Why Can’t We Talk About Money? Sarah and John and Gabriel Talk about Money

Is it just me, or does money make people feel awkward and uncomfortable? Not big money, like the budget deficit, trillions of dollars seems as far away as the stars, and I’m not entirely sure I’m clear on what the deficit means, anyway. I’m talking about our money, how much we pay, how much we earn, how much we waste.

I decided to confront this issue when I read an article in YES magazine called The Human Cost of Stuff by Annie Leonard. Okay, simple question: would you enjoy that new Ralph Lauren plaid flannel shirt if you knew it was made by a child in a Bangladesh sweat-shop? Hell, no. I had a sudden picture of myself, looking a little like Sally Field, holding up a sign that said UNION in whatever language they speak in Bangladesh. But of course children working in sweat shops can’t read because they should be in school, and they’re not. They’re making shirts for me in exchange for money for a handful of rice.

So here’s the new plaid flannel shirt, very pretty, by the way, in scarlet and green and ivory. I’m going to trace it back to its origins and calculate the cost. I check the tags, and find one that says, in print so faint I can hardly read it: Supplier number# and Job number# . Hmmm. I’m not the only person searching my clothes for crimes against humanity!

So I will have to guess. Material: cotton. Most cotton in the world comes from China or the US or India. The good flannel comes from Portugal. For what I paid for the shirt, it better be the good flannel. Garment factories—China, India, Bangladesh. Some in Mexico. Cutting, sewing. Packaging and distribution: the shirt must have taken a sea voyage to get to the US, probably in a cargo container. From LA it went by truck to a warehouse where it was folded, boxed up, sent to the store. At Dillard’s a nice lady put it on a hanger, steamed it, matched it with a scarlet tee shirt, then sold it to me and rang up my purchase, which went through a computer banking system. A lot of people were involved in getting this shirt into my greedy American hands. I paid $95.00 for it. I love the shirt. But I suspect I won’t be buying another one anytime soon. I’ll have to make it last.

So the second way I decided to confront the money deal was by tracking my spending, and then telling the truth about it. The tracking didn’t bother me. All my money is earned by my work, and I have not taken a penny from anyone since I was 17 and went to work as a Nurse’s Aide in a nursing home to help pay for college, which I managed through student loans. I never saw a penny from my ex, and have raised my son on my own. What I have I’ve earned through my work, so I get to spend it the way I want. But here’s the rub. I feel a little awkward talking about how much I spend, and it’s clear there are several areas of imbalance that suggest to me areas needed for improvement.

So yesterday was my day off. Since coming back to Boise, I switched from employee to Independent Contractor, and I’m earning significantly less. Also I have much more free time and I am 200% happier. But on a day off, I’m not earning any money. So yesterday I had nothing coming in. What did I have going out? Here’s the calculation:

Car Wash: $6.00
Jiffy Lube to change the oil and rotate tires: $58.33
Fill up the tank: $28.45
Barnes and Noble: $98.75—three books, At Night We Walk in Circles by Daniel Alarcon; Red Sky in Morning by Paul Lynch; Aimless Love by Billy Collins. Plus a magazine, Modern Farmer, and a donated book to the kid’s book drive, and a tiny blank notebook and a box of Godiva truffles. I nearly didn’t write about the truffles but I’m committed to the truth. The truffles were gone by last night. Yum.
Grand China Buffett for lunch: $22.00
Son’s haircut and “product” plus tip: $40.00- this last is my Christmas present. He cuts his hair into a flat-top as a gift to me every year for Christmas.
Dog food and a new ball for Oscar: $28.75 (what?!)
Amazon instant video: $1.99 for new episode of Elementary. Developing serious crush on Mycroft.

I can’t even bear to add this all up. Now, don’t assume I grew up with money, or that I’ve always had enough, just because I’m throwing my money around like a sailor in Tijuana. (Wait a minute, I’ve been a sailor in Tijuana!) I haven’t, and I worry about money as much as the next single mom who is the head of a household and the only person bringing money into the family. I just don’t like to give it any power over me, and when I have money, I like to go to the bookstore.

Is there a point to all of this, other than I need to quit spending money? Secrets are dangerous. Secrets give people and things power. When we don’t talk about money, we invest it with a power it doesn’t have. Money is just a tool. Sometimes it’s the right tool.

I don’t have the resources to grow my own cotton and mill the beautiful plaid flannel, though I could cut out and sew myself a shirt. Money was the tool I needed to buy that shirt. But it has no intrinsic value other than its use as a tool. We can drive a nail into the wall with our shoe, or we can use a hammer. The hammer is the right tool.

So as an example: You have twenty dollars. You need medicine that cost $18.00. You have enough money.

You have a hundred dollars. You need medicine that cost $150.00. Even though the hundred is more, it’s not as much—because it doesn’t do the job you need it to do. Money’s only value is in its use as a tool.

I read that married couples fight about money more than anything else, even the kids. I believe it. But I can’t remember reading a single fight about money in a story. I want to get to know these guys, these characters, really get to know them. So I’m going to let them talk about money. The characters say it better than I can. Here’s the scene from the new book where John and Gabriel talk about money:

“Grey lives down here,” Gabriel said, pointing to some new high-rise condos. “I know those things start at about $450,000. Trust fund baby,” Gabriel said, smiling down at John. “He’s got a very limited experience of the world. He wears blinders made out of American money. I think in his heart he wants to be a fashion designer and wear outfits with fuchsia feathers and kitten heels in the privacy of his own high-dollar condo, but being gay was the only thing he could expect his family to swallow with grace. They embraced his being gay, as long as he still was planning to go to law school. That’s how he saw it, anyway.”

“He never thought about the service?”

Gabriel shook his head. “No one in his family served, as far as he knows. Besides, he says the uniforms are ‘too butch.’ Which is okay to hang with, but not if you have to wear one, too.”

John felt himself grinning, and he reached down, slid his hand over Gabriel’s fine, curvy ass. “Oh, yeah, very butch. Maybe one day we can take Grey to see the Army Rangers. I have a feeling he will reevaluate his definition of ‘butch’.”

“That would be fun. But not quite yet, John.” Gabriel slid an arm over John’s shoulder. “I’m getting a lot of work out of him at the moment. If he realized I’m not the meanest bastard in the jungle, he’d probably defect. As it is, he thinks he’s being very eye spy and is having ladies lunches with my wife.”

“With Martha? Really? What’s that about?”

“I think she’s wondering when we’re going broke, and is pumping him for information about the firm. She doesn’t want to ask me, but she’s worried about money. He likes to gossip and doesn’t realize she’s playing him. He may be a trust-fund baby, but he’s not as bright as Martha.”

“She must have heard me say that information is a critical tool for the warrior-philosopher.”

“She roped him into lunch with a different tool. A Coach tote bag in lemon-yellow leather, with a silk scarf tied to the handles that he actually squealed over. She propped it up on his desk when she came into the office. It was a bit of a fuck-you to me, since I told her we needed to stop buying Coach handbags and pay off the credit cards. She said it was her divorce bag, the last decent bag she would be able to afford for years to come, and then she asked if I was going to stop buying hot air balloons. And, I mean, she had a point. So I dropped it.”

“Women have handbags for different occasions? Not just to match their outfits?”

Gabriel slid him a look, a slow grin. “Yeah. They do.”

“How’s the practice?”

“Running on empty. The lawyers, the bank account, but mostly the clients. Everyone hanging on by their fingernails. I blame the economy.”

“Who doesn’t? That seems to be the refrain of the day. Is this what you want to do, Gabriel?”

“For now. Maybe not forever. I can’t say I enjoy watching every penny so close.”

“You’re worried about money, Martha’s worried about money. Are you and I going to talk about money?”

Gabriel wrapped an arm around John’s shoulder. “John, I’m doing the best I can.”

“I know, Gabriel. We’re sharing a bed, and we’re sharing a bathroom, and I wouldn’t hesitate to share your toothbrush, but neither one of us has mentioned sharing a checking account. Are there still some things we can’t talk about?”

“It’s….” Gabriel hesitated. “I admit that is harder than I anticipated. I don’t know why.”

“We’ll need to address this at some point, I suppose,” John said, “if we want to move forward.”

“Move forward?”

John pulled him around so he could look into Gabriel’s dark eyes. “So we can move from being lovers to being a family. If that’s what you wanted. Maybe you already have a family, and you don’t want another one and you need to keep it simple. I don’t know, Gabriel. I’m feeling my way blind here. But we seem to be dancing around money a little bit.”

“I’m not paying anything for my share of the house. I only pay for groceries when I go to the store. It makes me feel a little uncomfortable,” Gabriel said. “I don’t want to feel like I’m freeloading.”

“I’m thinking we ought to pool our resources so we can take care of our big extended family together, and you’re thinking about giving me half of the electric bill. We’re not quite in the same place in our thinking on this. I hate organizing the money. I was hoping I could turn over the entire thing to you to manage. A little added benefit of having you in my bed in the morning, sex and financial management rolled into one hot pilot.”

“What, you want me to manage your investments and everything?”

“I’m not really into investments. I do have a savings account.”

“John, where’s all your money? Do you… I mean, you have been keeping some back all these years, right? For a rainy day?”

“Well, I assume the federal government is not going to stop pay to retirees anytime soon, and I do have the savings, and some is set aside for Kim.”

Gabriel was studying him, a frown between his eyes. “John….”

“Money was never important to me, Gabriel. I can’t get excited about it. And, if I’m being honest, I assumed I would always be able to work, that I’d be getting a paycheck. How did I end up at fifty-two, unemployed? But a warrior lives a simple life, right? I mean, how much do we need?”

“Yeah, you need me to take over the money. We’ll work it out, boss. I feel like my plate’s overflowing right now.” He pulled John close. “Thanks for giving me some time. And some space.”