The $30,000 Pussy

Barefoot,

Our cat got bitten by a snake. $30,000 later she’s alive and well and having a great life. Pets, to some, are their family. They’re not replaceable. The 30 grand I spent wasn’t just for a cat’s life … it was for my children’s happiness, it was so I didn’t have to be eaten up by guilt for the rest of my life. I look at this little cat now and wonder … what if I hadn’t spent it on her, what if I’d gone to Europe for a month-long family holiday instead. Would I be happier? I think not. 

Jane

Hi Jane

You’re triggering me.

I almost got cancelled last year for advising a broke woman not to spend $60,000 on her sausage dog.

I got absolutely savaged: bitey emails from dog lovers. I was mauled on social media, and the CEO of the Australian Veterinary Association published an open letter criticising my views (and justifying the cost of Range Rover Sport-level bills). 

So … here  we go again.

No parent wants to break a child’s heart (though my kids barrack for the Melbourne Demons, so there’s that), but I get where you’re coming from.

Look, I live on a farm, where the circle of life is on full display: the ewe prolapses and dies. The lamb gets pulled and bottle-fed by the kids. The fox breaks into the chook shed and kills the lot.

It’s hard – but it teaches them.

So I asked my eldest:

“If one of our cats got bitten by a snake, would we spend 30 grand to save it?”

He didn’t even blink:

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“And what if Granddad got bitten by a snake?”

“Well … how old is he?” he smirked.

“Stop it – you’re scaring me.”

Still, you asked: What if I hadn’t spent the money?

So let’s go there. What if you’d put that $30,000 into your mortgage? Or invested it in shares for your kids’ future? Or wiped out your credit card debt?

Well, you’d have something else: financial peace of mind. And that’s not nothing. 

I’m not saying you made the wrong choice. You saved your cat, your kids are happy, and your guilt is gone. But next time (and there’s always a next time when it comes to pets) have a plan before the tears and vet bills start flowing.

Because, while pets feel like family (and they often are!), your actual human family needs you to make clear-eyed choices, especially when it comes to money.

Scott

Why Warren Buffett inspired me to sell my shares

 “Warren Buffett announces plans to retire this year in shock to shareholders,” read the ABC headline.

Seriously?

The bloke is 95 years old! If I were his age, I’d be shocked if I could even get out of bed without sounding like a busted whipper snipper.

All jokes aside, this really is the end of an era: there will never be another Warren Buffett.

I’ve flown to Omaha, Nebraska, more times than I care to count for his legendary ‘Woodstock for Capitalists’ meetings. I’ve interviewed him. I’ve spent time with his kids.

And over the years he’s taught me three lessons that I still live by.

1. Investing My Money

I was in the crowd at Omaha in 2016, notebook in hand, when Buffett casually mentioned he’d instructed his estate to put his money into a simple Vanguard index fund when he dies.

Now, this is the greatest investor of all time. Since 1965, Berkshire Hathaway has grown in value by more than 5,500,000% (not a typo!). The index returned ‘just’ 39,000% in that time. Yet even he said it was smarter to bet on the index.

Why?

Because, as he got older, Buffett realised what most of us eventually do: that simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.

Rather than play the game, he set his family up with low-cost, no-fuss index funds.

That made me rethink everything. Over time I sold all my individual shares and moved to a set-and-forget portfolio. 

More time with the kids, and less stressing over share prices. Best move I ever made.

2. Spending My Money

The media love talking about how much Buffett is worth (around $US169 billion). 

But they always miss the real story:

He’s never sold a single share in his company Berkshire Hathaway, which doesn’t pay dividends.

In other words, he’s basically held a $180 billion lottery ticket in his pocket for decades … and never cashed it in. 

That’s what Buffett’s done. He lives in the same modest suburban house he bought in 1958. Still drives himself to work. In fact, his son once told me that, as a kid, he didn’t even know his dad was rich. 

Is that a bit weird?

Hell yes! 

But, in a world obsessed with more, one of the richest men in the world chose enough.

3. Working for My Money

When I interviewed Buffett, I asked him the secret to a happy life.

He didn’t even pause: “Find a job that makes you want to tap-dance to work every morning.” And he meant it. While the world calls him the greatest investor of all time, he told me that he’s always seen himself as a teacher.

So, as my great teacher gets set to leave the classroom, let me ask you:

Could you see yourself doing your job at 95?

And if not … what could you be doing that would make you tap-dance to work?

Tread Your Own Path!

Barefoot Bubbles

My son Odin absolutely loves Barefoot Kids – he’s followed every single step over the past year. He’s even started his own little business making and selling bubble kits! Would you be willing to check out his video and let us know what you think?

Thanks so much,

Proud Parent

Hello Proud Parent,

Because I am fiercely independent, I cannot endorse products. However, I showed my kids Odin’s video and now they are pestering me to buy one of his bubble kits! 

He’s a natural salesman, congrats!

Scott

Mouldy, Desperate Parents

Hi Scott,

We’ve spent the last seven years stuck in a financial and emotional loop, paralysed by fear of making the wrong decision for our family. Here’s our situation: we have five young kids, two of whom have special needs. The only school that caters to their needs is a two-hour drive in the morning and up to four hours in the afternoon – every single day. We’re barely managing with jobs, kids and constant driving. Meanwhile, our house is nearly paid off, but it has mould, making it a health hazard. It’s also worth only a third of homes near the school. 

We’ve inherited $900,000, but it’s tied up in property – meaning we can’t use it to ease day-to-day stress or invest elsewhere. If we sell and buy closer to the school, we risk losing all our financial security. If we stay, we continue to struggle. If we rent, we burn cash but get closer. If we knock down our house and rebuild, we risk sinking into debt. Every option feels like a mistake, so we’ve done nothing for seven years. Meanwhile, property prices keep rising. Scott, how can we break free from this paralysis and make the right move for our family’s future? We’re desperate!

Linda

Hey there Linda,

Ever heard of the boiling frog analogy?

Well, you and your husband have been simmering away in that pot for seven years! You’ve got five kids (two with special needs), a six-hour daily commute, and you’re returning to a mouldy home?

You must be ready to croak!

Here’s my take:

You’ve already set yourself up well: your house is nearly paid off, and you’ve got $900,000 to work with. So, why are you still stuck in this pot?

It’s time to jump.

Here’s what I’d do:

First, sell the house.

Second, rent near the school for now – even if it’s for the next 12 months. Think of it this way: you’re buying back 1,200 hours of your time each year. Six hours a day, all for your family and your mental health. That’s the most important investment you can make.

Should you buy in the new area? 

Maybe. But don’t stress about it right now. Renting buys you time to decide. You can always make the long-term decision when the time’s right.

Don’t get stuck obsessing over the price of rentals. Think of it this way: the price of your rent is worth every hour you’re getting back with your family. And that is the smartest investment you can make right now.

Finally, I want to tell you this: I have a huge amount of respect for you both. You’re holding it all together for your kids, and that’s no small feat. You’re tough. But remember, kids grow up fast, and the time to invest in them is right now. Don’t waste another minute.

Eat the frog!

Scott

Buy a House, or Get Screwed?

Hi Scott,

A few years ago, my husband and I lost a lot of money in a housing downturn. We’ve since saved over $400,000 and are ready to buy again, but the market is crazy. Should we invest in shares, buy now and flip in 12 months while prices are booming, or hold off, knowing property in our regional town can crash hard and fast? We’re keen to make a smarter move this time. What would you do?

Terri

Terri,

Here’s a little Barefoot cheat code for you. Whenever someone asks me a money question, the first thing I do is throw it right back at them and say:

“What do you think you should do?”

Because most of the time they already know. They really just want someone to stand there clapping while they set fire to their own eyebrows. 

And right now you’re flicking the lighter so close I can smell your monobrow starting to sizzle. That four hundred grand is about to light up your whole face. You’re tossing up buying shares, flipping a house, or sitting around waiting for a crash.

I don’t love any of those ideas.

So let’s flip this around. You’re not really looking for a quick win. You’re chasing financial security after getting your fingers burnt last time.

So why not keep it simple? 

Buy a home you can afford in a place you’d be happy to stay for the next 10 years. Boost your super contributions to 15% and enjoy the tax deduction while you’re at it. Then start chipping away at building yourself a nice Mojo account with three months’ worth of living expenses.

Boring? Sure. But boring is beautiful when it comes to money. It’s what lets you sleep through the night instead of lying there at 2am panic-refreshing house prices like a gambler feeding a pokie machine.

Good luck.

Scott

Rejection therapy

You would think that, being a well-known person, I’d have an easy time hitting people up for money.

Especially when I’m doing it in my own little country town.

You’d be wrong.

For the past few weeks I’ve been walking up and down the main street of Romsey, armed with the following pitch:

“Hello, I’m from the Romsey Lancefield United Junior Basketball Club, and we’re looking for local businesses like yours to sponsor our club.”

What comes next is almost always awkward.

Generally it’s silence. Sometimes it’s a mercy kill, shooting me down with a quick “no thanks”. Other times they respond like Kate, the girl I asked to my Year 10 formal: “Oh, that sounds … interesting. Can I get back to you?”

But I keep at it. After all, resilience is the new buzzword – especially for kids. 

As screens have come to dominate our lives, we’ve not only lost the art of small talk, we’ve also outsourced our rejection to unread DMs. Perhaps that’s why ‘rejection therapy’ has gone viral on TikTok. Mostly it’s annoying extroverts filming themselves asking a barista for a 10 per cent discount on their latte #brave. 

It’s cringe-worthy, but not in the way they think. Anyone who films themselves ambushing a stranger just trying to steam milk at 7am reeks of ... TikTok.

Still, they’re onto something.

Rejection is a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger – and less awkward – it becomes.

And it pays off. Literally. (I’ve got my kids onto it. My 11-year-old is currently negotiating the purchase of a caravan for me. True story. The salesman told me my son knows more about the van than he does. And he’s not wrong.)

Yet don’t film yourself traumatising a barista. Channel that energy into terrorising your telco.

Call your electricity provider, bank or insurer and say: “I’m looking for a better deal – what can you do for me?” They don’t care. You don’t care. It’s low stakes. But it’ll build your confidence.

Every rejection trains you to be bolder, clearer, and more specific with what you want – skills that spill into your career, your investing, and even your kids’ basketball team.

So pick up the phone. Ask for a better deal. Get rejected.

Then go again.

Tread Your Own Path!

I’m Teaching My Kids to Gamble

Hi Scott, 

Have you ever been to one of those arcades for kids where you tap your card, play giant-sized games and then get points in exchange for a very ordinary plastic prize at the end? They are outrageously popular. But, with the loud music, flashing lights and constant ‘ka-ching’ noise, I feel like they are just glamorised pokie machines for kids. I’m not going to lie, though, we’ve been and it’s fun!

Jessica

Hi Jessica,

I have four children so, yes, I have been to Crimezone many times.

Years ago their arcades were a drawcard, but in this era of Fortnite and World of Warcraft they’re the gaming equivalent of a flip phone.

Now you’re spot on — it’s basically a casino for kids now. 

But, instead of stumbling out broke with a hangover, parents walk out broke with a plastic whistle and a kid bouncing off the walls on a sugar high. That’s because the games look and sound — and have terrible odds — just like the pokie machines. 

And in that way they are not only teaching kids how to gamble — just like a casino, they’re coating it in a veneer of fun. But losing money isn’t fun. And that’s why the last time we went we bypassed slap trap alley and instead played ten-pin bowling, with the guard rails up!

(Timezone executives: please send your correspondence to complaints@getinline.com)

Scott

Romantic Comedy Gone Wrong

Dear Scott,

A financial advisory group keeps hounding me with promises of paying off my mortgage faster, using my tax, and retiring early. I’ve hung up on them multiple times, but I finally caved and booked a meeting. Is there any merit in what they’re selling, or is this just another costly sales pitch in disguise?

Sally

Sally,

Pull your bloody head in.

This ain’t a romantic comedy: ‘girl plays hard to get at the start, but eventually gives in, and they live happily ever after’. No, this is more like a horror movie. The guy on the other end of the line is a salesman, and he absolutely has a plan to pay off the mortgage quicker … but it’s his mortgage, not yours. That’s because he’s selling a complex, fee-heavy investment scheme that will make him a lot of money.

Do you want the fastest, safest way to pay off your mortgage?

Make extra repayments.

I know, not sexy. No one’s cold-calling to sell you that advice (except maybe a guy with no shoes). But you know what else isn’t sexy? Getting fleeced by a ‘wealth-building strategy’ that drains your actual wealth. 

So please cancel the meeting. You don’t need a sales pitch — you need a plan. So go to the library and get a copy of my book, and the next time he calls ask him to send you a photo of his bare feet.

Scott

Is AI a Giant Con?

Hey Scott,

I read an article by a leading researcher named Ed Zitron who debunks the hype around AI. He points out that, while companies like OpenAI claim their technology is revolutionary, they’re burning billions in losses. Even the mammoth Microsoft has poured in $13 billion and is still not seeing real profitability. Despite all the buzz, AI still struggles with accuracy, and most businesses aren’t making money from it. Zitron argues that AI’s biggest success so far is convincing investors it’s the future — while users are realising it’s often unreliable and expensive. So, is AI really the game-changing gold rush we’ve been told it is, or is it just another overhyped tech bubble waiting to burst? Should we be more skeptical about its long-term potential?

Daniel

Amen, brother!

AI is so overhyped it’s making the crypto bros blush.

Still, that’s just how the tech world works — every few years, it falls madly in love with the Next Big Thing, only to ghost it when a shinier obsession comes along.

Remember when 5G was going to change everything? Medicine, smart cities, your morning coffee — nothing was safe from the revolution. At Apple’s 2020 iPhone 12 launch, they dropped the word ‘5G’ sixty times in one presentation!

And now?

No one gives a G.

The people making serious money in AI right now are companies like Nvidia (selling computer chips), cloud computing giants, and consultants convincing companies they ‘need’ AI even if it doesn’t do much for them. 

Now, don’t get me wrong — AI is a fundamental technological shift. 

Yet here’s the reality:

ChatGPT has been around for less than two years. That’s toddler-aged technology. Impressive at times, sure, but it’s still eating glue and struggling with basic tasks.

The real breakthroughs? 

They’re probably 20 years away — when AI grows up, stops making stuff up and actually gets context, and businesses figure out how to turn it into real profit.

Yet that won’t stop Wall Street from pumping the bubble today.

Exhibit A: At the recent iPhone 16 launch, Apple couldn’t stop saying ‘Apple Intelligence’ — about as often as they dropped ‘5G’ four years ago. Just don’t ask Siri to set two timers at once. She’ll short-circuit like a 2001 Dell running 37 Chrome tabs.

Scott

My thoughts on the election

In the holidays, I spent $60 in fuel and tolls driving my thirsty ute across Melbourne … 

… to save $30 on a camping dunny. 

True story. 

That’s right, I literally burned more fuel than I saved … to buy a glorified bucket with a lid. (It’s for a camping trip – hey, we’ve four kids that aren’t strong enough to use a shovel.)

Yet I also scored four uninterrupted hours in the car with my 11-year-old son – a day of good chats and dodgy servo snacks. 

Priceless! 

As we drove out the farm gate, we passed what used to be golden paddocks where sheep would graze and old blokes would give you a dusty nod from the top of their tractors. 

Now? 

Sardine tins. Sold at caviar prices. 

The northern fringe of Melbourne — where we live — is growing faster than my inbox after a long weekend. But the roads? Still the same goat tracks, just with more SUVs and road rage. 

As we hit peak-hour gridlock, my son let out a theatrical sigh.

“Perfect,” I said. “More time to read election billboards.”

We passed Clive Palmer glaring down at us blowing his own trumpet.

“Is that our version of Donald Trump?” my son asked.

“Sort of. If Trump was raised on talkback radio and meat pies.”

As we snaked our way down the highway we passed billboards of ‘dead-eyes’ Dutton, and ‘tiptoe’ Albo. Seriously, these two have all the charisma of suburban accountants debating depreciation schedules. 

“All the billboards mention the cost of living”, remarked my son.

Spot on, mate.

And the biggest cost? The roof over our heads — rent or mortgage. That’s where the squeeze is. 

Australian homes are now some of the least affordable on Earth. And to afford them we’ve racked up world-class debt. Back in the mid-2000s, the average house cost four times the average income. Now it’s more than eight.

It’s clear that we’ve priced ordinary Australians out of their own neighbourhoods.

So what are the bold economic plans we’ll be voting for in the election?

Well, Labor wants to slash deposits to 5 per cent. Which is as dumb as it is dangerous. Remember, the US subprime crisis was created by politicians making it easier for broke people to buy homes. 

Not to be outdone, Dutton, the so-called economic conservative, is promising to allow first home buyers to raid their super and write off their mortgage interest. 

It’s madness. 

Both policies are like turning up at an auction and handing everyone a suitcase full of cash. It doesn’t make homes cheaper. It just lets buyers bid higher — and history shows they always do.

And the result?

It drives house prices higher. It drives rents higher. 

It seems like both sides have designed their housing policies to fit on a highway billboard: 

Big font. Feel-good slogan. Eye-roll logic. Paid for with borrowed money. 

And in doing so they’ve turned the great Australian dream into a financial trap. (Welcome, postcode povvos!)

After a long day of driving we got the portaloo and made it back home. Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that our national housing plan was cooked up in the same aisle as the dunny bucket: cheap, flimsy, and bound to leak. 

Tread Your Own Path!

Our First Marital Spat

Hey Barefoot!

My husband and I have had our first marital spat. Ironically, over whether to insure my engagement ring. He knows that I’m pretty hopeless with my belongings, but now after four years of not losing it I've made a case to reallocate the $550 annual insurance fee elsewhere. Please mediate and help us decide whether to insure or not to insure!

Sarah

Hi Sarah

You’re insuring a ring for $550 a year?  

It must have so many carrots the Easter Bunny has put it on his wish list.

Now I’m sure you understand this, but you’re fighting about something that is purely emotional. It’s not logical to wear the price of a second-hand HiLux on your finger ... but hey, no judgement.  

Welcome to marriage!

Most home and contents insurance policies already cover your ring – but only up to a certain amount, often just $1,000. If your rock’s worth more (say, $10,000), you’ll need to specify it on your policy and cough up for the higher premium. That means getting a valuation certificate and jumping through a few hoops. It sounds like that’s what you’ve done.

Now, let’s get practical.  

If you rarely take the ring off, and don’t live in Purf, there’s a very good chance you’ll never lose it.

However, let’s look at the worst case scenario and you do lose it.

You’ll feel terrible. Your husband will be angry (and he’ll very likely use it as ‘exhibit A’ in any future fights you have).

Will you rush out and buy the exact same ring? 

Maybe. 

Will replacing it make you feel better? 

I don’t think so. That’s a sunk cost – both financial and emotional.

My advice? 

Save the insurance money. Instead, each year spend that money on booking a cheeky Airbnb, share a bottle of red, and toast to a lab-grown diamond if the worst happens. Cheaper, shinier, and no ethical guilt. And remember: the size of the rock has nothing to do with the strength of your marriage. (But correctly stacking the dishwasher? That’s another story.)

Scott

The Dim Sim of Australian Politics

Hi Scott,

I’m 32, a teacher, and renting with my boyfriend (also a teacher). We’re working hard and saving where we can, but the idea of owning a home in Melbourne still feels out of reach. We don’t have rich parents or guarantors – my mum also rents, and my partner’s parents are still paying off their home. I was doomscrolling property news (as you do) and saw an article quoting a speech by Opposition Housing Minister Michael Sukkar and the Liberals’ plans to ease lending rules to help buyers without the Bank of Mum and Dad. You’re the only finance person I actually trust – does this mean anything for people like us, or is it just pre-election noise?

Penny

Hi Penny,

Michael Sukkar is the Dim Sim of Australian politics – hot on the outside, cold in the middle – and his ideologically driven policies are a weird mix of soggy cabbage and mystery meat that will make you chunder. 

Here’s the soy sauce:

When you apply for a home loan, the bank checks if you can afford it even if interest rates go up.

Right now, the government regulator makes them add 3% to the current rate – just to be safe. 

So if the rate is 6% they test whether you could still make repayments at 9%.

It’s called a ‘stress test’ – and it’s there to stop people getting in over their heads if (or, let’s be honest, when) rates rise. And, as a financial counsellor, I think it’s a thoroughly sensible policy that keeps the screws on bankers.

Dim Sim disagrees.

He argues that by lowering the buffer first home buyers would be able to borrow more. Which is true.

But let’s think about it for, say, six seconds:

Lowering the buffer would mean everyone could borrow more – so they would – and all that would do is drive up housing prices even further. 

Sukkar’s plan is like eyeing off the last rubbery dim sim that’s been sitting in the servo steamer since last Sunday. Penny, I know you’re hungry, but if you swallow what Sukkar is selling, well, just make sure you have a hazmat suit handy, a toilet roll in the freezer, and a plumber on standby.

(For the record, I have been equally unimpressed by Labor’s ‘Help to Buy’ first home owners scheme.)

Scott

What I’m doing with my money

It’s 5am. 

I’m at the farm, sitting here at the kitchen table, staring at my screen …  and watching the US stock market get absolutely hammered. It has plummeted close to 5% since I went to bed last night, in response to Trump’s ‘Liberation Day’ tariffs.

Journalists and media pundits absolutely live for days like this. There are so many ‘bloodbath’ headlines. So much clickbait casserole. So much ‘breaking news’. 

And every article is saying pretty much the same thing: Trump’s tariff plan is stupid. That it will plunge the US economy into a deep recession. That it will have devastating impacts around the world.

Scared yet?

Look, it makes total sense that you may be thinking to yourself:

“This is a really uncertain time to be investing. None of this sounds good. Maybe I should just sell my shares and move my super to cash until this clears up.”

Well, let’s talk about that.

I have a coffee in my hand. The kids are still asleep. It’s just you and me. Today I’m going to tell you what I plan on doing with my own money. But, before I do, let me give you my take on the Trump tariffs.

First, this is not meant to be sound (or sane) economic policy – it’s a negotiating strategy. Trump views the world in terms of winning and losing, and he wants every country on earth to lose, so that he (and America … but mostly he) wins.

Second, and even more importantly, he’s just told every American that the global system is rigged, and that America is being unfairly treated. 

Now, I don’t think that’s true. In fact, since World War II, free trade has lifted more people out of poverty than at any other time in history. Yet facts don’t matter. 

Besides, this line of argument gives Trump someone to blame when the economy tanks: he had the guts to stand up to the global bullies – it’s their fault, not his.

Third — and let’s be honest, most predictably — he’s keeping the world’s attention glued to him like a toddler with a tambourine.

So, back to you.

You’ll hear people say that now is a very ‘uncertain time’ to be an investor.

Yeah, nah.

The truth is that it is always an uncertain time to risk your money. If you think it’s safe, you’re simply not paying attention. However, what history teaches us is this: the price you pay for earning long-term life changing compound gains is having to stomach short-term uncertainty.

And here’s the thing about trying to protect yourself in the share market: you don’t just have to be right once – you have to be right twice. First, you’ve got to guess when the market will fall further. Then you’ve got to guess the exact moment to jump back in. And spoiler alert: no one rings a bell when it’s safe to invest again. (Just ask the people still waiting to buy back in after the Covid crash.)

So what should you do instead?

Simple. My advice hasn’t changed since I wrote The Barefoot Investor.

If you’ve got a home loan, focus on boosting your super contributions to 15% and pay off your mortgage like your future depends on it – because it does. That’s the plan. Boring? Maybe. But it works.

Then, in the final three years before you retire – whatever age that is for you – consider getting your super fund to invest your future employer contributions in cash. The goal is to build up a buffer of three to five years’ worth of living expenses (after any pension payments you may receive), so when the market drops you don’t have to stress or sell. You’ve got time on your side.

As for me? I’ve paid off the home loan. So every month – rain, hail, or full-blown Trump tantrum – I throw money into three low-cost index funds. The louder the noise, the cheaper the shares.

Tread Your Own Path!

Slim Dusty and the Nine-Year-Old

Dear Scott,

My name is Imogen. I’m nine years old and live in Melbourne. I was camping with my country cousins at Christmas when my uncle made me a deal: he’d give me $50 if I could learn and recite one of his favourite Slim Dusty songs.

It’s a poem by Henry Lawson called ‘Peter Anderson & Co’. I had to recite it by heart by 10 January 2025. It was tricky at first, but I got there – and I won the $50! (I gave my little sister $10 because she helped me.) My uncle said I should invest the rest. Scott, do you have any ideas for what company I could own a share in? I love animals! Please could you write back with some ideas? My mum  reads your column – maybe you could put your suggestions in there? Also, I’ve read Barefoot Kids – it’s the best!

Imogen

Hey Imogen,

I’d never heard of the song, so I looked up the lyrics. They went for three pages (!), with lines like:

See if you can raise a drink, old man, I’m feelin’ mighty bad

Hot and sweetened, nip o’ butter, squeeze o’ lemon, Pete, he sighed.

That’s just weird!

Yet good on you for memorising it – you certainly earned your pineapple.

So here’s what I think you should do with your forty bucks.

First, given your love of animals, I think you should donate $10 to a local animal shelter or the RSPCA. Even $10 can help buy two warm blankets for a puppy, cover food for a cat for nearly a week, or pay for a microchip that helps a lost pet find its way home.

Second, ask your parents (or your uncle) to help you google “kids’ investing apps”. Plenty of them let you start with just a few bucks, so you can use your other $30 to invest in Aussie shares. That’s right: you’ll own a slice of a real company – like Woolies, Coles and the banks.

Pretty grown-up stuff.

And you know what’s cool about that?

You’re memorising this stuff when you’re nine – most people don’t hear the tune until they’re 59. You are going to be so wealthy. I can feel it.

Finally, your uncle sounds like a fun guy. Why not challenge him back? If he can memorise Taylor Swift’s ‘Shake It Off’, tell him you’ll give him $1!

Scott

Cup of Coffee Tax Cut?

Hi Scott,

I’m a mum of two toddlers and watched the Budget hoping for something meaningful. The tax cuts are fine, but $5 a week won’t stretch far with the way groceries and rent are going. The Treasurer says we’ve turned a corner economically – is that really the case, or just pre-election spin? I’m trying to make good decisions for our family, but it’s hard to know what to believe. Would love your take.

Narelle

Hi Narelle,

There was nothing meaningful in the Budget.

The main takeaway?

Don’t look to the government for help – they’ve got enough problems of their own.

Yet, as you’re a mum of two toddlers, let’s talk about your occupational drug of choice:

Coffee.

I’m writing this in a café, newspapers spread out, reading headlines like:

“Labor’s ‘top-up’ tax cut is enough for a coffee – and a brazen pitch for votes.”

Bulldust!

I just paid $6 for a macchiato.

(Yes, my coffee order sounds very … Melbourne. But my doctor says I need to ease off the cappuccinos – something about my belly turning into a buddha.)

Six bucks for a watery espresso with a tablespoon of froth!

So, no, the tax cut’s not even covering your caffeine. And I doubt voters will give a frappuccino about it either – especially with the average price of a coffee tipped to hit $7 within six months.

Why?

Three reasons:

Wholesale bean prices have doubled in the past year.

Café rents and power bills are skyrocketing.

And high staff costs. Sunday rates mean your man-bun barista is on $39/hour (and even then the poor bloke still can’t afford his rent!).

And that’s why it’s been a brutal year for your local café, Narelle.

Higher prices mean more people will bring it from home, grab a servo brew … or skip it altogether.

And that is why nearly one in 11 hospitality businesses have shut shop in the last 12 months.

So, Narelle, has the economy turned the corner?

Not if the price of coffee is anything to go by. It’s a frothy little sign that things are still running hot!

Scott.

The one thing I won’t tell my son

My 11-year-old son was in his jim jams reading Harry Potter.

“Get out of bed – I want you to watch the Budget with me”, I urged.

“What’s the Budget?” he said with a yawn.

“Hurry up, it’s starting now on Channel 2.”

“What’s Channel 2?” he asked innocently.

Kids these days.

Now, even though he’s still in primary school, I figured he’d be a good proxy for what the average Aussie thinks. (Then again, this week his school had ‘Maths Day’ and to celebrate he took it upon himself to cut his chicken sanga in the shape of pi, so maybe not.) 
 
Anyway, with a few clicks he managed to find ABC streaming.

“Parliament House is like Hogwarts … just without the magic”, I joked.

To his credit he dutifully watched the young wizard (Jim Chalmers) try and cast his spell over voters. When it was finally over and all the politicians were celebrating and slapping each other on the back, I switched off the TV and asked him what he thought.

“Well, he didn’t talk much about climate change and sustainability. And there also wasn’t much about artificial intelligence or robotics. I mean, clearly that’s the future”, he said.

Yes it is.

AI and humanoid robots are going to reshape the world more than the iPhone did. Climate change is going to punch a hole through the economy and the planet. And my son is going to live through the upheaval. This will be his reality.

Yet you wouldn’t know it listening to Jim on Tuesday night.

He did the same old Ctrl-C, Ctrl-V trick that every Treasurer has been doing for decades:

Tax more.

Spend even more.

Cross your fingers and hope China keeps buying rocks.

Jim told us he’s thinking about the future – but what he really means is the next four weeks (leading to the election), not the next forty years.

Still, I was curious to find out if my little maths man had picked up on the numbers that Jimbo spat out.

“Did you catch how much the government debt is, mate?” 

“Was it a billion?” he guessed.

“Ah, no. It’s set to hit $1 trillion dollars next year”, I said.

Silence.

“How many zeros are there in a trillion Dad?”

I actually wasn’t sure, so I got out my iPhone and asked ChatGPT.

“There are 12. Another way of thinking about it is that it’s one million million dollars”, I said.

“And do they have a plan on how they’re going to pay that money back?” he asked.

“Actually, no. In fact, they’re planning on adding to the debt over the next 10 years”, I said.

“Wow”, he said, in a way only an 11-year-old could. 

And with that my little Harry Potter went off to bed. 

Now it was a school night and I didn’t want to give him nightmares, so I avoided telling him the truth:

It’s highly likely he’ll spend the rest of his life paying off this debt.

Tread Your Own Path!

How Low Can My Shares Go?

Hi Scott,

I stupidly put $9,000 into shares before Trump, when prices were high, but now they’ve gone backwards! Yikes! I haven’t sold them (yet), but I’m just wondering how low can they go? Obviously these tariffs and trade wars are biting, but will it end? And how can we tell when the lowest point is reached? And will it ever recover?

Helen

Hi Helen, How low can your shares go? Well, my back-of-the-envelope calculations say that you’re down about … $700. Boo. Bloody. Hoo. Helen.

Seriously, if you’ve going to invest, you should be prepared for your shares to (temporarily) be cut in half. 

It’s happened before! 

Yet here’s the key: the market has always bounced back, and then gone higher. And that is why we invest: it’s because the share market really is the greatest wealth-building tool in history … but only if you allow your money to keep compounding.  So, here’s your three-step survival guide:

First, only invest in index funds with money you don’t need for at least five years.

Second, have enough Mojo – cash in a savings account – so you can sleep at night and not panic sell.

Finally, be like me – only check your shares once or twice a year. You’ll be much happier and wealthier for it.

Scott

Should I Marry a Kind Loser?

Scott,

I have my own company that’s worth a bit of money, and I own my own home and car. I earn $250,000 a year. However, I’ve been dating a guy for about two years who doesn’t have anything. He earns the minimum wage, can’t save, and is consistently struggling. Everyone I know keeps telling me to leave him. Yet he is the kindest soul and my best friend – he’s had a really rough upbringing and just keeps hitting bad luck. Still, I’m scared he is going to live off my back the rest of my life. I’m 30 now, and I want to get married. But should money be the deciding factor in this relationship?

Mary

Hi Mary

Let me be clear: I’m a finance guy, not a relationship coach.

To me, dating is like shopping at IKEA: everything looks cute and stylish under those soft Scandinavian lights. You stroll through the aisles, picturing how perfect it’ll be in your home.

Marriage is like dragging the flatpack home, realising the instructions make no sense, and discovering – halfway through assembly – that you’re missing three screws and the whole thing is lopsided.

Right now, your guy is that wobbly, half-built Billy bookcase – no savings, no financial stability, and no clear plan. Maybe he can pull himself together. Yet you’re not his Allen key, Mary. 

If he truly loves you, he’ll prove it. Hand him The Barefoot Investor and give him three months to get a better job, start saving, and show he’s serious about building a future with you. What if he can’t?

Well, you know what to do with wonky furniture that won’t stand up on its own – dump it on the nature strip and move on.

Scott

My fight with the government

The teenager stood in front of me, holding my burrito, shaking her head.

“We don’t accept cash – use your card”, she instructed, in the same tone that I use when my parents ask whether it’s ‘safe’ to download the latest update on their phone.

“But I don’t have a card!” I pleaded with the fast-food worker.

She scanned my face, looking for clues, for a good 10 seconds. 

I wanted to tell her that I was doing an experiment of using only cash for a week, and that I was in fact a successful financial expert. And also that I was really hungry. But I didn’t do any of those things. I just stood there like an idiot.

“Can you call someone?” she said, her expression changing from annoyance to pity.

“I don’t have a phone on me. And even if I did … my wife wouldn’t help”, I whined.

No burrito for Barefoot!

Look, this week has been a pain in the rump. 

As in literally: I’ve had a huge bulge in my pockets from lugging like a kilo of coins. 

“Why are you jingling like Captain Feathersword, Daddy?” asked my four-year-old one evening.

Argh, me harties!

Yet, as I went to bed that night, all that jingling got me thinking: 

How much does it cost to create our cumbersome coins?

So the next morning I called up the Royal Australian Mint. 

And that’s where things got really … minty. 

After days of getting ghosted multiple times, I finally got on to an executive from the Mint.

“Your request is currently with the privacy department … because it’s commercial in confidence”, she said patronisingly.

“Commercial in confidence? Who the hell are you competing with, the Vietnamese dong?!” I joked.

She did not laugh.

Look, I get why they don’t want people asking pesky questions about the cost of coins. After all, the Mint is basically the Blockbuster Video of the Australian Government. According to the Reserve Bank, in the 12 years to 2022, cash transactions plummeted from over 60% to just 13% (and that’s the dude in the singlet in front of you at the Aldi checkout).

The result is that not only is the Mint producing way fewer notes and coins, it’s flowed on to their bag boys, Armaguard, who are broke. (The company is now acting like a homeless dude begging for money outside of Woolies. Got some change, bro?)

“You are not the first journalist to ring up and ask for this information. They call up every week. We don’t give it out”, said the Mint executive dismissively.

So that was that.

Except this Blockbuster bureaucrat didn’t know she was up against Capt’n Feathersword! 

So I immediately called up the Minister responsible for the Mint, Andrew Leigh.

“How much does it cost to create our coins?” I asked the Minister’s office.

“If the Mint won’t tell you, we can’t tell you. What the Mint says is gospel”, the Government spinner said dismissively.

I took a deep breath and said calmly:

“No, your Minister is God and he writes the gospel. And I think taxpayers have a right to know how much our coins are costing us.”

She took a deep breath and snapped:

“What was your name again? Is this for a podcast? How many followers do you have?” 

“I’m the Barefoot Investor. Look me up.”

The next day I got a very friendly, and apologetic, text from her boss (MP Andrew Leigh):

“Scott, I’m sorry the Mint wasn’t able to get you the figures you were after. As you’d appreciate, the Mint makes the call themselves on issues like disclosing costs.”

Actually, Minister, I don’t ‘appreciate’ highly paid bureaucrats deciding they’re too important to answer to the people who pay their salaries. This ain’t North Korea. Yet.

So, in the words of that old slapper Will Smith, I think it’s high time I get ‘jiggy with it’ and tell you what I really think:

Not only am I a huge fan of cash, I actually believe it is worth the cost to taxpayers to keep it circulating. 

Here’s why:

First, because it’s part of our national identity, and our security.

Case in point: Sweden has gone all in on having a cashless society – so much so that they’ve got the lowest amount of physical cash floating around of any countries in the world. But guess what, they’re now having second thoughts. 

In November 2024, the Swedish Ministry of Defence sent every household a cheery little brochure entitled ‘If Crisis or War Comes’, advising citizens to withdraw and use cash regularly, keeping at least a week’s worth on hand in various denominations – because if cybercriminals or hostile nations decide to pull the plug on digital payments, tapping your card won’t buy you any Swedish meatballs. 

In other words, if the Vikings are worried about a digital apocalypse, maybe it’s time to stash a few pineapples under the mattress.

Second, because it’s an awesome visual aid for teaching kids the value of a buck.

And, finally, because the people who really run Canberra – the Australian Tax Office – despise cash, since it can’t be tracked. They want every payment to be electronic so they can suck up all that data and feed it through their AI supercomputers to track our every financial move.

Besides, this week’s bureaucratic bulldust is exactly why we should never surrender cash.

Tread Your Own Path!

I’ve Been Bawling My Eyes Out

Hi Scott,

I’m in the middle of this cyclone in Queensland. I have just found out I’ve been scammed after reading your ‘scam the scammer article’. I’ve been bawling my eyes out and I’m writing this with blurred vision. They drew me in with all the tricks you described. Even worse, I applied for a short-term loan on the scammer’s platform to trade but have not paid this loan back. I’m afraid they will come for me and want their money. Is this possible? I hope you can help in answering this question as I am not doing so well emotionally because of this.

Christina

Hey Christina,

I’m really sorry you’re going through this. I can only imagine how overwhelming it must feel, especially with everything else happening around you.

So I have bad news and good news:

The bad news is that you’re right – it’s a scam. Any money you’ve put in is gone and, unfortunately, there’s no way to get it back.

The good news? The ‘loan’ they roped you into doesn’t actually exist. They have no legal power over you, and you don’t have to pay them a cent.

Now there are three things I need to do:

One, block the scammers on WhatsApp, Facebook, and anywhere else they try to contact you.

Two, reach out to IDCARE (idcare.org) – they’ll help you with support and online security.

Finally, pick up when I call you later this week – I just want to check in on you.

You’ll get through this and come back stronger. Promise. 

Scott