyance gone. Sort of.

Crate & Barrel has some very attractive 18/10 designs. They’re not cheap, but they’re not horribly expensive. I just resent having to put away something I’ve made part of my daily life and that I enjoy using. Nor do I want to spend money on something like this because of some stupid “improvement” that’s utterly unnecessary, ineffective, and unfair.

Pisseth me off.

Digital Aversion

They say you should start your work day with the chore you like least. Then you have the worst done and the rest of the day is, as it were, smooth sailing. Thus if you’re in sales, you should start with cold calls. If you’re a lawn man, maybe you should pull out weeds by their roots first thing in the morning.

By that theory, I should be over at Amazon right now, X-ing out my existence as the author of six books and creating a new existence as Roberta Stuart, pornographer par excellence. This is how I should start my day: get the most obnoxious, difficult, hair-tearing, time-sucking job out of the way first.

But as you can see…I’m not there. I’m here. Doing this.

It just makes me cringe.

What an ineffable waste of time. Amazon has decreed that you can’t have more than three pseudonyms, and it has further decreed that any variant of your name is NOT your name but is a “pseuodnym.” (I have three, because my dear parents gifted me with an unpronounceable, weird, and insufferably snooty first name.) So in order to build an “Author Page” to peddle my little company’s Racy Books, I have to sign out as myself and sign in with a new email and create a new persona. Then I have to persuade Amazon that the new persona is me. Then I have to jump through hoop after hoop after hoop, presumably, to get revenues for Camptown Races books directed to the corporate bank account. It is going to be a freaking nightmare and I don’t wanna do it!

I don’t want to do it, because it soaks up time. Needlessly. And time is my only asset with any value!

The only element of my life that’s worth anything is my time. And as the seconds and the minutes pass, I have less and less of it. Every time the sun rises, every time the sun sets, I have less time in my spiritual bank account.

The older you get, the more conscious you grow of that particular little reality.

Hence: digital aversion. NOTHING consumes time more voraciously than these wondrous computer devices, programs, and platforms we all have to deal with, day in and day-a-wasting out.

Every day I have to learn some new program, jump through some new digital hoop, contend with some new hassle. Every hour is at least partly consumed  by watching a computer grind away and grind away and grind away. Some part of every day is absorbed by getting around yet another error message, yet another digital roadblock.

As we speak, I’m hassling with WordPress because it’s decided to hang over the upload of a freaking THUMBNAIL, goddamnit, needed to update the Camptown Races Press site. It’s not like this was a gigantic TIFF here. No. This is a tiny little JPEG. Now I’ve had to crash out of the program, my coffee has gone cold while I’ve wrestled with that sh!t, the page is not updated and for all I know may never BE updated and for the life of me I can NOT figure out how to make   control the amount of air between those damn thumbnail images.

I personally have come to hate it.

Yeah, digital technology has done wondrous things for our ability to communicate and to cope with vast quantities of (largely irrelevant) information. But folks…

Life was better without it.

Speaking of Roberta, that wily and prolific author has emitted another new book:

Veronica & KJ 2Girlfriends LORES

And she would be forever in your debt if you would grab it from Amazon and post a fine review of the thing.

Annuities?

   What d’you know about the annuity as a vehicle for retirement strategy?

I’ve always been dubious about them. However… I have a friend, whom I’ve now known for five or six years and whom I believe to be fundamentally honest and above board. Part of his business is financial management, and one his favorite strategies entails setting clients up with annuities.

He points out that if I took about $300,000 of my vast riches — approximately half of investments and cash holdings — and put it in a lifetime annuity with a death benefit of 300 grand, I could generate more than the amount I need to live on for the rest of my life, still have money invested in securities, and leave a guaranteed $300,000 to my son when I croak over.

Given my chronic bag lady syndrome, this sounds pretty tempting.

My concern is that if the prominent oncologist who de-boobed me is right — that I should live to about 95, barring accidents and unforeseen circumstances — I will outlive my money by ten or twenty years and than spend advanced old age in serious poverty.

I do not want to continue teaching freshman comp courses, a job I truly dislike whether in the classroom or online, and I’m certainly not betting that publishing Racy Books for Racy Readers is going to make me rich. Right now I can’t even get accursed Amazon to let me create an Author’s Page for our pseudonymous scribbler, Roberta Stuart.

So, assuming no money is going to come in from side gigs or the S-corp, and knowing the government is shearing the hell out of my savings by forcing me to take large required minimum drawdowns just as the stock market heads back into negative territory, I’m thinking an annuity that would return enough to live on would give me some peace of mind and also allow me to preserve at least SOME capital as I age. And also leave at least something for my son.

Two drawbacks come to mind, as I consider this scheme:

a) it locks up $300,000, which presumably I will never be able to access again; and
b) the payouts do not seem to be inflation-adjusted.

Even though we’re not seeing much inflation now, it would be absurd to assume that we won’t in the future. My father’s retirement was devastated by the inflationary period of the 1970s, which reduced a healthy savings account to…well, not enough to live on. He had signed himself into a life-care community just as that period started, so at least he had a roof over his head and a couple of meals a day. But because of the loss of his dollars’ buying power, he did not have enough to do much other than stay underneath that communal roof and eat in the (awful!) institutional dining hall. That’s even though he started out with the 1960s equivalent of just over a million dollars!

That, IMHO, makes for quite the dreary lifestyle.

US politics grow increasingly negative. Some extremely dangerous fools are trying to attain power, and sooner or later they will succeed. When that happens, the US economy will become even more unstable than it is. So, runaway inflation — or another profound recession like the one that’s taken us 8 or 10 years to come out of — is a distinct possibility. I have no faith in the country’s economic future, and I do not believe the stock market alone is a safe place to keep all of one’s savings.

Nor, obviously, is stuffing the mattress with gold bullion a great idea. The insomnia factor aside, gold bars are too heavy for an old bat to haul to the grocery store.

I’ve talked with WonderAcccountant about the annuity question, as well as the highly knowledgeable Evan at My Journey to Millions.

WonderAccountant thinks I don’t really need to set up an annuity, as she believes there’s enough money in securities to support me into my old age, no matter how much I take out, but she suggests the peace of mind could be worth the hassle and the risk. Evan observes that some annuities are excellent retirement strategies and some are not: they’re complicated instruments that you need to understand fully before you buy.

So, I’m thinking about it.

Even if most of my money were drawn down by the time I died, if I invested half of it in an annuity, my son would inherit my paid-off house and also the $300,000 death benefit. The house is probably worth $280,000 or $300,000 now — but we know how reliable those figures can be. Nevertheless, with a paid off house in hand, he could either sell the house he’s in or rent it, providing a little cash flow for him. Or he could sell this house and use the proceeds to salt his own retirement savings.

But…do I really want to tie up half my savings in an instrument that’s not inflation-adjusted? Twenty-five or thirty grand now sounds, well, just grand. But in ten years, even if inflation stays low, it won’t be enough to keep me going. In 20 years, when I’m 90, I‘ll need over $45,000 to buy what $25,000 buys today. And as for that $300,000 death benefit: if I die at age 90, it will take $541,833 to equate to today’s 300 grand. It will be worth a little more than half of what it’s worth now.

That assumes an inflation rate of just 3%, staying stable over two decades…