Nosebleed in Byron Bay
I just had an out of body experience … in Byron Bay no less.
Let me explain.
My yoga-loving, vegetarian wife announced that for the school holidays she’d snagged cheap Jetstar flights and an ‘amazing’ Airbnb that’s usually booked out.
(We avoid staying in hotels. Mostly because we’re a family of six, which means we have to book two hotel rooms, and partly because our five-year-old has learnt that he can pick up the phone, hit the button for in-room dining, and yell “hamburger”).
When we arrived we found it was off a tiny backstreet, and the driveway was like parking on the side of Uluru. It was such a dicey incline that all the kids fell silent for the first time on the trip. I grabbed a brick as a chock against the rental car.
It was a quintessential 80s beach shack: three small bedrooms, a pokey bathroom with salmon tiles, and a dishwasher that was older than my wife. IKEA everything. Yet its one saving grace was that it was directly across the road from the beach, and perched high enough that we had uninterrupted views of the ocean. Koom. Bah. Yah.
After a few days of beach action with the kids, I did what everyone does when they’re on holidays: I started looking at real estate prices. How much would this little shack cost to buy?
A quick google showed the place had sold for a bit over $1 million in the late nineties.
Then it changed hands again a few years ago.
Guess for how much?
Not $5 million …
Not $10 million …
It sold for $23 million.
Holy Hector!
To my finance brain it was like tucking into a bowl of magic mushies. I was left dazed and confused.
Then again, that’s actually the perfect mindset for Byron.
Each day my kids and I would walk into town and get an alkaline-organic-goji-berry-smoothie. On our last visit we had the ultimate Byron experience: an old hippie hit us up while we were waiting in line.
“Do you have a dream?” he asked the kids.
They just stared at him the same way my sheepdog looks at the robot mower – with an equal mix of fascination and confusion.
For the next five minutes he explained to them that thoughts are vibrations, and that if you can visualise a goal with enough emotional intensity then you can achieve it.
My five-year-old was all ears. After all, he’s been trying to manifest a PeeWee 50 motorbike for months.
As we all walked back to our $23 million beach shack, my eldest asked me if the old hippie was on to something. “Can you really bring goals into life just by believing them, Dad?”
“It depends on what you want, mate”, I said. “I’ve achieved many big goals in my life, but truthfully they haven’t made me that much happier. I just tend to move on to the next goal.”
The Stoics worked this out 2,000 years ago. And they had a brutally effective technique to find true happiness … though it would have absolutely horrified the old hippie:
Negative visualisation.
It’s the exact opposite of goal setting – it’s picturing really awful things happening to you – like getting ill, losing your job, or losing a loved one.
Why the hell would you do that?
Because it makes you appreciate what you actually have.
That night, as I tucked my dirt-bike-wanting Hamburglar into bed, for a brief moment I contemplated the horrible thought that he might not wake up the next morning.
And when he ran into our bedroom at the crack of dawn and launched himself on me, I wasn’t on my phone pining over $23 million beach shacks. I gave him a big squeezy cuddle.
Goal achieved.
Tread Your Own Path!
Your Questions & Answers
This Will Make You Angry
There But for the Grace of God Go I
This Will Make You Angry
Scott,
I am a struggling small business owner. We sell and service caravans. Our business has been decimated by the morons in Canberra, from their disastrous budget and their overspending, which is leading to higher interest rates, and now the final nail in the coffin is the ATO banning paying your tax bill by credit card. These idiots have no idea how to run a business! So we are told that we have to absorb the surcharges but those arrogant bastards at the ATO don’t have to? It’s just criminal. We are hanging on by a thread and this is the final straw. Why bother being in business when you have to not only deal with these clowns but fund their stupidity?
John
Hi John,
You’re like me at the MCG, yelling at the umpires.
It feels really good … and it achieves absolutely nothing!
The ATO says that about 2.3% of tax payments are made by credit card. My guess is that most of them are doing it to earn rewards points (which the banks have now basically neutered because of the changes). The rest would be small businesses like you who are on the bones of their backside.
My suggestion?
Don’t waste your energy yelling at the umpire. Instead, spend your time working out if you actually have a viable business, because paying your tax on the never-never is a strong signal that you’re ten goals down at half time. You can come back from that, but not without help. Years ago I helped set up the Small Business Debt Helpline. It’s a free service staffed by professional financial counsellors with small business expertise, and they can help you work out where you stand, and help guide you with the ATO. Give them a call on 1800 413 828 (sbdh.org.au)
There But for the Grace of God Go I
Scott,
Your question last week from Tammy, who was about to pick up her son after he’d totalled his car, made me want to share my story. When I was 18, I was two years into my apprenticeship. I wrote off my nice Ford XR6 that I’d just put the perfect mag wheels on. I’d been drinking. It put me $15,000 in debt for a car I didn’t own anymore, plus $10,000 for the car I crashed into. Thank everything that no one was hurt. It drove me to pay debt as hard as I could and manage my money tooth and nail. I’m sharing this because I’m now 35, own 70% of my house worth $1.5 million (with my wife and one-year-old) with no other debt.
The biggest factor for this was my Dad, who cast no judgement. It was a quiet ride home from the police station but even then it felt supportive. He didn’t pay a cent of my debt but made sure I could pay it by doing overtime and even having a second job. He died in 2020 from MND and I miss his wisdom as I raise my son. But I’ll never forget the grace he showed me while I dug myself out of the hole I created. I just hope you can pass on an ounce of grace to Tammy that my dad showed me.
Dan
Hey Dan,
Sounds like your dad was a very wise man. It’s easy to fly off the handle and view your kids’ mistakes as a reflection of you. He realised it was a turning point in your life ... and you’re now a better money manager for having gone through it.
I know Tammy is reading. Hopefully she passes on your letter to her son.
He’s the one who needs to hear it.
Thanks for reading,
Scott.