… is power and all that, especially if it’s knowledge of your own finances.
Since math is not my strong point – numbers make my eyes glaze over in a way that makes me wonder if a calculator was dropped on my head as a child – and I tend to veer away from things I’m not good at, I tend to give my own bank account the cold shoulder. Except when I’m withdrawing money from it, which I’m quite good at.
In my ideal world, I would deposit money into an account and then forget all about it, only to go back to it 10 years later to discover it has immensely swelled in value, in which case I shall use that money to live happily ever after. Alas, it turns out it is not so simple.
For one, banks make mistakes. Either their computers do, or their people. Even the multinational ones, which came as quite a shock to me. I seem to be particularly cursed in this regard which means I can never dig my head into the sand as completely as I would like to. Also, there is such a thing as a dormant account, which mine keeps becoming. Thus, ignoring your account means that you have run around getting it reactivated or whatever, just for the pleasure of having access to it should the remote possibility arise that you need to.
I thought marrying a banker would be a good solution to my math-inertia and it has worked out quite well in that regard. However, as women are always advised to control their own finances, I feel obliged to maintain some money in my name, and then in the case of inevitable problems, I have to sort it out myself. Oh, how I long for the old days, when one’s husband could paternalistically speak to bank manager’s on one’s behalf. Sadly, now I have to ask intelligent questions and try to understand even. Ouff.
However, the result is that I have a dim understand of my own limited wealth. The key is to keep focussing on the statement at hand even though you’re so tempted to switch windows and browse pretty mason jars on Pinterest. It’s like a marathon you have to push through, and just do it, even if it means calling India multiple times to nag people to right their wrongs. And when it finally gets all sorted and all the zeros align up nicely, one does get a warm glow of satisfaction.
Readers, my message to you this Thanksgiving is Know Thy Money. Then try not to spend it.