Things, things and more things, bombarding every sense. Year end giving, holiday tipping, cars that start making weird noises in the cold, heating bills, coats with holes, snow removal, tuition bills. It makes me anxious just to list them. But I don't think that scarcity of resources is the only thing that makes money such a source of worry or friction. I think that more than perhaps anything else, our attitude towards money is a mirror into one's soul. Having to think about it, therefore, means having to stare down at the bones of our values, or perhaps the ugly zits of our being. And for those of you readers who have no soul acne, my apologies. This rant may not apply.
Truth is, we rarely find ourselves probing the baggage we have around money. If you don't like sex or you hate your mother, off to the shrink with you. But if you freak out about your upcoming car inspection or tend to undertip, no one will question your sanity. It's perfectly acceptable to be concerned about not having enough money since not many of us are so flush that we can afford to be nonplussed when faced with having to expend more than is coming in.
But although there are certainly situations when a bad decision or a faulty timing belt may mean some serious belt-tightening, I venture to guess that the majority of money neurosis is tied less to having to do without and more to something much deeper.
I've known many people who love to spend top dollar. They search out the highest quality, most expensive product to buy. The $450 lawn chair, the $150 wallet, the $3000 speaker, the $5000 bicycle. I understand that. It's what the Cadillac was to the old man with the white shoes. It means you have the best and that you deserve the best. For many of these folk, this buying power is first generation.
Then there are people like me -- obsessed with getting the best deal. I would never buy anything full price and might torture myself for days if I bought something and then found it for less.
Sometimes I attribute this to love of serendipity. If something is a good deal, then it was meant to be. Sometimes I think it's guilt for having the good fortune to live like so few can in this world. I know I have this lovely chair, rug, shoes, bike, car, computer, house....but HEY I got it wholesale.
As the child of Holocaust survivors, I also have this fear that just because you're comfy today, doesn't mean that you can count on that tomorrow. It's not that I think that Nazis will seize my bank account. But it does mean that I think that having money in the bank, or even in hand for that matter, is meaningless. It could all be gone with one nuclear bomb. I admit that I think the next 911 is just around the corner in the form of an apocalypse that will level the playing field. Only the hardy, the brave and those with very useful skills will survive. So maximize whatever you have now. It won't last.
It's a terrible thing that the wealthiest amongst us tend to be the cheapest as well. Logically, it should be the other way around, but it rarely is. I think it's because they are more immersed in the world of things. They can renovate their bathrooms, they can buy a subzero stove, they can afford the softest sweater and the lightest tent. They can get the highest fidelity audio system and the most exquisite gourmet meal. At every turn they know how much awaits them -- but only if they retain their wealth. And so they feel -- more than the rest of us -- how much there is to lose without these things. The golf clubs that won't hit as far, the flat screen tv that with duller colors , the car without heated seats, the sheets that feel rough at 250 threads per inch, and the public school that won't offer easy entry into the Ivys.
And why is it exactly that makes it less taboo to ask your friend about her love life than her paycheck. Raise your hand. How many of you know how much anyone earns outside of your own household. Why is that? Is it that we define ourselves by the size of our paychecks? Is it that the number is so finite, so definitive, so crass -- like wearing a pendant around your neck that lists your weight and height? Do we fear the shame of learning we make more than someone who works far harder than we do? Are we afraid we will be jealous and then judging if we find we earn less? All the above?
Every job asks that you have this. No one will admit that they don't. It's maybe one step up from saying you drink too much. Yeah, I don't really pay attention to details. They're too boring. It's not worth my time to be painstakingly careful. Sorry.
Truth is, we're not all detail-oriented people. More correctly, we don't all pay attention to the same details. But some of us just tend to cut corners more than others. We're just not wired that way. And I, for one, am ready to shed my shame, along with the fact that I'm not a morning person. In fact, the world would probably be a safer place if more people felt safe admitting that they needed to be double-checked -- needed to be proof-read, needed to have someone inspect the bolts they just installed, or the meds they just prescribed. You know, you can be a very talented person -- who just happens to live in the big picture.
And note here, that one should never assume having a DOP for the job is always a plus. The DOP, by virtue of her over-attentiveness to minutiae, is sometimes like a camera permanently set up closeups. Not so good for the breathtaking mountain shots.
But if you do want to hire a DOP -- and some jobs demand it -- how can you make sure you're getting one since no one will admit to being a non-DOP? I've always been a fan of the trick questions. Here are some suggestions:
1. Do you enjoy bird-watching (most DOPs don't)
2. How do you rate yourself as a gift wrapper? (non-DOPs are big fans of the gift bag)
3. Have you ever cooked anything using a recipe from the Silver Palate Cookbook (with a minimum of 25 ingredients, not a big fave amongst us non-DOPs)
Are you a DOP or a non-DOP?
I'm embarrassed to admit that I've always been a big fan of analyzing people in term of two defining values: People who play golf and people who don't. People who live to work and people who work to live. People who love the Internet and people who don't really care. Recently, I've started thinking about dependency and independency.
Most people have some of both and behave differently under different circumstances. We may be extraordinarily self- sufficient at work, for example. Assertive, take charge, even control-freakish. Then at home, with our partners, we may be far more needy, wanting someone else to take care of us so we can feel coddled or even babied.
What fascinates me is how we react to this imbalance in others. Are you particularly allergic to needy people? People who need more of the spotlight than others, people who make a big mess out of their lives and then need others to clean up the mess?
At the risk of sounding like a pop psychologist,I think one's own reaction to neediness in others is always tied to one's own neediness. Maybe the more we wish we could be out about our inner big fat baby, the more we resent others who so unreticently exercise their right to be one.
Sometimes I think the world would be a better place if everyone wore little visible devices on their sleeves that measured insecurity, neediness, or even shyness. If you saw someone acting rudely, but you noticed he had a high shyness index, you'd be more likely to cut him some slack. And perhaps when you saw the insecurity meter flashing on that know-it-all egomaniac, you'd think to yourself "golly, this guy's just a quivering puppy who just needs a hug."
Or not.
