Coffee heat rising

Do no-buy days work?

For a while, I’ve suspected that “no-buy days”—days in which you deliberately stay away from merchandisers of all kinds—would cause you to spend less on those days but create a pent-up demand that would predispose you to more spending and stimulate impulse buys on the days you allowed yourself into the stores.

In the wee hours of this morning, as I was wondering how I could get around what is now a migrating closing date on my American Express account, it occurred to me that instead of “no buy” days, you could establish set “buy” days during a given billing cycle, and otherwise letevery day be a no-buy day. In other words, you would not set foot in a retail establishment or click on a Web store’s site except on specific days set aside to make purchases. This thought drove me to Quicken as dawn was cracking.

There I discovered that over the past year I’ve tended somewhat in that direction: more and more no-buy days and fewer and fewer days in which I do purchase things. In January 2008, for example, I made 16 trips to various food purveyors, dropping an astonishing $734.33 on groceries. In January 2009, I made 10 trips and spent $333.99 on groceries.

Evidently, fewer trips to grocery stores mean less cash spent on groceries.

Now, in January 2008, my German shepherd was still living. She ate a lot of food, and that may account for some of the whopping bill. But what really accounts for it is that I was in the habit of stopping by Trader Joe’s or AJ’s (a local “gourmet” market) on the way home from work, where I would regularly buy a snack and beer or wine. I’ve almost stopped doing that. To the extent that I buy beer or wine—which I’ve also almost stopped doing—I buy it at Costco, where Corona is to be had at a significant markdown over the grocery-store price. And I’ve been sick for the past month and haven’t felt like eating…that could have to do with the drop in spending.

The December grocery bill was a hundred bucks more than January’s, but then I did throw an expensive Christmas dinner party.

The truth is, it looks like staying out of grocery stores cuts one’s bills significantly. With a little tinkering—establish specific days for shopping, build a week or ten days’ worth of menus beforehand and attack the store with a carefully crafted shopping list, and shop more at Target or even (ugh!) Walmart—it ought to be possible to reduce the grocery bill to a sane level. Three hundred and thirty bucks for one old lady and one small dog is not sane.

The trouble with grocery shopping at Target is that Target is a dangerous place. The last time I saved a bunch of money on grocery items, I spent $150 on sheets and bedding that I really didn’t need. I also spotted a $250 bicycle of the type I covet, available at other purveyors for $400 to $700. Ditto Walmart: they have the minivacuum cleaner I want, the one with the electric cord. Every other store carries only the cordless variety, which won’t run long enough to vacuum an entire houseful of tiled floors. All the big box stores—Costco, Target, Home Depot, and Walmart—pose the same threat. You go in to buy necessities, but they offer so much other tempting junk that it’s very, very difficult to get out with your wallet intact.

But I will say: last year at this time I was spending way too much at Trader Joe’s and AJ’s, emporiums that sell almost nothing but groceries and household items.

Here, apparently, is the key to surviving on a reduced income: plan, plan, plan! Plan specific shopping days and gasoline-purchase days. Plan purchases carefully, using lists and resisting unplanned buys. Defer impulse buys until the next scheduled shopping day, to give yourself time to think it over. And plan to make every day a no-buy day except for the scheduled shopping days.

Money Stories Carnival in progress

Next Tuesday, Funny will again host the Carnival of Money Stories. So, don’t forget to send in your stories. That’s s-t-o-r-i-e-s: narratives of something that happened, as in first this happened, then the next thing happened, then the next thing, then it all added up to that. Not how-to’s, not lists, not helpful hints.

I love the idea of the Carnival of Money Stories. Story is the way cultures communicate their most important ideas and values: this is how we hand our ideas down to the next generation and how we speak to each other about the issues that concern us the most. Story is about things that matter. Some of them are great fun to read, too.

So, please: join the conversation! If you’re interested in hosting, BTW, you might check out the hosting guidelines, which explains how and where to volunteer your services.

Cost-effective ride?

lightrailexteriorlgOur brand-new light rail system is already raising its price per ride. Hasn’t been running two months, and the price is going up a buck, from $1.25 (one way!) to $2.25. I’m sure that won’t be the first increase.

The other evening one of my RAs, who doesn’t own a car, rode the train up to M’hijito’s house to meet me so I could chauffeur him to an Arizona Book Publishing Association shindig. He said it took an hour to get from lovely downtown Tempe to the corner of Seventh Avenue and Camelback. That’s a 20-minute drive in your car.

At the current rate, would it be cost-effective for me to ride the train, once the city has torn down an entire row of homes and trashed the property values in my neighborhood so they can run the train tracks up the road that demarcates this neighborhood from the bland slums just to the west? Assuming the rate stays the same, at $5 per round trip?

Let us calculate:

My house is 18 miles from the campus. Coincidentally, my car gets about 18 miles a gallon if I’m not hypermiling. (If I drive very carefully, I can push it up to around 25 mpg, but let’s assume I’m keeping up with traffic and not driving my fellow homicidal drivers crazier than they already are.)

Assume gas prices stay at $1.70 a gallon. Assume the train ride stays at $2.25 one-way, $5.00 round trip. Because I have a disabled parking sticker, I can park in any metered space in Tempe for free, so I do not pay GDU’s $780/year parking fee. Let’s also assume I go out to campus 5 days a week and I take 3 weeks of vacation time.

Thus: The cost of gas for a round trip is $3.40 a day. I commute 5 days a week for 49 weeks, or 245 days a year.

$3.40 x 245 = $833 a year: Cost of driving for a person with a disabled sticker.
$833 + $780 = $1,613 a year: Cost of driving for a person who has not discovered you can park for free with a disabled sticker, or who buys a parking space within a mile of the office

Okay. If the train costs $5.00 per round trip:

$5 x 245 = $1,225 a year: Cost of riding the train

Not too bad: only $392 a year more than I’m presently paying. That doesn’t take into account the wear and tear on my car. However, my car, being a Toyota, does not cost anywhere near $392 a year for upkeep and repairs.

It also doesn’t take into account the two hours you would spend in transit: 80 minutes more time wasted in transit than you would kill sitting in an automobile each day. That’s 19,600 minutes a year, 326.67 more hours of your life wasted in a train than in a car!

Does anyone seriously think people are going to ride this train for real commutes from the outer reaches of the Valley? If I bought a house in one of the now-bankrupt new suburbs out by the White Tanks or halfway to Prescott, the number of miles I would have to commute would triple. So would the time spent in transit.

In the unlikely event that the train fare stays constant, clearly the longer your commute the more you would save on gas. However, the end of the line will be about six blocks from my house. If you lived out at the White Tanks or up in Anthem, you’d have to drive all the way into the middle of town, anyway. By the time you get this far, you only have another 20 minutes to drive. Your air-conditioning has made the car nice and cool, and the Park-&-Ride will sit smack in the middle of a high-crime area where your car is likely to be broken into or stolen.

What would you do: park your car in a dangerous lot in 115-degree heat and add another hour to your commute, or keep on truckin’?

The cleaning lady jamboree

Having laid off the two women who landed a cleaning job here at the Funny Farm by leaving their Kwik-Kopied business card on the door, I decided to run the vacuum cleaner and clean the 1,860 square feet of tile that is the floors.

Ah, cleaning ladies. How quickly one forgets (after only 15 years or so) why it’s sometimes (usually) better to do it yourself.

In a pinch, a wire tie substitutes for a bolt.

So I grab the vacuum cleaner…and the handle falls off.

Ah hah! That’s where that bolt on the floor came from…a month and a half ago. After searching around for a couple of weeks, I couldn’t figure out what it fell out of. Eventually I either put it away where I could never find it again or threw it out.

Wired the handle to the vacuum cleaner. Swept all the tile. Then dust-mopped, preparatory to steam-cleaning. Last time the ladies were here, they announced that they didn’t like the steam-cleaner and instead wanted to use a good old-fashioned string mop. That was when they applied something like a gallon of Simple Green to my floors.

No wonder they didn’t want to use a steamer. One of the cleaners, the old one that worked the best, was clogged to nonfunctionality: looked like they’d left water sitting in its tank, where it evaporated and filled all the vents with calcium deposits. Poured some vinegar in there to soak and used the other unit, which I’d purchased as a back-up.

A microfiber cloth jury-rigged to the steamer works better than the steamer's wimpy pad.

Normally a steamer floats over a ceramic tile floor like a planchette on a ouija board. But with a gallon of detergent smeared on the floor, it was like pushing the thing over a rubber mat: tacky and gummy. The microfiber rag I’d wrapped around the cleaner came up black and gooey after running it over just one room—normally, one rag will do for the entire house. A second go-over saturated another rag with black, gooey gunk.

Six blackened rags later… Now I figure swabbing the floor with vinegar may cut some of the dried-on detergent. Pour some white vinegar into a bucket and dilute, 50-50, with water. Wrap another microfiber rag around the Swiffer gadget and apply the stuff to the tiles. Steam.

Eight blackened rags later… Well, I doubt if the floors are free of gunk. Gray stuff was still coming up on the fourth steam-scrubbing. But at least the streaks are gone. My guess is that over the next few weeks, if I clean the floors once or twice a week, eventually the stuff will come up.

After all that floor scrubbing, tomorrow it’s supposed to rain.

The wages of stupidity! This adventure is the result of having forgotten one of Funny’s Ten Money Principles:
Do It Yourself!

And did I mention we were through the looking glass?

Funny to functionary in business office, re: furloughs:

SK [Sidekick] and I would like to ensure that each of us takes our furlough days on different days of the week, to be sure someone who is not a grad student is in place at [Our Spectacular Office] at all times. To accomplish that, here’s the plan I would like to suggest:

I take each payday between now & the end of the current FY as the furlough day. This is 11 days. I will need to see how much one of these things actually reduces my take-home pay before deciding when to take the 12th day, as I will have to figure out where the survival money will come from. This will probably happen while the weather is still cool enough that we don’t have huge air-conditioning bills.

SK may then take the Thursday of payday week off, if she would like, or any other day in each pay period. Similarly, SK will need to figure out how she will make ends meet before deciding on a 12th day.

The only question we have about this is the effect the lagging pay policy would have on using the payday itself as the furlough day. As far as I can figure, there are 11 paydays between now and June 30, because the July 2 payday actually covers a period that ends in June. Is that correct?

I hope this strategy is acceptable to the Dean’s Office. If there’s any problem with it, please alert me so we can adjust accordingly.

Functionary to Funny, re: furloughs:

There are actually 12 pay periods in the furlough time. It began this week. You will be able to figure out approximately how much it will reduce your take home pay if you take 10% of your pay and subtract it from the total pay. (one day of each pay period is 1 out of 10 days or 10%) If you and SK, start this week, then you have 12 pay periods and you will not have to have any check with 2 days missing. Does that make sense?

Thank you for being conscious of the fact that it is important we have coverage in your office at all times. The College appreciates that.

Heh heh heh heh heh heh…you betcha!

You understand: We get paid on July 2, a day earlier than normal because July 3, a holiday, falls on our usual payday. We have what is known as “lagging pay,” meaning our paychecks cover periods of varying distance in the past. No one who is human has been able to figure out a rationale for this system, which makes exactly zero sense.

M’hijito once explained lagging pay to me, pointing out that, among other benefits for the employer, it amounts to a way to short you for paid vacation time at the time you leave a company’s employ. It was all over my head, so I didn’t understand a word of what he said. But I’m quite certain that whatever its effects, they’re not in the worker’s interest.

Last year our mid-July paycheck was issued on July 18 and covered June 30. That would suggest this year’s scheduled July 17 check will also claim to cover days in the prior fiscal year.

What this means is that even though the furloughing is supposed to stop at the end of the fiscal year (June 30), we still get our pay docked in not one but TWO paychecks in the following month.

Meanwhile, we still have only eleven pay periods of days (22 weeks) that we will work in the current fiscal year. If we take a day off between July 1 and July 17, we’re taking it off in the next fiscal year. The only way we can squeeze 12 furlough days into eleven pay periods is to take two days in one pay period.

Actually, you’re allowed to take part days. So you could, in theory, divide one day in four and take 1.25 days off in four pay periods.

Isn’t that cute?

caterpillar

Illustration from Alice in Wonderland by John Tenniel

Cleaning lady layoff day

mopTrying to work up the courage to call the new cleaning ladies and tell them they won’t be coming back. The “furlough” (read “pay cut”) will excise almost twice what they charge from my paycheck. And paying what they charge was a stretch in the first place.

So, I feel bad about that, because I’m sure they wouldn’t be doing the work if they didn’t need the pay.

On the other hand… The last time they were here, Norma announced she didn’t like the steam cleaner I use on the 1860 square feet of tile that covers my floors…could she use the mop and Simple Green? Sure, said I, thinking each to her own.

I then went on about my business. When I came back in, I thought the house smelled mighty strongly of Simple Green. It didn’t smell of Simple Green: it reeked. And it continued to stink of perfumed detergent for the next three days.

Odd, thought I, since that never happens on the rare occasions that I clean the floors with a mop. Ohhh well.

Well, a couple of days ago I went to grab the big bottle of vinegar out of the the garage cabinets and found the lifetime-supply bottles of Simple Green in front of it. Pick one up to move it out of the way and whoa! It’s almost empty!

Those women used almost an entire gallon of Simple Green on the floor! What the heck did they do? Dump the stuff into the bucket and use it undiluted? For hevvinsake, no wonder the place stank.

A gallon of Simple Green will last me for a good six months, or more. It’s not like the stuff is cheap or easy to find—Costco quit carrying it, and Home Depot only recently picked it up. So now I’ll have to pony up money out of my reduced paycheck to buy some more of that stuff. And come next cleaning day, I’ll have the fun of scrubbing the residue up off the tiles. Wheeee!

Just goes to show, if you want something done right, do it yourself.