In 81 Days I’m Walking Away from Millions

Dear Scott,
 
I’ve been married for 35 years, and I am scared. I’m only 81 days away from accessing my super balance, which is $30,000. I need to take that money and escape from my husband. I would be leaving a property worth $1.7 million. Nothing is in my name, only the debt of $170,000 that’s left of the mortgage. I know I’m losing everything I’ve worked for, but I’m scared of him, and scared that he can take what I have left. I feel I need to take the money and go overseas so he can’t find me.
 
Denise
 
Hi Denise

I am so sorry.
 
You’re right – now is the time for action – you need to escape.
 
But how?
 
Well, let me tell you a little secret. I’ve helped hundreds of women plan their escape, and their partners all had one thing in common:
 
They were bullies.
 
And, like all bullies, they work hard to convince their partners that they have all the power, sometimes with violence. Mostly with insults and put-downs that systematically erode their self-esteem. And almost always by controlling all the money, which keeps them trapped.
 
Denise, his days of bullying you will soon be over.
 
That’s because over the next 81 days I want you to do the following:
 
First, call your bank’s hardship department.
 
Tell them what’s going on. They will open a bank account in just your name that he can’t access. The best banks will even fund it with some ‘getaway money’. Seriously.
 
Second, lock everything down.
 
Change all your passwords and PINs, and lock down your phone’s privacy and location-tracking settings. While you’re at it, scout around and find as much financial information as you can: you’re looking for copies of your marriage and birth certificates, and any information on shares, property or superannuation.

Third, go see a family lawyer.
 
The first meeting will be free, and they’ll explain that you’re entitled to a share of the assets. He may have bullied you into believing that he can take your super, but the truth is that it’s he who needs to be worried financially!
 
Finally, when it comes time to make your escape, spend money on getting safe accommodation that he can’t access, and getting counselling. Reach out to the 1800RESPECT line on 1800 737 732 – there are people who can help you.
 
Good luck.

My secret side hustle as a hairdresser

“You’re not wearing that, are you?” sighed my wife, Liz.
 
We were heading out to a party and I was wearing my standard uniform: boots, jeans, and the next clean T-shirt that was in my cupboard that morning ...
 
… which just so happened to be a free promotional T-shirt from my hairdresser, with a big ‘Lucky’s Barber Shop Woodend’ logo (and shop address) on the front and back.
 
“Please don’t wear that shirt … it confuses people … they think you’re a hairdresser”, Liz pleaded.
 
It’s true – more than a few times when wearing this shirt, random people have struck up a conversation with me about hairdressing. Most of the time I correct them, but every now and again I just roll with it.
 
I’ll theatrically cock my head to the side, study their face intensely, and say something like:
 
“I love what you’ve done with your fringe, it totally frames your face!”
 
Liz stood in the hallway shaking her head, resigned to the fact that the man she married is not only a bogan – but a cheap bogan.
 
At the party, a sharply dressed fashionable DIK (Dad I Know) told me he got his shirt on “Shein, for like ten bucks”. Everyone in the circle nodded knowingly, but I just stared at him blankly.
 
“Is that a shop?”
 
Yes it is, I discovered.
 
Though it turns out Shein is more like the meth-addicted brother of retail giant Zara.
 
You see, Zara changed clothes retailing in the 90s forever when it created ‘fast fashion’:
 
They take photos at fashion runway shows in Paris, send them to their factories in Spain, and have cheap knock-offs made, shipped and on their shelves within 15 days.
 
These clothes may be cheap but they’re profitable as hell – the Ortega family, which started the business, is now stupidly rich – as in $120 billion rich.
 
Now comes Chinese brand Shein, which has put fast fashion into hyperspeed:
 
Zara reportedly adds around 2,000 new styles every month.
 
Shein adds 6,000 new styles every day.
 
As a result, Shein is now certifiably huge – the world’s largest clothes retailer – bigger than H&M, Nike, Adidas and even Amazon. Its pop-up shops in Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane have caused fans to go into a meltdown as they claw each other for $3 T-shirts, $5 skirts and $10 jeans.
 
Yet if $10 jeans are too expensive … how about $7 jeans?
 
Well,, this is where things get really weird.
 
You can find them on another Chinese mega-shopping app called Temu – which is the hottest thing in shopping right now. Along with clothes, Temu sells all the junk you’d find at a flea market.  
 
If Shein is a meth-addicted version of Zara, Temu is the magic-mushroom-munching half-sister of the lot of them. Its catchcry is “shop like a billionaire”.
 
Yeah, nah.
 
I can’t really picture James Packer buying a men’s two-piece suit ($46.70 – Valentine’s Day special!), or a pooping dog butt toothpaste dispenser ($2.36), or 12 pairs of comfy ankle socks ($2.96).
 
Though I could see him investing in it.
 
After all, Temu has (astonishingly) quickly become one of the most popular apps in Australia. It’s reported that it had over nine million registered Australian users just two months after it launched, largely driven by millennials attracted to an app that gamifies shopping. 
 
But hold your hashtags!
 
Fact is, if you can get a pair of jeans delivered to your door for $7, someone is getting trousered.
 
Like the environment. Like the poor bastards in sweatshops. And like the Australian retailers – Kmart, Big W and your local haberdashery – whose business models are being turned upside down.
 
Still, thankfully there will always be a need for a hairdresser. Then again, you can buy a four-piece salon professional barber hairdressing kit on Temu for just … $2.46.
 
Snip, snip!
 
Tread Your Own Path!

Deep Fake

My father still washes the dishes by hand each night because he doesn’t ‘trust’ the dishwasher.
 
(And my parents have had a dishwasher for 30 years. How’s that for staying power?)
 
The other night, while he was doing the dishes, I showed him a Facebook video of me enthusiastically promoting a scam trading program, calling it an “exceptional financial collaboration”.

As he watched I could see his old soap suds circling the drain:
 
It sure looked like his son. It sure sounded like his son. What the heck was going on?
 
I explained to him that it was a deep fake video … possibly the first one he’d ever seen.
 
“Was it the bloody Russians?” he asked innocently.
 
“No idea,” I replied.
 
All we knew was that someone had taken footage of me from an old interview on Sky News and manipulated it into something very weird.
 
See, for all the hype of artificial intelligence, so far the big winners have been the scammers, who have weaponised deep fake videos and voice cloning to systematically con tens of billions of dollars a year from victims across the globe.
 
There are now 46 million cyber attacks launched each day, and many of them are targeted at financial institutions, according to a report in the Financial Times.
 
That explains why the world’s biggest bank, JP Morgan, spends $23 billion a year on technology, and employs more engineers than Google or Amazon, largely to stop cyber crooks.
 
And all this has left me wondering whether the dinky little credit union I bank with (which still has biros chained to the desk) will have the budget to fight the hackers and keep me safe.
 
(Annoyingly, after a career of bashing the Big 4 banks, it’s dawning on me that perhaps they’ll be some of the only institutions who will be able to afford to build an AI army.)
 
And what about my deep fake problem?
 
Well, when I reported it to Facebook, they called and said they were immediately dispatching a crack team of ninjas to the Kremlin to duke it out with the Ruskies.
 
Yeah, nah.
 
They didn’t even bother responding.  
 
Yet even if they did bother to shut down the page, my guess is another 20 videos would automatically pop up. It’s like trying to get rid of thistles in my paddocks with vinegar and hot water. Yes, it’s environmentally friendly, Liz, but all the farmers around town are laughing at me!
 
Besides, Zuckerberg is up to his zucks right now taking deep fake videos to a very freaky new level. In an interview with tech podcaster Lex Fridman last year, Zuckerberg said his company was working on AI technology that will help you create a virtual avatar – or human-like clone of yourself – which people will be able to ‘have conversations’ with.
 
True dinks.
 
Zuckerberg is creating his own (Facebook) Frankenstein … and that story turned out okay, right?
 
Tread Your Own Path!

Generally I don’t speak about politics in this column, but last week my editor requested (read: demanded) that I write about the changes to tax cuts. Now I know why. Holy Hector, what a response! So, here we go again …

2024 Will Bring The Biggest Crash of Our Lifetime

Hi Scott
 
A question for you if you wouldn’t mind commenting – is there any truth to economist Harry Dent’s latest dire warning of doom for shares and property in Australia? 
 
Jenny
 
Hi Jenny,
 
So I watched Harry on the Today show. He predicted that “2024 will bring the biggest crash of our lifetimes”, and suggested that the value of both Aussie shares and property could more than halve this year.
 
It was frankly … weird.
 
 The folks on Today are supposed to be journalists, but the hardest hitting question they asked wasn’t even a question. All the interviewer said (with a giggle) was, “Geez, that’s a bit depressing”.
 
So here’s a question I would have asked Harry:
 
“Harry, you’ve been incorrectly predicting that Australian property prices will crash for years.
 
“You said they’d be down by … 55% in 2009, 65% in 2011, 55% in 2014, 50% in 2016, 40% in 2018, and 40% in 2020. You have been ball-tearingly wrong for so long, why should we believe you today?”
 
And because he’s a savvy sausage, Harry would no doubt have a well-rehearsed rebuttal that would sow enough doubt in the minds of viewers eating their cornflakes to let him wriggle out of that question. So then I’d then follow it up with my final question:
 
“Harry, if you have all the answers, why don’t you set up an investment fund and make billions profiting from your predictions?”
 
Because, once upon a time he did. Except it was a dud, reportedly losing 80% of its assets before it was merged and closed down.

You’re Nothing but a Bag of %$#^&, Barefoot

Scott,
 
Many people who earn a lot are miners. We sacrifice our lives without family and friends to make higher wages while giving tax cuts to people who choose to earn less but won’t make a sacrifice to earn more. And then they whinge to get more handouts! I’ve never been given a dollar from all the handouts and I’m over it. Australia is a joke. You think we like getting up at 4am and not getting back to our rooms till 7pm? I normally like your column, but if you think we should keep funding the bludgers you can go eat a bag of (DELETED).

Mark
 
Hi Mark
 
I had to severely edit your question for all the swearing, threats and insults – but I thoroughly enjoyed it. Seriously, getting chewed out by an angry miner was the highlight of my week!
 
You work bloody hard, and you get paid bloody well for it. You’re living the Australian dream.
 
Now look, you sound like a tough, stoic bloke. You don’t depend on anyone, and the Government thanks you for that. In fact, you should do what our politicians do: talk to your accountant and discuss shovelling your money into the last great (legal) tax dodge … super, and, because you’re a high income earner, funnel the rest into a family trust.
 
Don’t get angry, just work the system.

AMEN, Barefoot!

Barefoot,
 
I love your position on the tax cuts! I’m in the highest tax bracket, and you won’t catch me moaning about getting a bit less of a still giant tax cut when we are in a cost of living crisis that I am immune from due to my high income. For all of those complaining about providing a tiny tax cut to low income earners who desperately need it, I wish they would all pack up and move somewhere like Brazil – and sip cocktails while staring at the favelas and feeling better than everyone else. This isn’t the Government breaking promises, it’s the Government responding to an urgent situation affecting the most vulnerable in society.  
 
Linda
 
Hi Linda
 
You have to wonder if it was really that urgent, why did they spend months denying they’d change anything … only to turn around and fold like a cheap Aldi card table when the polls dipped?
 
That’s politics I guess.
 
Speaking of which, let’s spare a thought for poor old Treasurer Jim Chalmers.  He’s like me at 9pm on a school night – all he wants is for everyone to shut up and go to sleep. Yet, after Albo’s tax flip last week, some of his colleagues have gotten a bit hot and hairy and want Jim to put tax reform on the table.
 
Good idea. If the Government had the bolas, they could cut the capital gains discount and ditch negative gearing, which would mean that young first home buyers could finally compete on a level playing field with property investors.
 
Yeah, right. “If I hear another peep out of you lot, there will be no tuck shop tomorrow!”, yells a furious Jim Chalmers (who this week ruled both changes out).
 
Oh, and I agree with you on the favelas in Brazil. I visited one a few years ago, and as we walked up to the gates my guide motioned up to the hills – from the top of the hill I could see a gun was pointing at my head. The favelas are run by a ruthless bunch of overlords … kind of like the Government!
 
Anyway, thanks for the words of support, Linda. And, just for balance, here’s Mark, who thinks I’m a soggy sanger …

Could you ... would you?

Hi Scott,

Thank you so much for your amazing money concept for kids. I am a School Chaplain at a low socio-economic school in Tamworth, NSW. I have run with your book idea with some Year 6 students. We found an opportunity to earn money and pay it back to the school through making cards for the Mother’s Day and Father’s Day stalls. I am looking at enthusing the next card-making crew to pick up the mantle next year. These guys are so committed. I was wondering if you might be generous enough to shout them a copy of your book so we can present it to them at their Year 6 formal?
 
Belinda

---

Hey Belinda,
 
This warms my heart.
 
I’ve tried so hard to get this message into schools, and the fact that your kids have embraced it is awesome. I hope they enjoyed their signed books.

Scott.

Rethink the six-berth motorhome!

Dear Barefoot,

I’ve loved your advice and guidance over the years. You’ve gotten me from knowing nothing about money management, and having a crappy Westpac account charging $5 monthly account fees, all the way to having $30,000 in index-based ETFs. Normally, you’re the one giving advice, but now those tables are turnin’. I heard about you planning an epic road trip with your fam, and that sounds AMAZING. But I also heard about how you’re going to do it. Barefoot, I love you, and don’t want you to die. That’s why you should definitely rethink driving a six-berth motorhome around Europe! The roads are chaotic, and I struggled driving in a little hatchback, so I can’t imagine doing it in a huge motorhome. If you insist, though, I hope you have Vin Diesel’s driving skills. Just don’t drive in and around the major cities – only use the motorhome to travel city to city. Anyway, stay safe and enjoy your trip – I can’t wait to hear all about it. Hopefully you’ll be back in one piece to tell the tale.
 
Christian

---

Hi Christian,
 
This would have been handy to know before I left.
 
It was everything you described and more. So. Much. More.
 
Sicily was like Grand Theft Auto. Rome was hot, as in literally – we didn’t have airconditioning and it hit 50 degrees inside the motorhome, with the six of us.
 
I’ve actually been back for a while now (my editor was going to send out a search party). However, I’ve spent the last month or so down in the back paddock in front of a fire, in a foetal position, rocking back and forth.

Scott.

Eat, pray, panic

Late last year we got back from our latest family adventure.
 
We spent three-and-a-half months travelling through Europe in a motorhome.
 
Just writing that last line makes it sound very … Instagram influencer … #bestlife!
 
So let’s rip off the filter, starting on day three of the trip in the Swiss Alps.
 
Like all good horror movies, this one began innocently enough:
 
Liz jumped into the motorhome and sang:
 
“We’re heading to Italy today … who’s ready to have some gel-a-t-oooo!?”
 
(I personally think she came out a little early with this carrot … after all, we had a boring six-hour drive ahead of us, mainly in dark tunnels through the Swiss Alps.)
 
After about half an hour driving up what seemed to be a gigantic mountain, I nervously turned to Liz and said, “The tunnels … they’ll come soon … right?”
 
“Ummm”, she said, starting to bite her lower lip.
 
Uh-oh.
 
Our kids picked up on the tension in the cabin, and dutifully pressed ‘go’.
 
My two-year-old began totally teeing off, thrashing about in his car seat trying to escape like a drunk bogan being kicked out of the cricket, screaming “I want to go back to the farm NOW!”
 
My five-year-old, who’d been quiet for the entire morning, suddenly announced she was feeling dizzy (altitude sickness) and began chundering into a chip packet.
 
My seven-year-old started screaming at her, “Do you know how DISGUSTING you are?!”
 
While my 10-year-old sat reading Harry Potter, oblivious to the carnage surrounding him.
 
And then as we approached the top of the highest mountain peak … it happened.
 
“There’s a tunnel up ahead”, I cried to Liz.
 
A bright red road sign above the tunnel read:
 
“WARNING: LOW TUNNEL 3.2 METRES.”
 
And that was a problem, because the sticker on my windscreen read:
 
“WARNING: MOTORHOME HEIGHT 3.5 METRES.”
 
And so there we were, on the top of the Swiss Alps, literally on a cliff face, on a road so narrow you couldn’t turn a Vespa, let alone a 3.5-metre-high FIAT motorhome.
 
Calming myself, I hit the hazard lights, came to a gentle stop, turned to the kids, and started screaming at the top of my lungs, “STOP SCREAMING!”
 
Then I looked in my side mirror. There were now at least 25 cars banked up behind me, tooting and repeatedly yelling “FICK DICH!” at me.
 
It’s in pressure cooker moments like these that you work out the sort of husband, father and leader you really are. So I took a deep breath, turned to Liz and said:
 
“Get out.”

She nodded, and dutifully walked through the dark tunnel into oncoming traffic … flagging down cars, trucks and buses with nothing more than mum energy.
 
A few moments later she emerged back through the tunnel and gave me the thumbs up.
 
So hot.  
 
And so, with the cabin now dead silent, we crept through the centre of the tunnel – missing the top of the roof by no more than Peter Dutton’s fringe.
 
We made it!

Did things get better?

You bet they did: this was after all a trip of a lifetime.
 
What made the biggest impact on us?
 
Well, it wasn’t the major must-sees:
 
The Mona Lisa: “It’s pretty small, Dad.”
 
The Eiffel Tower: “It’s too big, there’s no way I’m going up that many stairs.”
 
The Trevi Fountain: “It’s kinda like the one in Bendigo.”
 
Rather, it was the tiny towns and villages we visited:
 
You see, Italy is very rancho relaxo.
 
They work to live, not the other way around (like we do).
 
All the shops close down at lunchtime and everyone goes home for a few hours to relax and spend time with their family. And then in the evenings the old people gather in the town square and play cards, talk, and enjoy a vino while all around them their kids, grandkids and great-grandkids play.
 
We quickly became part of the community. The little Italian nonnas at our local espresso bar would whisk my blond two-year-old away and play with him. After a few espressos, and some Nutella-filled pastries, I’d go and find him. “Is he being annoying?” I’d ask.
 
They’d smile and say …
 
“Scialla.” (Don’t stress.)
 
Tread Your Own Path!

Editor’s note: I haven’t checked my inbox in six months. There are a *lot* of emails. The one that follows was sent back in June …

Barefoot Christmas Books!

Here are the three books that will be in my Santa sack this year (apart from Barefoot Kids, of course):
 
Poor Charlie’s Almanack: The Essential Wit and Wisdom of Charles T. Munger
By Charlie Munger
 
The world lost an investment legend this year when Charlie Munger passed away at age 99. For the uninitiated, Charlie was Warren Buffett’s right-hand man, and together they spent decades running the world’s greatest compound interest machine, Berkshire Hathaway.
 
Charlie was rich enough to say whatever the hell he wanted, which he did – railing against the greed of Wall Street, Bitcoin Bros (he famously called crypto ‘rat poison’), and giving wise advice on living a decent life. Despite being a multi-billionaire, Munger – like Buffett – chose to live in the same humble home for 70 years.
 
“There are answers worth billions of dollars in a $30 history book”, writes Munger.  
 
And this is one such book.

Outlive: The Science & Art of Longevity 
By Peter Attia
 
I didn’t want to like this book.
 
After all, I’m highly cynical of best-selling how-to books (hello, Barefoot Investor).
 
Surely it couldn’t be as good as everyone says it was?  
 
Actually, it was better.
 
Attia is a super-smart quack, and he’s produced the definitive guide to living a long, healthy life. Yet what sets this book apart from other health and diet books is that I gave it to my editor, Wally, a man who knows his way around a sausage roll, and it totally changed the way he approaches his health.
 
Much like the shoeless book, it’s good because it works.
 
The Coming Wave: Technology, Power, and the Twenty-first Century’s Greatest Dilemma
By Mustafa Suleyman
 
So this one comes with a warning: it totally stressed me out. And not just me. A member of my unofficial book club told me he couldn’t get past the third chapter: “It was just too scary, I couldn’t cope.”
 
Suleyman isn’t some blow-hard author trying to sell some books by frightening the pants off us. He’s totally got the chops, having co-founded one of the world’s most successful artificial intelligence (AI) companies, Deepmind Technologies, which was bought by Google a decade ago for $750 million.
 
AI is going to fundamentally change the world, and sooner than we think.
 
He writes about the latest ‘litmus test’ for AI, which is to give it the instruction to “make me $1 million selling stuff on Amazon”. The AI bot will scan Amazon for the most profitable products, have it made in China, list it online, write all the ad copy, manage fulfilment and customer service … and then deposit $1 million into your bank account.
 
Crazy, huh?
 
In the coming decade AI will infiltrate our lives, driven by the fact that it will get smarter and faster, and it won’t get drunk and make an arse of itself at the office Christmas party.
 
This bloke knows what’s coming down the tunnel. Read it to find out what (maybe) happens next.
 
Tread Your Own Path!

A tough Christmas?

Last week I did an (unpaid!) gig for Australia’s largest mental health support organisation, Beyond Blue.
 
Unbeknown to me, an eager beaver from their comms team went ahead and entitled the presentation “Take the pressure down: A guide to navigating end-of-year stress with Beyond Blue and the Barefoot Investor.”
 
As I read the title, a shot of anxiety squirted smack bang into my left eyeball … a place that’s generally reserved for my two-year-old, who is currently attempting to drop his afternoon napandpotty training.
 
Beyond Blue’s commissioned research has revealed that the overwhelming majority of people (77%) are feeling stressed heading to the end of the year, and over eight in ten of them say the top stressor impacting their mental health is financial pressure.
 
What could I say about that?
 
Quite a lot actually, though I was a little stressed that I was about to depress everyone, which kind of goes against the entire ethos of Beyond Blue.
 
You see, I actually don’t agree that it will be a tough Christmas formostpeople.
 
Yes, I know only too well that forsomepeople – like many financial counselling clients, and the people I’m serving at the local Foodbank – it’s going to be pretty grim.
 
For the rest of us?
 
Not so much. The fact is we’re rear-ending another ‘annus horribilis’, to quote the dearly departed Queen. And so many of us will, either consciously or unconsciously, let it all hang out over the holidays, and pinky promise ourselves that we’ll ‘get it under control’ in January (or February). In other words, there ain’t no one counting calories when the Christmas pudding gets passed around.
 
So let’s you and I talk about how to make this Christmas the most enjoyable one yet.
 
Quick quiz time:  
 
What did you get for Christmas last year?
 
Go on, stop reading now, and spend 10 seconds thinking about it.
 
You’ll be lucky if you can remember one thing. (Fun fact: I did this with my four children, who each have Christmas lists longer than my last manuscript, and even they couldn’t remember more than a handful of things.)
 
Chances are you (or your kids) won’t remember the gifts you received – but you likelywillremember the vibe of the house, especially if it was full of stress and anxiety.
 
So I have a couple of suggestions.
 
First, don’t be a tight-arse this Christmas.
 
It’s been a tough year. Life is for living, so spend lavishly on nice food and booze (or mocktails for us teetotallers). You’ll get a similar dopamine rush anticipating and enjoying a nice spread than you will from that soap-on-a-rope gift set. So go all out on the Christmas pudding.
 
(Another fun fact: each Christmas my father threatens to slip coins into the pudding for the kids to ‘discover’ as they’re eating, just like when he was a kid. Depending on how much Christmas cheer he’s had, the results could range from diarrhoea to death. Seriously, do you know how much bacteria there is on the average coin? It’s always a tense time for Liz … “What if one of the children swallows a 20-cent piece? They’ll choke!”)
 
Second, don’t focus on the economy, or house prices, or interest rates, or your boss – you have no control over any of that. Instead focus on what you can control, and take some small but decisive steps to build your confidence and control.
 
And lastly, don’t waste money on expensive presents for adults.
 
They don’t want or need another scented candle. Or a key-ring. (Which is what my wife bought me a few Christmases ago. Nothing says 11 years of marriage quite like a key-ring wrapped and put under the tree: “You’re always losing your keys, so I thought this would be … practical”, she said, passively aggressively.)
 
Ho! Ho! No!
 
Instead, I’d suggest buying people books. They’re cheap (under $30), don’t need a card (just scribble a message on the first page), and the bookshop will even wrap it for you. Best of all, it says to the recipient “I think you’re smart”, which is, after all, the emotion you’re really trying to buy.

I’m Back

It's been a while since we last spoke.

Clearly.

“Well, I never thought I’d see you again”, grumbled my long-suffering editor.

Why’s that? I asked.

“Maybe because you basically fell off the face of the planet for the past six months!

“Your phone rang out.

“Your emails bounced back.

“And we couldn’t even track you on social media … because you’re not on it!”

I apologised profusely, and then placed this Christmas column on his desk.

I’ll be back in 2024, ready and raring to go.

Merry Christmas!

I’m so ashamed of my son

Hi Barefoot,
 
My 20-year-old son’s (ex) girlfriend signed up for a car finance loan so my son could buy a $21,000 car. The car was registered in his name, the finance contract in hers. He promised to pay her the monthly amount owing on the contract, but this was never put in writing. He made a couple of repayments, then crashed the car. It was only insured for third party fire and theft. They broke up. It’s now unregistered, uninsured and undrivable. He’s refusing to pay her anything at all and isn’t taking her calls. I’m incensed, angry and embarrassed about how he’s treated her. She’s obviously very upset – she’s only 20 herself, has been left with a five-year debt, and is just a student with a part-time job. My question is, can she get out of the contract? What are her options?

Edwina
 
Hi Edwina,
 
So this is the first question in 20 years that’s truly stumped me.
 
And no, it’s not because I don’t know the answer, which is actually quite simple:
 
Your son’s ex-girlfriend will not be able to get out of the contract with the lender. It’s now a civil matter, and if she wants to pursue it she’ll need to get independent legal advice (which she’s unlikely to do as a broke student).
 
What I’m finding difficult about your question is putting myself in your shoes, as the parent.
 
What would I do?
 
Well, I’d give him a kick up the backside. (I know that’s not politically correct … but I’m not a politician.)
 
I’d tell him how deeply ashamed I was and give him an ultimatum: if he doesn’t make things right, you’ll cut him off financially from that point on.
 
Then I’d make contact with the ex-girlfriend and offer to make the repayments on her behalf.
 
I’d also encourage her to book in and see a financial counsellor (1800 007 007). They will likely suggest that she surrender the car back to the lender, and will help her apply for a compassionate debt waiver.
 
Hang on, why would the lender even consider waiving the debt?
 
For a few reasons:
 
First, it could be that your son coerced her into signing for the loan.
 
Second, it could be argued that the lender was at fault for not requiring her to take out comprehensive car insurance … or for lending a substantial amount of dough to a student on a very low income (take your pick).
 
Finally, given she’s a broke student, they may decide she’s not worth chasing for the dough (she likely has no assets and not much income, so the lender may be thinking she’ll go bankrupt and stiff them).
 
At which point the financial counsellor could negotiate a ‘full and final’ settlement of a few thousand dollars – which your little kidult should definitely pay.
 
Get your boots on, Mama!

Scott.

Tread Your Own Path

As you read this, I’m flying somewhere above your head.
 
We’re on a long-haul flight to Europe, which means that our four free-range farm kids are currently locked up in an aluminium tube for the next 22 hours.
 
Madness.
 
Yet that’s not the craziest thing we’re doing … that happens when we land.
 
We’re picking up a six-berth motorhome and doing an epic road trip through Germany, Switzerland, Austria, France, Italy and the UK.
 
If I’m honest, the trouble started when I was booking the motorhome. I noticed they all seemed to be manual drive. So I emailed an Italian car-hire business and requested an automatic, but was told:
 
“I’m sorry sir, but automatic vehicles are only for … disabled people.”
 
I wanted to reply and tell him that I do have some lead in my saddlebags: I’m driving on the wrong side of the road … in a seven-metre-long bus … on tiny narrow roads built thousands of years ago … in the peak holiday season … with four kids!
 
And you know what?
 
I can’t wait.
 
It’s been three years since we did our ‘lap of the Aussie map’, and that was hands down the best investment I’ve ever made. So much so that we started planning this trip the day we got back.
 
We’re going to be doing a bit of free camping (which has Gran absolutely scared stiff). Yet we’ve also hired local Italian and French travel agents (via the freelance site Upwork) to guide us on our itinerary and book some off-the-beaten-track campsites and farmstays. Best of all, for $15 an hour, they’re our on-the-ground ‘fixers’ – on hand via WhatsApp whenever we get in a jam. (“Buon giorno, Sabrina, can you please speak to this lovely traffic policeman in Italiano for me … tell him I’m really sorry.”)
 
For the next few months, it’ll be all about the open road and the adventure with the people I love.
 
After all, the best thing you can spend on your kids is time, right?

Till we meet again …

Tread Your Own Path!

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.

Your bucket system failed us

Scott,
 
The bucket system outlined in your book is now failing us. With interest rises and inflation, our cost of living has increased significantly, and now our mortgage takes up 55% of our daily expenses bucket. Given these changes, how would you amend your system to accommodate this?
 
Heidi
 
Hi Heidi,
 
Where in my book did I say take out a loan where the repayments are more than half your take home?
 
That’s right, I didn’t.
 
However, I did devote pages and pages to explaining why interest rates would eventually rise … and my answer was to borrow less than the bank offered and to set up different money buckets to prepare for it.
 
So what can you do now?
 
You need to get your home loan repayments down to a more sustainable level – around 30% of your take-home pay is a good rule of thumb – and you need to do it pronto. After all, what are you going to do if rates go higher from here?
 
And you’re not going to get there by cancelling your Netflix or swapping burrata for baked beans. You either need to earn more money – by getting a raise, or taking a second job, or both – or you need to think long and hard about whether you can afford the house.

Scott.

Holy Moly!

Last week I challenged you to do ‘one thing’ towards what you’ve been putting off, and then email me and let me know what you did.
 
Strike me pink!
 
Sitting back on the farm, tapping this little note each week to you, it’s easy to forget how many of you there are out there in the wilds. (My inbox got absolutely destroyed … in a good way.)
 
Here are some of the things people have got off their rumpus and done:
 
“I’ve been a stay-at-home mum for almost seven years. My ‘one thing’ is I’ve now enrolled in TAFE to reskill myself”, says Tania.
 
“I got suckered into a high-pressure sales pitch for a super fund years ago. I knew it was a bad idea, but I felt so ashamed and stupid that I just ignored it. This week, I called them up and transferred to AustralianSuper”, said Paul.
 
“I’ve had the Vanguard Aust app on my phone for close to 12 months, but fear of the unknown has stopped me from doing anything. Now I’ve transferred $500 from my savings to Vanguard and will invest it in their International Shares Index Fund. It’s a pretty exciting feeling to be a first-time investor”, says Billy.
 
“I have made the list of outstanding debts and paid the first one off – the dreaded credit card. Already a sense of relief has washed over me. One small step but a step in the right direction nonetheless”, says Tom.
 
“I quit my executive role and took a $50,000 pay cut to be with my family more – and I couldn’t be happier!” says Linda.
 
“We have spoken with our bank and reduced our mortgage interest rate by 0.5%, as well as changing our repayments to fortnightly instead of monthly. It costs nothing and will saves us $$. Small steps, but they all help”, says Daniel.

“For years we felt we were inseparable from the hooks sunk into us by our financial adviser. But not today. We sat down with a known, trusted and experienced fee-for-service professional who was able to clearly lay out a pathway to extract ourselves from our SMSF (and cut some very expensive ties with our existing adviser)”, says Col.
 
“Today, after your email, I’ve decided to do a digital detox on my phone. I’ve deleted the three key apps that lead to 3.5 hours a day on the phone screen”, says Susan.

Bingo Bango!
 
Thank you to everyone who wrote in. The answers have had a deep impact on me (and my kids … I’ve been reading some out at the family dinner table). We have so many amazingly determined and inspiring people in our community. I’m still reading through them all, and I look forward to reading about your wins too.
 
You Got This!

I Got Carjacked!

Hi Scott,

Am I up a brown creek with no paddle? Years ago an ex-partner left me financially screwed. Fast-forward to now and my husband and I have started our Barefoot life and are loving it (even though we are low income earners). However, last year I needed a reasonably priced second-hand car, and with the trade-in we took out a loan with Money3 for $8,000. The interest rate is a hefty 24.95% and the cost of the loan is $6,200 over three years! I know I signed and am liable for the amount, but I feel like I’ve been financially exploited because of my previous situation.
 
Ursula
 
Hi Ursula,
 
Yes, you got exploited.
 
And that’s not just my opinion; it’s also the view of the corporate cop, ASIC, which is currently taking Money3 to court over their second-hand car lending practices.
 
It may be the case that your loan was unsuitable (and unconscionable), so I’d suggest you contact the National Debt Helpline on 1800 007 007 to help you make a complaint to Money3.
 
Here’s the truth: there’s an entire industry that benefits from people’s financial illiteracy. The business model is to trap their customers in a merry-go-round of financial misery that most people never get out of.
 
This is the reason I’m so passionate about financial education in schools: we simply expect kids to know this stuff, when in reality they don’t. And they’re going up against experienced, wealthy finance businesses that know – and use – every trick in the book.

Scott.

How to Earn $6,000 in One Hour

Hey Scott,
 
My wife and I are fiercely trying to pay down our home loan. After trying to negotiate down our rate with our lender last year, we decided it was time to switch to what was, at the time, the best variable rate we could find. Fast-forward a year and there are far better rates ‘out there’, with many lenders offering enticing cash bribes. So my question is: what’s stopping me from refinancing regularly … even yearly? Is there a chance lenders might start rejecting my applications, leaving me in no-man’s land?
 
Tim
 
Hi Tim,

No, I don’t see that happening.
 
I had a Barefooter write to me about what happened when he threatened to leave his bank for a cheaper rate, and the bank called his bluff.
 
Here’s what happened next, in his own words:
 
“ANZ were offering new customers a $4,000 sign-on bonus (and a slightly better rate), so we switched. But then, a few weeks later, I saw that my original bank was offering $3,000 for new customers. Bang! Before you know it, I’m back with my original bank. For about 1–2 hours of paperwork and a few phone calls and emails, we were able to pay $6,000 off our home loan (after fees!).”
 
Nice one!
 
Last month the CEO of ANZ Bank said that the home loan market was the most competitive he’d ever seen, and some banking analysts are suggesting that the discounts and incentives new customers are getting offered at the moment are irrational.
 
Understand this: the banks aren’t flashing the cash to their loyal customers … only those who bother to switch. So the only irrational thing you can do is not spend a few minutes putting your bank under the hammer this weekend.

Scott.

Die With Zero

I’ve had a bloke living in my back paddock for the last couple of months.
 
True dinks.

His name is Oliver, and he’s a 21-year-old pommy backpacker who works on my farm, lives in his van, and does his business in our shearing shed portaloo (which, up until now, has only been used by shearers and requires a full hazmat suit to do a number two).
 
The other night he pulled out a map of Australia and said, “Where should I go next?”
 
“You’re living the dream, mate!” I told him, as I retreated to my warm home, with a flushing toilet.
 
Now the ‘sensible’ financial advice for a young bloke like Olly is that he’d be better off in the long run staying home, getting a good job, and starting to sock money away to save for a house deposit.
 
If he did that he could buy a cheap (overpriced) home in his late twenties. And if he did that he could spend his thirties and forties working even harder to try and pay it off. (As one burnt-out forty-something manager told me over coffee this week, “I spend more time mentoring the kids who work at the office than I do my own kids at home”).  
 
The sensible financial advice says that Olly will finally be able to slow down and enjoy himself when he retires, but there’s only one problem …

You see, the big taboo topic of retirement is that many retirees don’t end up spending their nest eggs.
 
They hoard it, because, understandably, they’re scared of running out of money. Yet by the time they work out they’ve got more than enough left over … they’re often too old to enjoy it.  
 
And so they die in their eighties with a big pot of money that they worked bloody hard for and sacrificed precious moments for … but never got around to enjoying.
 
That money is then left to their kids, who are then in their fifties or sixties and don’t really need it (they really needed help in their early thirties when they were starting their own family).
 
In the book Die With Zero, author Bill Perkins argues: “The number of actual experiences available to you diminishes as you age. Yes, you need money to survive in retirement, but the main thing you’ll be retiring on will be your memories – so make sure you invest enough in those.”  
 
And right now Olly is investing in memories that will last him a lifetime: he’s fallen for a lovely Aussie girl; partied on a deserted island under the moonlight; and met weird and wonderful people (my kids want to take him to school for show and tell).
 
So what’s the lesson?
 
Well, it’s not to ‘die with zero’ (as the book says). That’s fraught with danger, given you don’t know when you’re going to die, and you don’t want to run out of dough early.
 
No, the lesson is that, once you’ve worked through the Barefoot Steps and have your financial bases covered, you should spend your money on having life-changing adventures (or enabling them for your loved ones!) instead of spending your time accumulating more money.
 
After all, life is all about the memories we make with the limited time we have. And I’ll share with you my next adventure … next week.
 
Tread Your Own Path!