This one is not for you

Dear Scott,
 
I’ve wanted to email you this for a while, but unfortunately this message is not only for you but for someone very important in my life: my nana. For the past four years she has cut out your articles from the paper and mailed them to me. Your advice, as well as a copy of your book, not only helped me out of a financially stressful life but gave me the skills to buy my first home at 28 years old, all by myself. I know my nana will read this because she will be cutting it out to put in a little envelope for me. To both of you I say thank you so much for setting me up for life by treading my own path. I love you, Nana. (You too, Scott!)
 
Charlotte
 
Hey Charlotte,
 
Clearing the financial runway in your twenties means you’ll reach cruising altitude much earlier in life … and it means you can choose where you’re going to land. Well done.
 
Yet this answer really isn’t for you.
 
It’s for your nana – and for the hundreds of thousands of kind and thoughtful Barefooters like her who have cut out this column, or bought my books, and handed them to the people they care about.
 
In truth, my message hasn’t changed in 20 years. It’s people like your nana, who put it under the nose of someone who it is new for, that make all the difference.

Scott.

My Sister is a Leech

Hi Scott,
 
My older sister is 41 and still heavily dependent on my retired parents. She recently lost her job and has no savings, and also has mental health issues. My parents keep bailing her out when she runs out of money, but I’m concerned they are now using their retirement funds for this. She won’t take steps like reading Barefoot to help her out of her financial funk, and when she does have money she blows it on takeaway food and online shopping. How can my parents stop enabling her and help her become financially independent at such a late age?
 
Tanya
 
Hi Tanya,
 
Here’s how I’d look at it:
 
Your parents and your sister are in a beaten-up old Kingswood on a long, bumpy drive.
 
None of them are paying any attention to where they’ll end up … they’re just glad the old banger keeps on keeping on.
 
You’re not in the car with them, Tanya.
 
So what can you do?
 
Three things.
 
First, show them where they’ll end up: your parents’ money will eventually be gone (even if she gets an inheritance after they pass) and your sister will likely be stone cold broke.
 
Second, offer to help your sister help herself (again), perhaps by referring her to a financial counsellor or working through the Barefoot Steps with her.
 
Finally, let everyone know that you will not be taking your parents’ place in the driver’s seat when the old banger runs out of juice!

Scott

My Parents Have NO IDEA

Dear Scott,

All my life I was under the impression my parents were wealthy. My father was a partner in a law firm, and there were always extravagant annual overseas trips, fancy cars, beautiful houses, antique furniture, etc. They are now 70, retired, have no super left, are on the pension, and have $120,000 of debt ($80,000 credit card, $40,000 car loan). They used up almost every last bit of their savings, and all of their super, to buy their current home outright once my dad retired.

Yet they keep spending! They don’t seem to realise the severity of their situation. Mum still goes to the beauty salon to have all sorts of expensive procedures done, they still have two cars (one of them a Lexus SUV) despite only needing one, and now they’re going to get a reverse mortgage to release some equity from their home, just so that they can afford to live! I’m so shocked and frustrated, but I don’t know how to help them, because my dad is too proud to listen to me, and my mum is too embarrassed.

As I said, they’re only 70, and I’m afraid they’re going to end up homeless with nothing but debt that they have no way of paying off. I’m also concerned they will be coming to me for money if they have big medical bills down the track. While I love them and want them to be OK, I would resent throwing money at people who have always lived beyond their means while my husband and I are super-careful with our money. What should I do?

Worried Daughter

Hello Worried Daughter,

What should you do?

I think you should follow my lead: I see people doing stupid things with money all the time … it’s like I have a sixth sense for financial stupidity. Yet I have learned to resist the reflex action of going all Judge Judy on them.

Why?

Because they’re not asking for my advice, and it’s none of my goddamn business.

If people do ask for advice, I mostly tell them how great it feels to be in control, and how surprisingly easy it is to build momentum after you have a few dedicated Date Nights.

Just know this: deep-seated behavioural change is hard, especially since your parents have been doing dumb financial stuff their entire lives. Yet for some reason my approach has worked with hundreds of thousands of people, even people like your parents.

So that’s where I’d start: encourage them to read my book, or listen to it on a long car trip.

Will it work?

I don’t know.

Yet the one thing I know for sure is that finger-waving and shaming won’t work. Don’t let money jeopardise the most important relationships you have.

Scott.

My Kid has NO IDEA

Hi Scott,

In 2008 I purchased a photo shop, and my parents redrew their mortgage so I could do this. It was initially $65,000, but then over a few years it built up to $120,000. I ran it successfully for a few years but, as digital media grew and prints became less popular, the business slowly went down the gurgler, and closed in 2016. Since then I have been chipping away at the debt and it is down to $61,000, but the strain on my relationship with my dad is not great. He gets so upset if he sees me or my partner spending money on pleasure because he thinks we should just focus on the debt. I do want the debt gone but I also don’t want to miss out on precious time to make memories with my kids. How do I get it paid quickly but still enjoy life?

Kelly

Hi Kelly

Oh god.

So this was a terrible idea to start off with, and now it’s a festering sore.

If I were in your shoes I’d want to get rid of the loan from your father as soon as humanly possible.

Can you refinance it with a traditional lender?

In your situation I’d be willing to pay a higher interest rate if it meant I could save the relationship with my father.

Take this as a lesson (one your dad has probably learned by now): if you can afford it, give money away to your family with no strings attached, but don’t ever lend to (or go guarantor for) people you love.

Scott.

A Mother’s Tragedy

Scott

My son tragically took his life earlier this year and I need help sorting out his estate. Nick was 30 and was fighting for custody of his two children, aged seven and three, as their mother is an ice addict (as is her new partner). Her mother is now fighting her own daughter for custody! My grandkids have not only lost their dad but also have been traumatised by neglect and abuse from their mother and the new partner. I am still grieving but I am having to sort out some sort of investment for the children for their future. I have nearly half a million dollars from Nick’s estate, and my ex-husband and I are the beneficiaries. How do I set up an investment, and what should I do?

Nicole

Hi Nicole,

My heart breaks for you, and your grandchildren.

So I think you need to go and see a lawyer, pronto.

There are two issues:

First, to see if you can get custody of your grandkids.

Second, to protect the half a million bucks and ensure that it benefits your son’s kids.

My Barefoot lawyer, Dr Brett Davies, tells me that the rules are complex and different in each state. But, typically, one-third of a deceased person’s legacy would go to their spouse and two-thirds to their children. So you may want to talk to your lawyer about bringing an action so that 100% of the money goes to the kids, to be held in trust by the grandparents.

As for where you’d invest the money, it depends on who gets custody (also another thing to get legal help with), and what the day-to-day costs would be to look after the kids. Once you’ve worked this out, you could invest a portion of the money long term for their future, probably via a low-cost high-growth share fund from the likes of Vanguard.

Good luck.

Scott.

Reminder: I first wrote about this years ago and highlighted the low costs. Today there are better deals on offer. How do I know? Because my readers constantly email me about them! So before you do anything, do a quick google.

Our Kids Don’t Know How Broke We Are

Hi Scott,

My family is in a highly stressful situation. Currently our children all go to private schools that cost us a combined $35,000 a year, yet we are struggling because I am the only one working, as my husband has been out of work for over six months. I can’t tell my children that they will need to leave their school because we can’t afford it! However, we have absolutely no money to spare. We are desperate. We have paid for the first term, but the new bill will be issued in April. We are extremely stressed. What can we do?

Pari

Hi Pari,

Oh boy, what a stressful situation.

It’s all wrapped up in the emotions of guilt and shame and the desire to provide for your kids.

So the make-or-break factor is your husband getting work … any work, even if it’s not in his area of expertise. You just need money coming in the door.

And you’re not the first parents who have been in this situation. The key with all creditors is communication: let the school know what’s going on and ask for their help.

Yet you’ve probably already tried that.

So here’s another way to think about it.

Politicians often say you should never waste a good crisis – and it’s actually good advice. Pari, you’re in a crisis right now, so it’s a good idea to put everything on the table and look at your options.

And the bottom line is this: if you can’t afford it … you can’t afford it.

Putting your kids into a decent public school won’t damage them. In fact, if they’re old enough, talking to them straight about the realities of your financial situation could be one of the great learning lessons of their life.

Scott.

Help Me Get My Hubby’s Money

Hi Scott,

Two weeks ago, my husband had a workplace injury that left him with a shattered skull and in an induced coma. He is now in an acquired brain injury unit. He is making progress each day but the long-term impacts on him, his work and our life have yet to be discussed. I only work two days a week as we have two young children. The question is, as we have separate bank accounts, how do I gain access to his account? And what do you suggest I do to support my family financially?

Kelly

Hi Kelly,

What an absolute disaster!

I can’t imagine how stressful this would be for you … so I’m going to be very specific on what you should do.

First, you need to lawyer up.

Provided your husband was not a contractor, his employer must, by law, have Workers Compensation insurance.

Here’s the dance: you want the maximum payout, whereas the insurer wants the minimum. That’s why you need a workplace compensation lawyer to provide you counsel.

Second, hopefully your husband has both a medical and financial power of attorney (POA), so you can act on his behalf, and if not, get them written up. That’ll allow you to access his bank accounts.

Finally, after you’ve put the kids to bed, pour yourself a cuppa and write this five-part ‘breathing room’ letter:

1. Explain what has happened to your husband.

2. Write emotionally about the effect his accident has had on you and your kids.

3. Describe what the loss of income has meant for you so close to Christmas.

4. Ask for a minimum three-month moratorium on your payments (so you won’t have to pay anything till February 2022). That will give you breathing room while you explore compensation arrangements and apply for any Centrelink payments you may be entitled to.

5. Attach any workplace or medical reports.

Bring this letter when you see your lawyer and let them look over it.

Then send it to your bank, your insurer, your utilities providers, and any other companies that will be charging you big bills in the next few months. (If you’re not sure where to send them, Google the provider’s name and ‘hardship department email’).

If any of your creditors give you any pushback, email me back and I’ll sort it out for you.

Scott.

Here’s Something SHOCKING

Scott,

My mother has been diagnosed with dementia and will be going into 24-hour care. She has a caravan-park-living boyfriend who is a raging alcoholic and has increasingly isolated her from everyone and everything. Mum was never a drinker, but he has religiously fed her alcohol every morning from 9am onward! On the very first night I met him 10 years ago, virtually the first thing he said to me was, “You don’t have to worry about your inheritance — I don’t want anything from your mother”.

I found this strange at the time, and with recent developments I believe he’s been playing the ‘long game’ from day one.

You see, Mum owns her own house, solely purchased by her. But (according to her friends) he has been trying to gain access to her bank account and trying to get her to sell her house. He’s also taken her to her lawyer to ‘update’ her paperwork.

He has told everyone that Mum and I (and my siblings) are estranged, but he won’t allow me to visit, he sorts her mail, he screens her calls, and he hangs up on me when I call. I am financially sound and have never wanted or expected anything from Mum. As far as I’m concerned, her house is hers, and it’s her equity to support her for whatever time she has left. Is there a way to make sure the boyfriend doesn’t take everything, leaving her high and dry?

Nella

Hi Nella,

Congratulations, I believe you’ve just asked the longest question I’ve ever published.

The first thing I’d do is ask your mother if she has signed an enduring power of attorney (POA).

Explain to her that whoever is named on the POA can make financial decisions on her behalf, like accessing her bank account or selling off her property. Obviously, while she’s of sound mind the person holding her POA should only act as directed by her. Yet when and if your mother loses her mental facilities the POA continues on …

So what can you do if he’s already stitched up the POA?

Well, I spoke to my lawyer (Dr Brett Davies) and he said you could go to court and apply for an overriding ‘administration order’, which in most cases overrides and replaces the POA.

The court will hear the stories from both sides and decide who is best to control your mother’s assets while she lacks the mental capacity to do so. Even better? The administration order has the ability to outline who your mum can associate with.

Boom!

Scott.

The best investment I've ever made

Today I want to tell you about the best investment I ever made.

It was always going to be highly speculative — a total punt — that could have blown up spectacularly:

In July we set out for a family road trip: all six of us (including a teething baby!) in a motorhome.

The plan was to do the East Coast, getting up as high as The Daintree before heading back to Victoria.

Yet each time I checked the Victorian news there always seemed to be a giant picture of Dan Andrews, head cocked to one side, looking perplexed and angry.

We were heading back … but to what?

Rioting in the streets. Lockdowns. Earthquakes. Oh, and COVID. Lots’a COVID.
So we decided that now was a very good time to do a lap of Australia.

Well, actually, I decided that, and then I put it to the family.

Liz promptly pooh-poohed the idea as she was worried the kids would miss too much school. Yet the kids wanted to keep the adventure going, so they came up with a great idea:

They would film a weekly TV show they called ‘RV News’.

The eight-year-old was the host, and he’d throw to his little roving reporters (his brothers and sister). Together they researched where we were going, talked to people, and showed off the attractions to their audience (consisting of their grandparents, their classmates back home, and, many years from now, their own kids).

We ended up getting 13 episodes in the can. Now that’s great for the kids, but let me tell you about some of the saucy stuff that didn’t make it into ‘RV News’.

The Good

We kept it real on the road, often free camping.

One night we stayed on a 20,000-acre cattle station where they let you camp by their horse stables for a few bucks.

During the afternoon, the station owner drove past and must have taken pity on us — a big family sitting in the stinking hot Queensland sun — and generously invited us up to the homestead for dinner.

However, when we arrived, his wife stared at us in horror and promptly disappeared into another room.

Weird.

As I sat down at the table, she re-emerged and placed a copy of a local women’s magazine in front of me. She’d opened it to a page where she’d been interviewed about her life on a large property. One of the questions the interviewer had asked her was, “If you could have dinner with any celebrity, who would it be?”

She had said, “The Barefoot Investor”.

Throughout the trip I met plenty of Barefooters, and it was always a treat (even the oldies who took photos of me like I was a zoo animal — they’d barrel up unannounced, stick their phone in my face, and then spend the next few minutes trying to work out how to take a photo).

The Bad

We were doing our best to stay one step ahead of the COVID lockdowns. And the talk around the campsites was that getting into Western Australia was as hard as crossing North Korea’s demilitarised zone.

And WA didn’t disappoint.

To enter the state you were required to spend a minimum 14 days in the (low-risk) Northern Territory. Fair enough. We dutifully followed the rules and were approved, which came in the form of a downloaded QR code via their G2G app.

We approached the WA border — which is literally out the middle of nowhere— and were met by three police officers. It was 40 degrees, the baby was crying, and the kids were melting down.

I wound down my window, smiled, and showed one of the police officers the QR code.

“We don’t care about the QR app”, she said.

“Sorry?”

“It could be faked”, she said sternly.

“How? I mean, it’s your own app, right?”

She shook her head dismissively.

“I want to see the photos on your phone … all of them.

“And your bank accounts.”

I stared at her blankly.

She must have thought I was a few stubbies short of a six-pack, so she spoke slowly but forcefully:

“Log into your bank account. Log into your personal pictures. Hand me your phone.”

So I did.

The policewoman took my phone and stepped away from our motorhome. About 15 minutes later, she started looking agitated.

“Tell me about THIS photo”, she said, holding my phone up to my face.

“Uh-oh”, I said.

“UH-OH?!”, she parroted back, her eyes bulging.

My phone had incorrectly tagged a recent photo as having been taken in Queensland, not the NT.

“It’s Apple’s ‘uh-oh’, not mine, officer”, I laughed.

The policewoman did not laugh.

At this point Liz leaned over, elbowed me in the ribs, and politely explained the IT error to the officer.

She listened, grumbled, but had no choice but to wave us through.

The Jackpot

I’ll tell you, I have never, ever felt wealthier than I did on our trip.

I got to totally unplug from everything and (in the words of my editor) “drop off the face of the planet”.

(It’s true, after not hearing from me for months the newspaper had all but given up on me ever returning.)

Yet what I earned in return was the privilege of spending large, uninterrupted dollops of time with my family.

See, as a parent, the days are long but the years are quick ... and you only get a very short time to really influence your kids. Because when they turn 18 you have to share that influence — with their friends, with their bank, with their Instagram account, with their boss. None of whom care as much as you do.

Thankfully, life is simpler on the road. It has to be. You’re literally strapped into a confined space. There can only be one song playing at a time (Johnny Cash for me, Adele for Liz, and The Lion King for the kids). And there’s only so much you can cram into a motorhome when you have six people living in it.

What we discovered was that we didn’t need or miss our ‘stuff’ at home. It was a diversion. More space often means more junk. More places to hide.

Instead, we traded convenience and possessions for freedom and adventure … and a funny thing happened. The petty fighting stopped. The outbursts stopped (even from Dad). The kids pitched in and we became a united crew, all looking out for each other.

That’s not to say it was easy … far from it!

When the baby would wake in the middle of the night teething (most nights), we would all wake up. Each morning we’d find ourselves like John Lennon and Yoko Ono with six people in our tiny bed. The kids lived out of their school backpacks. We all wore the same stuff for days on end.

We’d pull up at a campsite and bemused grey nomads would look at us like clowns piling out of a Mini Minor:

“Look, George, there’s another one! And … a baby! All living in that tiny motorhome!”

“You’re brave!”, they’d jokingly tell us.

Maybe.

On the final day of the trip, we quizzed the kids about what was their best experience.

Our (often painfully shy) six-year-old piped up and said:

“I think I’m braver than I was before this trip.”

Tread Your Own Path!

Thanks for reading,

Scott.

My Friend’s Husband Wants To Murder Her

Scott

I have a young friend who is married and has three young children. She has an AVO against her violent husband, who threatens to kill her. The AVO has been breached. She is NOT divorced and no financial settlement has been agreed to yet. The husband has the children three days a week, and the court date to sort this out is soon. I see that under the Superannuation Industry (Supervision) Act a “spouse and ex-spouse” can get all their partner’s super, plus death benefit. What happens to my friend’s super payout should her husband kill her? How can she protect her super so that all funds would go to her children? Also, if the house is owned as joint tenants, my understanding is that the title passes on death to the survivor, is that right? I hope you can shed some light on this serious matter.

Susan

Hi Susan,

This is a very serious matter, so let me shed some light on it for you:

Her financial affairs won’t matter much if she’s dead.

The ONLY thing that matters right now is her safety (and the safety of her three young kids).

Susan, now is not the time to fret about her finances, but to stop her from being murdered.

Each week, on average, in Australia, a woman is killed by her current or former partner.

All too often women in this situation feel trapped and helpless. They are not. There are people who will help her and look after her, and they’re available 24/7 by calling 1800 RESPECT (1800 737 732).

We can — and will — sort out her finances later. Part of the value of this column is showing people each week that they are capable of moving monetary mountains.

For the moment, though, do whatever you can to keep her safe.

Scott.

This Will Be My Last Email for a While

For the past few weeks I’ve had a Billy Joel song in my head:

“You may be right … I may be crazy ... But it just may be a lunatic you’re looking for.”

You see, I’m writing this to you hunched over in the back of a motorhome that’s currently parked in the seaside town of Tin Can Bay, Queensland.

Liz and I have embarked on an epic family adventure: a 3,500-kilometre road trip that has taken us from the family farm in Romsey, Victoria, all the way up to Cooktown, Queensland. For three (or four) months. In a Winnebago. With our four kids.

“Turn out the lights, don’t try to save me!” as Billy sings.

We actually took off a month earlier than we planned … we made the snap decision to make our getaway a few weeks ago, sensing that the borders may close.

In truth it only added to the sense of adventure. After all, this was months in the making; earlier this year I went to the post office and bought a huge map of Australia and sprawled it out on the kitchen table.

Planning out the trip — pinning lots of thumbtacks on the map and googling interesting places — is almost as much fun as going. We’re going to the Big Banana, the Big Mango, heck we’re even going to the Big Bloody Prawn!

I’ve never seen the kids so excited … well, until last night anyway.

Late last night my eight-year-old stirred from his sleep and noticed the glow of my laptop.

“What are you doing, Dad?” he whispered.

“I’m writing my column … and responding to a heap of emails”, I sighed.

“Oh”, he said.

Silence.

“You work really hard, Dad. So I guess you can’t take the time off and spend it with us.”

I closed my laptop and stared into the darkness. He snuggled up and gave me a hug.

I realised that for almost 18 years I’ve ended every column with the tagline “Tread Your Own Path!”

This morning I’ve decided it’s time to actually live it. I’ll be taking a break from these columns for a while, and investing in my kids. I’ll catch you on the flipside.

Scott Pape

The Bitcoin-Plated Coffin

Hey Scott,

We are starting up investment bonds for our child’s future (and plan to have more kids too). I noticed the provider also has a funeral bond option. Is it worth it for a guy in his thirties? Or should I put, say, $10,000 of cold, hard cash per person in my fireproof safe to cover such an event? As we know, Mr Death is awaiting his timeslot.

John

Hi John,

All this future planning has got you fired up, hasn’t it, mate?!

Well, you do not need to invest in a funeral bond.

Here’s why: any money you put in can only be used for your funeral. You can’t take it out earlier.

So, if you sink $10,000 into a funeral bond today, and let compound interest do its thing, your funeral in 50 or 60 years’ time will be absolutely epic! With the eventual bereavement bounty you will have you could afford to be carried out in a bitcoin-plated coffin as the Rolling Stones play a live acoustic set. (Oh wait.)

According to MoneySmart, funerals cost anywhere from $4,000 for something basic to around $15,000 for something fancier. Somewhere in the middle seems about right, right?

My advice: put your energy and efforts into ensuring that you and your wife have adequate life and disability insurance instead.

Scott.

Our Kids Have No Idea How Rich We Are

Hi Scott,

My husband and I worked really hard, started a successful business, and are now in a very fortunate position. Every single dollar we have, we have earned ourselves. My question is this: how can we ensure we instil good money values in our three children? At this stage they have no idea of our financial situation. What can we do to ensure they know that money is earnt?

Thanks, Alison

Hi Alison,

Great question!

I’ve thought about this deeply, because my kids are in the same sort of boat.

(The other day my wife was in a shopping mall when our three-year-old said “Look, there’s Daddy!” My wife corrected her — “No, Daddy’s on the farm” — before looking up and seeing my smiling mug on a billboard.)

Here are three things I’ve thought about.

First, and most importantly: our kids won’t be inheriting our investments.

Instead, each of our kids will receive a ‘Barefoot Ladder’ — meaning we’ll match, dollar for dollar, whatever they can save towards a (safe) car or a house deposit. Other than that, they’re on their own.

Second, never talk about your wealth in dollar figures (kids have no context or frame of reference).

Instead, spend time talking about, and showing them, how much you enjoy working hard, and the meaning and purpose you get from the work you do. (That’s why my kids tag along to my book signings.)

Finally, when you boil the parenting thing down, all you really want is for your kids to be hardworking and kind. If they have ‘get up and go’ and are caring human beings, you’ve done your job!

The best way to achieve that isn’t by lecturing them. It’s partly by modelling these behaviours yourself, and partly by providing them with a weekly opportunity to roll up their sleeves and experience working hard, spending wisely, and giving generously.

You Got This!

Scott.

Fingers in the Jam Jar

Hi Scott,

When kid #1 was born, I put $10,000 into an index fund for him. Kid #2 is now due and I’ve done the same. I have not set up the money in a trust, though. I DO NOT want to hand over the Jam Jar when they turn 18, unless the funds would help them with a home, business, etc. So do I have to sign them over at 18 to avoid capital gains tax? Or can I sign them over at 25, 30 or whatever?

Simon

Hi Simon,

Yes, if you bought them via a share broker, they’ll automatically transfer to your kids when they turn 18, and they’ll be free to cash them in and head off on a bender to Bali.

(An alternative to this is to purchase your index funds either in a family trust or via an investment bond, which allows you to nominate the age your kids can inherit the money.)

So you’ve just created a trust fund kid, right?

Wrong!

Here’s how I’m doing it with my kids.

Don’t hide the fact that you’ve invested money for them: it’s an awesome opportunity to show them how compound interest works.

But do let them know there will be NO handouts (and no Dad-sponsored Bali benders).

Instead, set up what I call the ‘Barefoot Ladder’:

Use the money to match them, dollar for dollar, for something they’re saving for: a car, a small business, a house deposit, plastic surgery (well, maybe not). Either way, you choose what it is — and they work for it. And the harder they save, the more they get.

Scott.

Night-Night, Barefoot

Hi Scott,

I have been a proud Barefooter for years. Last night my three-year-old son requested ‘The Doggie Book’ for his bedtime story. Thank you for being such a positive influence in our household.

Megan

Hey Megan,

That’s awesome! Take that, Bluey!

Scott.

Thanks, Mum

Hi Scott

I will be forever grateful to you for removing the noose around the neck of both me and my mum. A couple of years ago I read your book and was hooked — I set up my buckets and paid down my credit cards. Then I realised I could also help my mum. She had just hit 70, was desperate to stop working, had little super, had credit card debt, still had a mortgage, and was being crippled by strata and council rates. On New Year’s Day of 2018 I sat her down and suggested she read your book, which she did in a couple of hours. Before we knew it, her credit cards were gone and her dreaded bills were covered. Most amazingly, she sold her place, paid off the mortgage, and retired to the country. Honestly, the best gift you could give your mum is to rid her of money stress. (P.S. I’ve just purchased my own first home — something I thought would never happen.)

Thanks, Jess

Hi Jess,

What a fantastic story!

Let’s repeat that last line so everybody gets it: “The best gift you could give your mum is to rid her of money stress.”

Not flowers. Not chocolates. Not Apple gear.

You know who would love this idea?

Anna Jarvis.

Anna is none other than the Mother of Mother’s Day.

She created the first Mother’s Day in 1908, to honour her late mother … and all mothers.

Yet, just like Coca-Cola hijacked Christmas (ever wondered why Santa’s dressed in Coke’s corporate colours?), it didn’t take long for corporations to cash in and commercialise Mother’s Day.

But she wasn’t one to stand down; instead she fought them every step of the way.
Newsweek reported that she once had as many as 33 simultaneous Mother’s Day lawsuits on the go!

She devoted the rest of her life — and every cent of her savings — to fighting to keep Mother’s Day pure.

In a day and age where you can buy anything for your mum and have it gift-wrapped and delivered, spending time with them, and maybe even helping them out, is what Anna Jarvis envisaged all those years ago.

You Got This!

Scott.

Help! My Mother-in-law Breeds Siamese Fighting Fish

Hi Scott,

I get along well with my mother-in-law — it’s her business ideas that drive me nuts. One day she discovered the marvellous world of pet breeding, specifically high-end ragdoll cats. Quite good money for cute little kittens. She took a loan — from my wife — and off she went. But the kittens turned into old cats, with no buyers. That was 10 years ago, and it almost bankrupted my wife. Lesson learnt? No! She switched to great blue mastiffs (very Instagram worthy), but still no buyers. Lesson learnt? No! Next came Siamese fighting fish!

And that brings us to today. She holds to the idea of entrepreneurship like a lottery ticket, thinking her luck will change overnight. We have shown her that if she had taken the dole and saved it, instead of buying animals, she would be in a better position. Even those poor creatures would be better off anywhere but where she has them. But she doesn’t want help. How do you make someone so delusional see the red numbers?

Craig

Hi Craig,

She sure sounds like she’s having lots of fun!

You? Not so much.

To you, the answer to her problems is so simple it’s like shooting Siamese fighting fish in a barrel: “Stop doing this, you’re going broke!”

Yet she seems purr-fectly happy with her monetary menagerie, mate!

So let me give you the same advice I give any family member who writes to me:

Never, ever ‘lend’ money to your family or friends.

Give it to them instead.

Mentally, get to a point where you’re giving away the money: surrender any thought of it ever being repaid. Which is a decent strategy if you know she’s using it to breed pets she’ll struggle to later give up.

So on this Mother’s Day I want you to stop off at the butcher and get as many bones and offcuts as you can carry.

Then tell her the debt is forgiven!

(And never lend her money for ragdoll cats again.)

Scott.

The Barefoot Barn

On the farm we’re building a barn.

Okay, honestly, it’s an old-school man cave, with a pool table, a dart board and a very big library.

“It’s very analogue, Dad”, says my eight-year-old.

He’s right of course. There’s not a screen in sight. Yet at least my kids are used to it — over the years I’ve gone out of my way to do things with my kids that encourage them away from screens.

In fact, I joke that my aim is for them to be bored a decent amount of time. After all, that’s when ideas are formed, and connections are made. Instead, we now live in a world where we are constantly distracted, and manipulated, into what to think and believe.

And so I was interested in a study last month by Reviews.org which found that “Aussies spend 17 years of their life staring at their phone”, which works out to be 5.5 hours a day for the average Aussie.

My first thought was “that sounds pretty high”.

So I grabbed my wife’s iPhone and checked her usage (‘settings > screen time’):

“5 hours a day.”

And my screen time?

“Zero”, because I don’t carry a phone (though my wife argues strenuously that I add to her daily limit).

Worse, the study found that the average Millennial spends a massive 7.3 hours a day staring at their phone.

That’s kind of crazy when you drill down on it. Deduct sleep (eight hours) and school (where phones are banned or frowned upon) and the average young Aussie spends almost every other waking minute staring at a screen.

Astounding.

Now, I’m certainly no shrink, but my thinking is that if you’re devoting seven hours of every single day to doing something, you’re well on the road to having an addiction … which is exactly how the tech titans have engineered it.

Here’s the point: the most valuable currency in the world isn’t Bitcoin, or dollars, or Dogecoin.

The true currency of the internet age is attention.

When you capture and control people’s attention, you have power.

(Just ask Dogecoin investors, or Donald Trump.)

That’s why Big Tech will continue to use their psychological tricks (nudges, notifications, outrage) to steal more of your attention. And it’s also why they’re trying to hook us younger: kids as young as six have Messenger Kids, and Instagram has announced it’s launching a kids’ version, with a spokesman for Facebook’s Australian operations saying the platform would “fill a distinct gap in apps for children”.

What’s the bottom line?

Well, I know I’m fighting a losing battle. This is the world our kids are growing up in.

Yet I’m taking a leaf out of Steve Jobs’ book. When the founding father of technology was asked by a New York Times journalist asked what his kids thought of the iPad, he gave an unexpected reply:

“They haven’t used it. We limit how much technology our kids use at home”.

And that’s why I’m holding out in my old-fashioned analogue barn for as long as possible. After all, my kids have got plenty of time before they become adults ... and stare at their phones for 17 years.

Tread Your Own Path!