Sharon Marchisello's Blog, page 16
April 22, 2017
Countdown to Financial Fitness: Earth Day Thoughts for Lawn and Garden Savings
Countdown to Financial Fitness: Earth Day Thoughts for Lawn and Garden Savings: One lesson I learned from earning a Master Gardener certification is that many people waste money on lawn and garden care. By working with ...
Earth Day Thoughts for Lawn and Garden Savings
One lesson I learned from earning a Master Gardener certification is that many people waste money on lawn and garden care. By working with the environment instead of against it, homeowners could spare themselves endless frustration—not to mention saving cash.
Put the right plant in the right place. Don't fight nature. Plan!
I used to buy impatiens every spring to fill the clay pots on my patio with color. One year, the very next day after I'd planted my new purchases, the deer ate them all. I awoke the next morning to chewed-down stems. Now I grow onions and oregano in those pots. The deer don't seem to bother them... yet.
Many homeowners have a love affair with turf grass. A lush, green carpet. It looks so easy. But grass has to be fertilized so it will grow. If it doesn't rain enough, it has to be watered. Don't get it too wet, though, or it's susceptible to disease. When it grows too tall, it has to be mowed. All that work takes time, costs money.
You apply pre-emergent in the spring and fall to keep the weeds from taking over. Left unattended, your lawn will revert to its natural state: a meadow of weeds. And what is a weed? It's a plant in the wrong place. For some reason, we want grass covering the lawn, not the plants that thrive there naturally, like dandelions, clover, and henbit.
The type of grass you can grow will be dictated by where you live. When we moved to Georgia, we were appalled that our Bermuda grass went dormant and turned a sickly yellowish-brown in the winter, unlike the verdant fescue we enjoyed in Seattle. But Bermuda is the only grass suited for Atlanta's hot summer weather. So Bermuda it is.
And grass doesn't grow in the shade. We have an area on the side of our house shaded all day by a large cherry tree and three river birches. Every year the trees grew taller and the lawn grew thinner. No amount of water, fertilizer, overseeding, and re-sodding with shade-tolerant cultivars could bring it back. Bermuda needs sun; even the "shade-tolerant" varieties need at least four hours a day.
The area is currently covered with mulch. I'm trying to talk my husband into laying a stone path and planting a shade-loving ground cover around it. Giving up on the lawn idea. Beats feeding the turf grass money pit.
Many homeowners follow an annual ritual of automatically adding lime and 10-10-10 fertilizer to their lawns, spending money without knowing whether these additives are actually needed. We did it, too, when we first moved in, because that's what everyone told us to do.
Then we found out about soil tests. For a nominal fee, our county extension office could analyze our soil and tell us what nutrients were missing, what was the PH factor, and what needed to change for the type of plant we wanted to grow in the space. Turns out we didn't need lime for our lawn. A total waste of money. And extra work to go buy the stuff, schlep it home, and put it down.
Even better if you get a soil test before you start planting...
Having a beautiful yard doesn't have to be as hard as we make it. The more you can incorporate native species, the less maintenance required. Native plants don't require as much water as imports because they're already adapted to the climate. They attract pollinators, which help them propagate. They thrive in the type of soil we have, so they need fewer amendments and less fertilizer. They're not as susceptible to pests and disease—all things that cost money to fix.
This Earth Day, be kind to the environment—and, inadvertently, you may be kind to your pocketbook as well.
What tips do you have for saving money in the garden? I'd love to hear your comments.
Sharon Marchisello is the author of Live Cheaply, Be Happy, Grow Wealthy.
Put the right plant in the right place. Don't fight nature. Plan!
I used to buy impatiens every spring to fill the clay pots on my patio with color. One year, the very next day after I'd planted my new purchases, the deer ate them all. I awoke the next morning to chewed-down stems. Now I grow onions and oregano in those pots. The deer don't seem to bother them... yet.
Many homeowners have a love affair with turf grass. A lush, green carpet. It looks so easy. But grass has to be fertilized so it will grow. If it doesn't rain enough, it has to be watered. Don't get it too wet, though, or it's susceptible to disease. When it grows too tall, it has to be mowed. All that work takes time, costs money.
You apply pre-emergent in the spring and fall to keep the weeds from taking over. Left unattended, your lawn will revert to its natural state: a meadow of weeds. And what is a weed? It's a plant in the wrong place. For some reason, we want grass covering the lawn, not the plants that thrive there naturally, like dandelions, clover, and henbit.
The type of grass you can grow will be dictated by where you live. When we moved to Georgia, we were appalled that our Bermuda grass went dormant and turned a sickly yellowish-brown in the winter, unlike the verdant fescue we enjoyed in Seattle. But Bermuda is the only grass suited for Atlanta's hot summer weather. So Bermuda it is.
And grass doesn't grow in the shade. We have an area on the side of our house shaded all day by a large cherry tree and three river birches. Every year the trees grew taller and the lawn grew thinner. No amount of water, fertilizer, overseeding, and re-sodding with shade-tolerant cultivars could bring it back. Bermuda needs sun; even the "shade-tolerant" varieties need at least four hours a day.
The area is currently covered with mulch. I'm trying to talk my husband into laying a stone path and planting a shade-loving ground cover around it. Giving up on the lawn idea. Beats feeding the turf grass money pit.
Many homeowners follow an annual ritual of automatically adding lime and 10-10-10 fertilizer to their lawns, spending money without knowing whether these additives are actually needed. We did it, too, when we first moved in, because that's what everyone told us to do.
Then we found out about soil tests. For a nominal fee, our county extension office could analyze our soil and tell us what nutrients were missing, what was the PH factor, and what needed to change for the type of plant we wanted to grow in the space. Turns out we didn't need lime for our lawn. A total waste of money. And extra work to go buy the stuff, schlep it home, and put it down.
Even better if you get a soil test before you start planting...
Having a beautiful yard doesn't have to be as hard as we make it. The more you can incorporate native species, the less maintenance required. Native plants don't require as much water as imports because they're already adapted to the climate. They attract pollinators, which help them propagate. They thrive in the type of soil we have, so they need fewer amendments and less fertilizer. They're not as susceptible to pests and disease—all things that cost money to fix.
This Earth Day, be kind to the environment—and, inadvertently, you may be kind to your pocketbook as well.
What tips do you have for saving money in the garden? I'd love to hear your comments.
Sharon Marchisello is the author of Live Cheaply, Be Happy, Grow Wealthy.
April 10, 2017
Countdown to Financial Fitness: Almost Taken
Countdown to Financial Fitness: Almost Taken: The "docents" saw me coming. I'd stopped to read a sign about ground transportation and got temporarily separated from my hus...
Almost Taken
The "docents" saw me coming. I'd stopped to read a sign about ground transportation and got temporarily separated from my husband as we exited the customs area at the Santiago airport.
"Lady, can I help you?" The "docent" reached for my tote bag, which was about to topple from my rolling suitcase. ("Docent" is the term my husband I have assigned to those obsequious locals who suddenly become your best friend and offer to escort you around their city, or the monument you're trying to visit, usually in expectation of remuneration.)
"Lady, where are you going?" The docent's partner approached. Sharks were closing in. They had spotted a rich, gullible American tourist, bleary-eyed after an overnight flight, lost and bewildered, definitely in need of some Latin chivalry.
"I'm looking for my husband."
Helpful docents immediately started assisting in the search for my husband. In a few moments, we were reunited. And surrounded by my new amigos.
"Did you find out where to catch the bus to Valparaiso?" my husband asked me. Fortunately, I had done some research ahead of time about ground transportation options. Taxis from the Santiago airport to Valparaiso cost approximately $150, but there was a public bus from the airport to Pajaritos station, where we could board another bus bound for Valparaiso, for approximately $10 each. Frugal travelers that we are, we had settled on this plan.
One of the docents pointed out the location of the public bus stop. "But you don't want to do that," he advised. "To get to Valparaiso, you have to go all the way into Santiago and change buses. And the bus will drop you off downtown, where you'll have to take a taxi to your hotel. Three changes of transportation, carrying all your own luggage, and it will cost you about 50. For only 60, you can take the mini-bus directly to your hotel in Valparaiso. And you can pay with a credit card!"
Minibus? I hadn't read about one, but in many of the cities we've visited, there are semi-public buses leaving from the airport that make the rounds of area hotels, often for less money than a private cab would cost.
"Come." Docents started pulling our suitcases toward the minibus boarding area.
"Sixty what?" I asked as I trotted along after my baggage. "Dollars? Pesos?"
"You'll pay in pesos," one docent replied. "By credit card."
"How many pesos to the dollar?" my husband whispered to me.
"The exchange rate is six to one," said one of the docents.
"Sixty pesos sounds pretty good to me," my husband said.
But something wasn't right. I couldn't remember the exact dollar to peso exchange rate, but it seemed like there were a whole lot of them to the dollar. Sixty pesos was probably less than a dollar. No way was anyone going to drive us two hours to Valparaiso for 60 pesos.
"Do you mean 60 dollars?" I asked. The last time we'd taken a cruise out of Valparaiso—about 10 years ago—we'd taken a shuttle from the airport to the cruise terminal for about 60 dollars each, and my husband still felt like we'd gotten ripped off.
"Six to one," replied one of the docents.
We passed a currency exchange booth and I glimpsed the rate for U.S. dollars: 656 Chilean pesos. Not easy math to do in your head. "He can't mean 60 pesos," I murmured to my husband.
The official taxi stand I had passed at the customs exit posted prices starting at 90. At first glance, my addled brain had assumed 90 dollars but now it sunk in that the price had to be in pesos. The 90 in large print was followed by three tiny zeros. Ninety thousandpesos. But still, a ride directly to our hotel in Valparaiso for 60,000 pesos didn't sound bad.
We reached the minivan. It looked like a large private taxi, not a community-type minibus like I'd seen in other cities. The docents loaded our baggage into the trunk. The driver opened the passenger door.
"Wait," I said to the driver. "How much are we paying?"
He grunted and pointed to the credit card machine.
"Sixty dollars," said my docent friend. "But you pay in pesos. With credit card."
"Sixty each," said one of the other docents.
"Sixty each?" I looked at the driver, the one who would be collecting the money and holding our bags hostage until we paid. "Cuantos pesos para las dos?"
He typed into the machine and thrust it toward me: 120,000. Sixty thousand. Each.
"No! Too much." I didn't have time to run the numbers through my calculator but I knew that amount was way more pesos than we wanted to spend. We grabbed our bags before the docents could close the trunk and headed back to the public bus stop.
"Lady! Wait! What's wrong?"
After a stop at an ATM, we boarded a bus for the 20-minute ride to Pajaritos metro station, paying 1200 pesos each. There we purchased tickets for Valparaiso for 3000 pesos each, with comfortable assigned seats for the 90-minute ride. From the downtown bus station where we arrived, we caught another public bus to a major square for 300 pesos, where we hired a taxi for 1100 pesos to take us up the hill to our hotel. A little less convenient than the private taxi directly from the airport, certainly, but our savings covered our two nights in the hotel. Not to mention getting a little local color in the process.
Several lessons we learned—or rather, reinforced—from this experience: Do your homework. Know the exchange rate. Don't engage the docents.
What rip-offs have you encountered while traveling abroad? I'd love to hear your comments.
Sharon Marchisello is the author of Live Cheaply, Be Happy, Grow Wealthy.
"Lady, can I help you?" The "docent" reached for my tote bag, which was about to topple from my rolling suitcase. ("Docent" is the term my husband I have assigned to those obsequious locals who suddenly become your best friend and offer to escort you around their city, or the monument you're trying to visit, usually in expectation of remuneration.)
"Lady, where are you going?" The docent's partner approached. Sharks were closing in. They had spotted a rich, gullible American tourist, bleary-eyed after an overnight flight, lost and bewildered, definitely in need of some Latin chivalry.
"I'm looking for my husband."
Helpful docents immediately started assisting in the search for my husband. In a few moments, we were reunited. And surrounded by my new amigos.
"Did you find out where to catch the bus to Valparaiso?" my husband asked me. Fortunately, I had done some research ahead of time about ground transportation options. Taxis from the Santiago airport to Valparaiso cost approximately $150, but there was a public bus from the airport to Pajaritos station, where we could board another bus bound for Valparaiso, for approximately $10 each. Frugal travelers that we are, we had settled on this plan.
One of the docents pointed out the location of the public bus stop. "But you don't want to do that," he advised. "To get to Valparaiso, you have to go all the way into Santiago and change buses. And the bus will drop you off downtown, where you'll have to take a taxi to your hotel. Three changes of transportation, carrying all your own luggage, and it will cost you about 50. For only 60, you can take the mini-bus directly to your hotel in Valparaiso. And you can pay with a credit card!"
Minibus? I hadn't read about one, but in many of the cities we've visited, there are semi-public buses leaving from the airport that make the rounds of area hotels, often for less money than a private cab would cost.
"Come." Docents started pulling our suitcases toward the minibus boarding area.
"Sixty what?" I asked as I trotted along after my baggage. "Dollars? Pesos?"
"You'll pay in pesos," one docent replied. "By credit card."
"How many pesos to the dollar?" my husband whispered to me.
"The exchange rate is six to one," said one of the docents.
"Sixty pesos sounds pretty good to me," my husband said.
But something wasn't right. I couldn't remember the exact dollar to peso exchange rate, but it seemed like there were a whole lot of them to the dollar. Sixty pesos was probably less than a dollar. No way was anyone going to drive us two hours to Valparaiso for 60 pesos.
"Do you mean 60 dollars?" I asked. The last time we'd taken a cruise out of Valparaiso—about 10 years ago—we'd taken a shuttle from the airport to the cruise terminal for about 60 dollars each, and my husband still felt like we'd gotten ripped off.
"Six to one," replied one of the docents.
We passed a currency exchange booth and I glimpsed the rate for U.S. dollars: 656 Chilean pesos. Not easy math to do in your head. "He can't mean 60 pesos," I murmured to my husband.
The official taxi stand I had passed at the customs exit posted prices starting at 90. At first glance, my addled brain had assumed 90 dollars but now it sunk in that the price had to be in pesos. The 90 in large print was followed by three tiny zeros. Ninety thousandpesos. But still, a ride directly to our hotel in Valparaiso for 60,000 pesos didn't sound bad.
We reached the minivan. It looked like a large private taxi, not a community-type minibus like I'd seen in other cities. The docents loaded our baggage into the trunk. The driver opened the passenger door.
"Wait," I said to the driver. "How much are we paying?"
He grunted and pointed to the credit card machine.
"Sixty dollars," said my docent friend. "But you pay in pesos. With credit card."
"Sixty each," said one of the other docents.
"Sixty each?" I looked at the driver, the one who would be collecting the money and holding our bags hostage until we paid. "Cuantos pesos para las dos?"
He typed into the machine and thrust it toward me: 120,000. Sixty thousand. Each.
"No! Too much." I didn't have time to run the numbers through my calculator but I knew that amount was way more pesos than we wanted to spend. We grabbed our bags before the docents could close the trunk and headed back to the public bus stop.
"Lady! Wait! What's wrong?"
After a stop at an ATM, we boarded a bus for the 20-minute ride to Pajaritos metro station, paying 1200 pesos each. There we purchased tickets for Valparaiso for 3000 pesos each, with comfortable assigned seats for the 90-minute ride. From the downtown bus station where we arrived, we caught another public bus to a major square for 300 pesos, where we hired a taxi for 1100 pesos to take us up the hill to our hotel. A little less convenient than the private taxi directly from the airport, certainly, but our savings covered our two nights in the hotel. Not to mention getting a little local color in the process.
Several lessons we learned—or rather, reinforced—from this experience: Do your homework. Know the exchange rate. Don't engage the docents.
What rip-offs have you encountered while traveling abroad? I'd love to hear your comments.
Sharon Marchisello is the author of Live Cheaply, Be Happy, Grow Wealthy.
March 16, 2017
Someone Filed My Taxes for Me
I should be working on my income taxes today instead of writing this blog. I'm not one of those taxpayers who rushes to file for my refund in early February, as soon as the W-2s come out. First of all, I rarely get a refund, and secondly, I have some investments that don't report until March. I take that as my license to procrastinate.
But these days, with identity theft running rampant, it's risky to put off filing your tax return. Two years ago, someone beat me to it.
About this time in 2015, my husband and I received a cashier's check in the mail for $9156.02. Nice sum of money, but we weren't expecting such a payment. I assumed it was a fraudulent check and studied it carefully for the fine print stating that cashing it obligated me to buy something or subscribe to some service I didn't want. My mother-in-law used to receive checks in the mail claiming to be prize money; instructions were included for her to deposit the check and then mail in a "processing fee." But the check we received looked real. I couldn't find the catch.
We even called the police department for advice. "If you got a check you weren't expecting, of course it's fraudulent. Tear it up," they instructed us.
But we were hesitant to tear it up until we knew for sure it was a scam. My husband called the bank that had issued the check and read them the information. "It's real," they told him. "It came out of our San Diego branch that issues refunds for TurboTax."
TurboTax? We've never used TurboTax. And we hadn't even filed our 2014 taxes yet, so how could it be our tax refund?
My husband called the Clark Howard radio show. Clark, a consumer advocate, suggested we go to the IRS website under "Where's My Refund?" and put in my husband's Social Security number, our filing status, and the amount of the check.
Bingo! "Your refund has been processed and $9156.02 has been electronically deposited to your bank account."
Fortunately, the crooks screwed something up, and instead of a direct deposit to a thief's bank account, a paper check was generated and mailed to the address on file with the IRS. Otherwise, we never would have known we'd been scammed.
The fun began. We had to file a police report, alert the credit bureaus, and contact the IRS, who assigned us a special counselor to handle return of the fraudulent check (no, unfortunately, we didn't get to keep the money!) and processing of our real return. Although I'd expected to owe money that year, we actually had a refund due—which we didn't receive until December, after our claim of identity theft had been investigated and resolved.
We never learned how it happened. The same fate had befallen our neighbor the year before; he found out because he filed electronically, and when he pushed the Submit button, he was advised he had already filed a return under that Social Security number. The common denominator was an urgent care facility, where both my husband and neighbor had recently received medical treatment.
So far, thankfully, we have not seen any other evidence of identity theft in our financial lives. The IRS has given us a PIN to use when we file subsequent tax returns. However, we're still experiencing fallout from this incident. Our 2014 state tax return is under audit, because the figures I submitted don't match the numbers the IRS sent them--from the fraudulent return, which arrived first.
Have you ever been a victim of identity theft? What suggestions do you have for preventing it?
Sharon Marchisello is the author of Live Cheaply, Be Happy, Grow Wealthy.
But these days, with identity theft running rampant, it's risky to put off filing your tax return. Two years ago, someone beat me to it.
About this time in 2015, my husband and I received a cashier's check in the mail for $9156.02. Nice sum of money, but we weren't expecting such a payment. I assumed it was a fraudulent check and studied it carefully for the fine print stating that cashing it obligated me to buy something or subscribe to some service I didn't want. My mother-in-law used to receive checks in the mail claiming to be prize money; instructions were included for her to deposit the check and then mail in a "processing fee." But the check we received looked real. I couldn't find the catch.
We even called the police department for advice. "If you got a check you weren't expecting, of course it's fraudulent. Tear it up," they instructed us.
But we were hesitant to tear it up until we knew for sure it was a scam. My husband called the bank that had issued the check and read them the information. "It's real," they told him. "It came out of our San Diego branch that issues refunds for TurboTax."
TurboTax? We've never used TurboTax. And we hadn't even filed our 2014 taxes yet, so how could it be our tax refund?
My husband called the Clark Howard radio show. Clark, a consumer advocate, suggested we go to the IRS website under "Where's My Refund?" and put in my husband's Social Security number, our filing status, and the amount of the check.
Bingo! "Your refund has been processed and $9156.02 has been electronically deposited to your bank account."
Fortunately, the crooks screwed something up, and instead of a direct deposit to a thief's bank account, a paper check was generated and mailed to the address on file with the IRS. Otherwise, we never would have known we'd been scammed.
The fun began. We had to file a police report, alert the credit bureaus, and contact the IRS, who assigned us a special counselor to handle return of the fraudulent check (no, unfortunately, we didn't get to keep the money!) and processing of our real return. Although I'd expected to owe money that year, we actually had a refund due—which we didn't receive until December, after our claim of identity theft had been investigated and resolved.
We never learned how it happened. The same fate had befallen our neighbor the year before; he found out because he filed electronically, and when he pushed the Submit button, he was advised he had already filed a return under that Social Security number. The common denominator was an urgent care facility, where both my husband and neighbor had recently received medical treatment.
So far, thankfully, we have not seen any other evidence of identity theft in our financial lives. The IRS has given us a PIN to use when we file subsequent tax returns. However, we're still experiencing fallout from this incident. Our 2014 state tax return is under audit, because the figures I submitted don't match the numbers the IRS sent them--from the fraudulent return, which arrived first.
Have you ever been a victim of identity theft? What suggestions do you have for preventing it?
Sharon Marchisello is the author of Live Cheaply, Be Happy, Grow Wealthy.
Countdown to Financial Fitness: Someone Filed My Taxes for Me
Countdown to Financial Fitness: Someone Filed My Taxes for Me: I should be working on my income taxes today instead of writing this blog. I'm not one of those taxpayers who rushes to file for my ref...
March 6, 2017
Countdown to Financial Fitness: When I Was on Food Stamps
Countdown to Financial Fitness: When I Was on Food Stamps: Over 40 million Americans receive benefits from the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP), also known as food stamps. I'm g...
When I Was on Food Stamps
Over 40 million Americans receive benefits from the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP), also known as food stamps. I'm glad our country has this safety net for low-income families, but I hope never to qualify again.
In addition to earning a low income (amount varies according to the number, age, and disability status of the family members), eligible households can only own $2250 in countable resources, or $3250 if at least one person is over 60 or disabled. Most states exclude a home, vehicle(s), and a retirement pension as countable resources. But still, $2250-$3250 is not much of an asset these days.
We've all heard stories of rampant welfare and food-stamp fraud. I read that at one time, approximately 4% of claims were fraudulent; now the number has been reduced to about 1%. That still leaves millions of people truly in need of assistance.
In the mid 1970s, I was pushed out of my job in Houston, Texas, and filed for unemployment. Someone suggested I apply for food stamps as well. I was happy for any help I could get.
I had to make an appointment at my closest Department of Human Resources office, a 20-mile drive from my apartment. (Now many states allow you to apply online.) Although they'd given me a list of what I needed to bring to the interview—copies of every bill I owed, canceled rent checks, bank statements, proof of unemployment claim, etc.—it wasn't quite good enough, because after I arrived, they decided there was one more paper I needed. They were unable to proceed with my application, so we had to schedule a follow-up interview when all of my documentation was in order.
When I slinked out of the office, humiliated that I couldn't even follow simple government instructions, I ran into a guy I knew from college. We'd worked together part-time on the University of Houston campus as French language tutors. Now he was employed as a social worker at the Texas Department of Human Resources. And I was a client applying for food stamps. I'd hoped he hadn't recognized me, but no such luck.
When I finally got my application approved, I received, by mail, an authorization card to purchase $50 worth of food stamps for $37. These days, one might be able to save that much on groceries by using coupons and loyalty cards! I had to redeem my authorization card and pay my $37 in person at a different office—fortunately, no one I knew worked there—also about 20 miles away from my apartment, in order to collect my $50 booklet of food stamps. Now recipients are given a SNAP card that blends in like an ordinary credit or debit card, so they're not as conspicuous in public.
And of course, there were restrictions about what one could buy with food stamps. There still are, as one of the goals of the program is to promote good nutrition. On my first trip to the grocery store using food stamps, I made the mistake of including in my purchases a bag of dry kibble for my pet kitten. "Ma'am, you can't buy cat food with food stamps!" screamed the cashier. The customers behind me in line—and at the other registers—glared at me like I was a criminal. I just knew someone would slap on the handcuffs at any moment.
Fortunately, I was only on food stamps that one month. The Texas Employment Commission offered me a temporary job in their office, which I couldn't very well turn down and expect to continue receiving unemployment insurance benefits. Workers in the temp program were encouraged to test for other state government jobs, and I soon got an offer from the Texas Department of Human Resources.
The next time I saw my old college friend, I was in training to become a social worker, just like him. And I was helping other people get food stamps.
What are your thoughts on public assistance programs? I'd love to hear your comments.
Sharon Marchisello is the author of Live Cheaply, Be Happy, Grow Wealthy.
In addition to earning a low income (amount varies according to the number, age, and disability status of the family members), eligible households can only own $2250 in countable resources, or $3250 if at least one person is over 60 or disabled. Most states exclude a home, vehicle(s), and a retirement pension as countable resources. But still, $2250-$3250 is not much of an asset these days.
We've all heard stories of rampant welfare and food-stamp fraud. I read that at one time, approximately 4% of claims were fraudulent; now the number has been reduced to about 1%. That still leaves millions of people truly in need of assistance.
In the mid 1970s, I was pushed out of my job in Houston, Texas, and filed for unemployment. Someone suggested I apply for food stamps as well. I was happy for any help I could get.
I had to make an appointment at my closest Department of Human Resources office, a 20-mile drive from my apartment. (Now many states allow you to apply online.) Although they'd given me a list of what I needed to bring to the interview—copies of every bill I owed, canceled rent checks, bank statements, proof of unemployment claim, etc.—it wasn't quite good enough, because after I arrived, they decided there was one more paper I needed. They were unable to proceed with my application, so we had to schedule a follow-up interview when all of my documentation was in order.
When I slinked out of the office, humiliated that I couldn't even follow simple government instructions, I ran into a guy I knew from college. We'd worked together part-time on the University of Houston campus as French language tutors. Now he was employed as a social worker at the Texas Department of Human Resources. And I was a client applying for food stamps. I'd hoped he hadn't recognized me, but no such luck.
When I finally got my application approved, I received, by mail, an authorization card to purchase $50 worth of food stamps for $37. These days, one might be able to save that much on groceries by using coupons and loyalty cards! I had to redeem my authorization card and pay my $37 in person at a different office—fortunately, no one I knew worked there—also about 20 miles away from my apartment, in order to collect my $50 booklet of food stamps. Now recipients are given a SNAP card that blends in like an ordinary credit or debit card, so they're not as conspicuous in public.
And of course, there were restrictions about what one could buy with food stamps. There still are, as one of the goals of the program is to promote good nutrition. On my first trip to the grocery store using food stamps, I made the mistake of including in my purchases a bag of dry kibble for my pet kitten. "Ma'am, you can't buy cat food with food stamps!" screamed the cashier. The customers behind me in line—and at the other registers—glared at me like I was a criminal. I just knew someone would slap on the handcuffs at any moment.
Fortunately, I was only on food stamps that one month. The Texas Employment Commission offered me a temporary job in their office, which I couldn't very well turn down and expect to continue receiving unemployment insurance benefits. Workers in the temp program were encouraged to test for other state government jobs, and I soon got an offer from the Texas Department of Human Resources.
The next time I saw my old college friend, I was in training to become a social worker, just like him. And I was helping other people get food stamps.
What are your thoughts on public assistance programs? I'd love to hear your comments.
Sharon Marchisello is the author of Live Cheaply, Be Happy, Grow Wealthy.
February 27, 2017
Winning the Lottery
I read a story last week about a British woman who won the Euromillions lottery at age 17 and now wants to sue Camelot, the U.K.'s national lottery, for ruining her life. Many readers were probably thinking, I'd love to have the opportunity to ruin my life by winning millions...
But many people who suddenly come into a huge fortune find themselves more unhappy than they were before the money.
According to a recent article in Fortune magazine, the Certified Financial Planner Board of Standards says nearly a third of lottery winners end up declaring bankruptcy. Bankruptcy also plagues many pro-athletes who grew up poor and then suddenly signed contracts for multi-million-dollar salaries.
Before you get your hands on a fortune, it's important to understand how to manage it. Or at least enlist advice from someone you trust. Preferably someone who doesn't have a stake in it.
It's almost impossible to keep a huge windfall a secret. Relatives and old friends you haven't seen in years—people who never gave you the time of day before—suddenly become your best friends. Everyone has their hand out. Sob stories. Guilt trips. Debts you'd forgotten about. Childhood promises. Investment proposals. "Expert" advice.
And then there are all those shiny objects. The sports car or yacht you've always dreamed about but knew you could never afford. Real jewelry. Designer clothes. Maybe a better place to live. Luxury travel. And of course, the opportunity to play Santa Claus for your family and friends.
You tell off your boss and quit your job.
But no matter how huge the windfall, it's not a bottomless pit. Up to 45% of your winnings may go to federal and state income taxes. And if you start doling out gifts exceeding $10,000 in value, you pay gift tax. That new mansion has to be maintained, and you may have to hire people to run it. The new sports car comes with expensive insurance.
Still, even after you pay the taxes on a multi-million-dollar jackpot, a lot of money is left. A lot of potential for improving one's life.
Some lottery commissions give winners the option of having the winnings annuitized over 20 or more years. You end up keeping more of the money, with a lower tax bill. While most winners opt for the bird-in-the-hand lump sum, I believe I'd take the deferred pay-out. That way, if I went crazy and blew through my winnings the first year, I'd have another installment to look forward to the following year. Surely after a few years, I'd grow accustomed to the income and learn to manage it sensibly.
I wouldn't make any sudden changes—quitting the job, moving, buying a business—unless plans were already in the works. I'd pay off any debts and fully fund my retirement account. I'd set aside a million or so for an emergency fund / long-term care plan. If I had kids or grandkids, I'd take care of their college funds.
I'd give a lot to charity. Besides supporting causes I believe in, the donation would lower my income tax bill and would not be subject to gift tax.
And of course, I'd have some fun. Take more trips. Buy presents. And invest most of the windfall—after carefully researching opportunities. I'd still stick to no-load, low-fee products I can understand. I still wouldn't pay more than necessary for purchases. I'd still recycle and conserve electricity and water.
Money doesn't guarantee happiness. But when used responsibly, it can make life easier.
What would you do if you suddenly received a huge sum of money? I'd love to hear your comments.
Sharon Marchisello is the author of Live Cheaply, Be Happy, Grow Wealthy.
But many people who suddenly come into a huge fortune find themselves more unhappy than they were before the money.
According to a recent article in Fortune magazine, the Certified Financial Planner Board of Standards says nearly a third of lottery winners end up declaring bankruptcy. Bankruptcy also plagues many pro-athletes who grew up poor and then suddenly signed contracts for multi-million-dollar salaries.
Before you get your hands on a fortune, it's important to understand how to manage it. Or at least enlist advice from someone you trust. Preferably someone who doesn't have a stake in it.
It's almost impossible to keep a huge windfall a secret. Relatives and old friends you haven't seen in years—people who never gave you the time of day before—suddenly become your best friends. Everyone has their hand out. Sob stories. Guilt trips. Debts you'd forgotten about. Childhood promises. Investment proposals. "Expert" advice.
And then there are all those shiny objects. The sports car or yacht you've always dreamed about but knew you could never afford. Real jewelry. Designer clothes. Maybe a better place to live. Luxury travel. And of course, the opportunity to play Santa Claus for your family and friends.
You tell off your boss and quit your job.
But no matter how huge the windfall, it's not a bottomless pit. Up to 45% of your winnings may go to federal and state income taxes. And if you start doling out gifts exceeding $10,000 in value, you pay gift tax. That new mansion has to be maintained, and you may have to hire people to run it. The new sports car comes with expensive insurance.
Still, even after you pay the taxes on a multi-million-dollar jackpot, a lot of money is left. A lot of potential for improving one's life.
Some lottery commissions give winners the option of having the winnings annuitized over 20 or more years. You end up keeping more of the money, with a lower tax bill. While most winners opt for the bird-in-the-hand lump sum, I believe I'd take the deferred pay-out. That way, if I went crazy and blew through my winnings the first year, I'd have another installment to look forward to the following year. Surely after a few years, I'd grow accustomed to the income and learn to manage it sensibly.
I wouldn't make any sudden changes—quitting the job, moving, buying a business—unless plans were already in the works. I'd pay off any debts and fully fund my retirement account. I'd set aside a million or so for an emergency fund / long-term care plan. If I had kids or grandkids, I'd take care of their college funds.
I'd give a lot to charity. Besides supporting causes I believe in, the donation would lower my income tax bill and would not be subject to gift tax.
And of course, I'd have some fun. Take more trips. Buy presents. And invest most of the windfall—after carefully researching opportunities. I'd still stick to no-load, low-fee products I can understand. I still wouldn't pay more than necessary for purchases. I'd still recycle and conserve electricity and water.
Money doesn't guarantee happiness. But when used responsibly, it can make life easier.
What would you do if you suddenly received a huge sum of money? I'd love to hear your comments.
Sharon Marchisello is the author of Live Cheaply, Be Happy, Grow Wealthy.
Countdown to Financial Fitness: Winning the Lottery
Countdown to Financial Fitness: Winning the Lottery: I read a story last week about a British woman who won the Euromillions lottery at age 17 and now wants to sue Camelot, the U.K.'s nati...
