Wally retires

Twenty years ago I had a meeting with a book publisher.

It turned out to be one of the luckiest days of my professional life.

Not because they gave me a book deal, or good advice …

“You write in one sentence paragraphs … it’s just horrible” the publisher said, screwing up his nose. 

(Still do!)

No, it was because he hated my writing so much that they paired me with his best editor, Wally, in the hope he could polish a turd.

We clicked – Wally (unlike the publisher) got my style straightaway – and we’ve been working together ever since.

Life comes at you fast. Back then, Wally was roughly the age I am now, living the dad taxi life. This year he officially retired … and now I’m in the driver’s seat, doing the school pick-ups.

In the lead up to his retirement we’ve spent quite a bit of time simplifying his portfolio, lowering his fees, and ensuring he has three years of living expenses at hand to ride out any Trump slumps.

However, we’ve devoted even more time to avoiding what I think is the biggest mistake retirees make … and it has nothing to do with money.

Most people spend years making sure they’ve got enough superannuation to never work another day in their life. Yet they don’t spend a single day planning what they’re actually going to do.

I remember my old mate, former Deputy Prime Minister Tim Fischer, telling me before he retired: “I’ve spent the last 12 months preparing for my retirement.”

“Surely you’d be on a good pollie pension”, I joked.

He gave me that classic Tim stare. “I’m not talking about finances, Scott. You need to treat your retirement like it’s a full-time job.”

At the time, I thought he was being cute.

But Tim was never cute. He was wise. And he was dead right.

I’ve had thousands of conversations with retirees, and I can tell you the happiest ones are not those with the biggest SMSF balance – they’re the ones with purpose and a plan:

Monday morning, 9am. What’s in your diary? 

Someone once said that when blokes retire they default to the ‘3Gs’: golf, gardening and grandchildren. The problem is that none of these are full-time pursuits. (And, as the owner of four energetic grandkids, I can confirm they’re best enjoyed casually, not part time.)

Tim had it right: treat retirement like a job – just one with unlimited holidays and no annoying colleagues (well, apart from your co-CEO spouse). 

This week Wally returned from his first official tour of duty as a retiree: four weeks in Venice, eating gelato with the rest of the Aussie boomers.

“I read this book called The Barefoot Investor on the plane”, he told me.

“Go on”, I said.

“And apparently one of the riskiest things a retiree can do is to completely turn off the income tap”, he said. “Besides, your columns still need a bit of polish”, he said.

Tread Your Own Path!

P.S. SCAM ALERT

In just a few days, 1,200 people have been tricked by a fake me on Facebook.

They’re running a “pig butchering” scam — fattening you up with fake trading tips on WhatsApp before stealing your money.

If you see my face promising easy money… it’s a butcher in disguise.

Don’t click. Don't like. And if this page pops up in your feed, please do me (and a lot of others) a favour — report it.

My Husband was Fearless

Hey Scott,

My husband was an avid follower of yours, and with his passing last year I was so glad we had put together our Fearless Folder (after you wrote about it in your book years ago). Through the grief and stress, that one simple act stood out:  everything I needed was there: passwords, accounts, emails, solicitor details… all safely stored in our fireproof safe. At such a traumatic time, I can’t recommend this enough. Just being organised and prepared made an enormous difference. It was brilliant. Thanks again, Scott.

Wendy

Hi Wendy,

I’m so sorry for your loss. It sounds like your husband’s fearlessness gave you strength, even in the toughest moment of your life.  And thank you for sharing this… you’ve probably convinced more people to get their act together than I ever could.

Scott

New Mum is Ghosted and Gutted

Hi Scott,

I’ve been trying to sell an investment property since early 2024. A buyer came through, signed everything, and I was told the contract was unconditional. But they only paid $1,000, not a real deposit, and kept stalling on settlement. Weeks dragged into months. The tenants moved out, so we were bleeding money with zero rent, still paying the mortgage.

So I found a lawyer, despite the expense – I just couldn’t watch that nasty person walk away free. Well, the lawyer couldn’t even verify the buyer. The name was ‘Jenny Tren’, but there was no ID on file and no way to trace her. We couldn’t sue. I’ve copped thousands in losses – two advertising campaigns, legal fees, settlement costs, months of mortgage repayments – and relentless stress. I’m giving birth to my second baby next week, and I’m still lying awake at 5am thinking about this mess. Who do I speak to? Can I track this ghost?

A furious, sleep-deprived mum-to-be

Hello Mum-to-be,

Bloody hell, what a mess.

No wonder you’re awake at 5am. You’ve been screwed around by amateurs who couldn’t sell a sandpit.

Seriously, a thousand bucks down and no ID? It sounds like your real estate agent thought they were flogging a Labradoodle on Gumtree, not handling a property sale.

Now most property sales require a 10% deposit. It’s not just a tradition, it’s a form of protection: if the buyer bails, you keep the cash. But in your case they vanished into thin air and left you holding the bill.

Something stinks here, and it’s your agent who stepped on the turd. 

Here’s my advice. Have your lawyer ask the agent for a full written statement: specifically, how they vetted the buyer, why they let that tiny deposit slide, and why no ID was ever collected. If they are found negligent, the agent’s professional indemnity insurance may cover your losses.

Good luck with the new bub. This is one dirty nappy that you don’t have to change. It’s their mess – make them clean it up!

Scott

I Make $180K but I Hate My Life. Should I Quit?

atomic habits meets the barefoot investor

“I’ve got a surprise for you”, said my old boss, who was over for lunch at the farm.

He’d been cleaning out his garage earlier that week and found something he thought I’d want to see.

He pulled out a cassette tape with “Barefoot Investor Episode 1” scribbled in Sharpie – a recording of my very first university radio show. And he’d even bought a cassette player from the local op shop so we could all listen to it.

My eldest held the cassette like a relic from another age, while my youngest poked at the Sanyo stereo, completely baffled. So I grabbed his little finger and pressed it down on the plastic play button. My voice crackled through the tiny tin speakers.

We all listened to the show. It was rough around the edges. Somewhat juvenile. But the real kicker? It was the same advice I’m giving now, almost 25 years later:

Live below your means. Pay yourself first. Don’t go into debt for stuff that loses value. Invest in low-cost funds and stay the course.

Same then. Same now. Same in another 25 years.

So, if the advice is timeless, here’s the real question:

Why the hell am I still doing it?

And, more to the point, why isn’t everyone rich?

Because, even though the advice does not change, the person hearing it does need to change – and what needs to change is how they see themselves.

Most people are stuck trying to be good with money. Wrestling with it. Fighting their nature. Relying on willpower and weekend motivation. That’s exhausting.

So how do you actually change?

James Clear, author of the multi-million-selling Atomic Habits, nails it:

“True behaviour change is identity change.”

Without realising it, my own bestselling book helped people do exactly this.

Within a few pages, people were sitting down with a glass of wine and switching to a better bank account. Basic? Maybe. But for many, it was their first good money decision ever.

And every time they opened their wallet that little Orange card reinforced the belief that they were good with money. Once they took on that belief and kept working through the steps, their confidence grew.

As James Clear also says:

“Every action you take is a vote for the type of person you wish to become.”

The beautiful thing about that crackling cassette tape? It reminded me that good money advice is timeless. It doesn’t need updating, revolutionising or disrupting. It just needs someone willing to become the person who follows it.

So, who are you becoming?

Tread Your Own Path!

Where Are They Now?

Hi Scott,

You won’t remember me, but 12 years ago I reached out to you, desperate for help. I had made a bad property investment and then found out I was pregnant. You reached out and personally called me. I was a single mother, struggling both financially and emotionally as I prepared for the birth of my baby girl. 

I did the hard yards. I read your book, worked my arse off, and followed your advice. I’ve often thought about writing to thank you, but kept waiting for the ‘perfect time’, which of course never comes. But your words were true: “You will come out stronger, even though you don’t think you will”. And now I have hard-won lessons I can pass on to my daughter.

Thank you for everything

Kim

Hi Kim

Ahhh, you got me! (Or perhaps it’s the hay I’m feeding to the sheep that’s getting in my eyes.)

Congratulations on all your hard work, and for sticking at it – I’m really proud of you.

Here’s to all the hardworking Barefooters out there who are  slogging away in silence, paying down debts, building up their Mojo, and creating a better life for their kids. 

You’re changing your family tree, and leaving a legacy that’s worth much more than money.

Scott

The Controlling Husband?

Hi Scott,

I'm a father of three (ages 9, 5, and 1) who handles all our family finances. My wife has no interest in finances or managing household money, which leads to arguments and stress over large purchases.

I’m working hard to future-proof our family – extra mortgage payments, super contributions, investing for the kids’ education and housing – but I’m doing it alone.

Your recent email about financially controlling relationships hit home. I don’t want to be that person, but I’m scared about what happens if something unfortunate occurs – illness, death, or family changes. My wife would be completely unprepared.

How do I engage my wife in our financial planning without being controlling? I need her involved for two reasons: so she’s protected if something happens to me, and because major financial decisions shouldn’t be mine alone.

Graham

Hey Graham,

Our wives must be kindred ‘don’t give a toss about money’ cousins.

My wife, Liz, couldn’t care less about investments, super balances, or how many books I’ve sold. Her eyes glaze over. She’s far more focused on what I call ‘Liz-gistics’ – the daily do-or-die mission of keeping our four kids alive and at footy practice.

The truth is, my entire Buckets and Date Night system was born because Liz (my fiancée at the time) didn’t care about money. I thought, “if I can come up with a way to keep us on the same page, that’s a win”. 

So … I bribed her. Garlic bread, wine, the Romsey pub – 20 minutes talking money before dessert. That was our deal. These days, the finances part takes about five minutes, and the rest is us ignoring our phones and eating too much pasta.

But here’s the kicker.

Once a year, I sit Liz down and take her through the Fearless Folder. That one sticks. She’s overheard too many distraught widows on the phone with me who didn’t know who their husband’s super was with, let alone how to access it.

She still doesn’t want the details, and that’s fine. But she deserves to feel safe and confident that if something happens to me she won’t be left in the dark.

So here’s my challenge for you this week:

Write a letter to your wife – the letter you will attach to the Fearless Folder that she’ll read if you’re not here.

Pour your heart out – what you love about her, what you hope for the kids, and why you did everything you did to protect them. That letter will put everything into perspective for you, and it will cut through to her in a way dollar figures never will.

Then, book a Date Night. Pour her favourite wine. Tell her you’re not trying to control her – you just want her to be okay, no matter what happens. Show her the Fearless Folder. Read her your letter.

She’ll get it.

More than that, I think she’ll feel deeply loved.

Scott

The controlling husband

Picture this.

A car comes out of nowhere and hits you head-on. You don’t stand a chance. You die at the scene.

Two weeks later, your partner is slumped at the kitchen table, sobbing. They’re surrounded by unopened bills, funeral invoices, superannuation forms they don’t understand, and your locked phone buzzing with random Facebook messages from people you barely knew.

They’re grieving. Exhausted. Overwhelmed. And now they have to deal with all this … crap.

I’ve seen it happen over and over again. Someone dies unexpectedly, and their partner and/or kids are left scrambling – trying to find a will, bank accounts, funeral wishes. Some can’t even access enough money to pay for the funeral upfront.

Brutal. And completely avoidable.

So I want you to answer me this one simple question: 

If you really love your family, would you leave them a mess like that?

That’s why I created what I call the Fearless Folder.

It’s a simple folder – digital or physical – that holds everything your family needs if you die unexpectedly.

Not just your will, but all the small but vital stuff that turns grief into hell if it’s missing:

• Your will. Don’t have one? Get it done this month with a lawyer (not a will kit).
  

• Powers of Attorney. So someone can act for you if you’re mentally or physically incapacitated.
  

• Superannuation binding nominations. Your will doesn’t cover your super.
  

• A list of bank accounts and investments.
  

• Login details – email, bills, banking, social media – so your executor isn’t locked out.
  

• Funeral instructions. Cremation or burial? Simple or elaborate? Write it down.
  

• A final message. A short letter telling your family how much you love them.
  

Some keep their Fearless Folder in a fireproof safe at home, with a spare key given to their executor. Others set up a dedicated email address with everything scanned and stored securely, with instructions on how to access it.

Best practice? 

Do both. Originals in a bolted safe. Scans in a dedicated estate email with two-factor authentication (via an app, rather than SMS). And tell your executor exactly where everything is.

Look, death is a morbid topic. But ignoring it won’t stop it from happening. It just turns your final act of love into an unintentional act of cruelty.

We spend hours planning a holiday. Weeks researching a car. Yet we won’t spend a couple of hours making sure the people we love most aren’t left sorting out a bureaucratic nightmare while grieving.

Now, picture this.

Your partner walks to your study, grabs a key from the top of your bookshelf, and unlocks your fireproof safe. They see a folder labelled: ‘Fearless Folder – Everything in One Place’.

They open it. The first page reads: 

“I love you so much that I’ve prepared this for you. It has everything you need to manage my passing.”

They flick through it. Everything’s there. Then they read your final message … and the tears come.

That’s what real love looks like.

Tread Your Own Path!

I’m at Breaking Point

Hi Scott,

I’m at my breaking point. Three years ago, my husband was seriously ill – you’d think that would be a wake-up call. Since then, I’ve begged him to set up basic insurance and wills. We’re in our mid-40s with two kids. He’s the higher earner but has ZERO life insurance, TPD or income protection. Not even default cover. I’ve helped him get quotes, offered to write wills online myself, but he won’t commit to anything. He hesitates over every sentence. Meanwhile, he’s happily researching stock investments. 

We’ve argued about this countless times. I’m not doing it for me – it’s for our family’s basic protection. It’s like car insurance, just in case. But he treats it like I’m asking him to plan his funeral. I’m fed up and stressed. How do I make him understand this is his responsibility as a father and husband? Or do I just take matters into my own hands?

Jill

Hi Jill,

You’re right to be fed up. You’ve carried this alone for too long.

So here’s what I want you to do:

Make him a coffee. Butter some toast. Then put this under his nose and ask him to read it.

Hey mate,

Your job is to protect your family.

And getting insurance and a will is a huge part of being a protector and provider.

If you die tomorrow, your wife becomes a single mum with no income and two kids to raise alone.

You don’t think it will happen to you, but I see enough grief-stricken widows to know that it does.

Spending a few hours planning for it is the final way of saying ‘I love you’.

In fact, to help you along, next week I'm going to write a column that I want you to read.

Stay tuned.

The Holiday from HELL

I am trying to dig deep and be strong and brave.

My husband has bowel and lung cancer with a poor prognosis. His oncologist encouraged us to take a family holiday for memory-making with our kids (9 and 11) before treatment starts. So we booked $2,300 in accommodation in Melbourne through Airbnb for July 3–7. Twenty-four hours before departure, the surgeon said my husband needed emergency lung surgery – no other dates available.

The surgeon provided a compassionate cancellation letter. The Airbnb host initially supported cancellation but then declined when it went through Airbnb. Airbnb says it’s the host’s decision, the host says it’s Airbnb’s. We got back $300 from $2,300. We’re now facing mounting medical bills, and a future without my husband. Paying for a holiday we can’t take is overwhelming. We paid with our Macquarie Black Card and have lodged a travel insurance claim, but I’m not holding out much hope. Any suggestions for who can help us get our money back?

Christine

Hi Christine,

First, I’m so sorry you’re going through this.

I spoke to Airbnb on your behalf. They’ve decided to give you a full refund.

I hope this helps ease just a little of the stress during such a heartbreaking time.

Wishing you strength and some peace in the days ahead.

Scott

My Son is a Disaster

Hi Scott,

My son is a disaster. Is this just a 'son' thing?

For his 18th birthday, I sacrificed the first car I’d ever owned so he could have freedom and independence. It was a great little car with full service records and a reliable mechanic. Five years later, he called it “a hunk of junk.” I said: “It wasn’t junk when I gave it to you.”

Now he’s over 30, buying his third cheap car, and heavily hinting about my old Mercedes (worth under $10k). He hasn’t asked outright, but the hints are constant. After years of ingratitude and fleeting thanks, there’s no way I’m handing it over. I’ve learned my lesson.

But here’s what hurts: I no longer feel joy in giving. I’m scared of being taken advantage of again. Teach your sons gratitude, Scott, or this pain will be yours too.

Lesley

Hey Lesley,

Is it a son thing?

Nah. It’s a human thing.

Here’s what I’ve learned: people don’t value what they haven’t earned. You gave him your beloved first car, filled with memories and sacrifice. To him, it was just… free. That stings. But it doesn’t mean he’s ungrateful about everything. It just means your giving needs boundaries.

About the Merc? Next time he hints, shut it down kindly but firmly:

“Mate, I’m keeping it. You’ll value your next car more if you buy it yourself.”

Don’t let his hints rob you of your joy in giving to others who appreciate it. The best things in life are earned – and that’s a lesson he still needs to learn.

Scott

Life in the Backseat of My Car

Living in the country, we spend half our lives in the car (the other half is spent waiting for kids to finish sport). So lately I’ve developed a new trick to keep my road rage at bay: I fire up ChatGPT and run ‘car trip trivia’ with the family. It kills time, stops them fighting (for a few minutes), and sometimes even teaches them something useful.

Anyway, here’s your turn. Grab a coffee, sharpen your brain, and take on this Barefoot Money Quiz. Let’s see if you’re smarter than a bored nine-year-old stuck in the back seat.

1. Which of these decisions has been shown to have the biggest long-term financial impact?

a) Choosing the right career.
b) Marrying the right person.

c) Picking the top-performing super fund each year.

2. You’re 25 with $30,000 in super and earn $70,000 a year. Your industry fund charges 1.5% in fees, but you switch to an index fund charging just 0.25%. By retirement, how much extra money could you end up with (assuming 7% returns)?

a) About $130,000 extra.
b) About $480,000 extra.
c) About $620,000 extra.

3. You meant to pay your credit card bill on time, but life got in the way (a.k.a. you forgot). You were three weeks late, but you’ve caught up now. Will this impact your credit report?
a) No, late payments aren’t recorded on your credit report unless they’re over 30 days late.
b) Yes, because being more than 14 days late means it’s added to your credit history.
c)  It might, but only if you were reported as ‘in arrears’ by your bank.

4. You have no debt except your mortgage, and your Mojo is full. Your Fire Extinguisher bucket should go towards:

a) Paying down your mortgage.
b) Increasing your Blow Bucket.
c) Funding a Smile Bucket purchase.

5. When official statistics report that “house prices have doubled over the last 20 years”, do these figures account for the money homeowners spent on renovations and improvements?

a) Yes – they include all renovation and improvement costs.
b) No – they only consider the sale prices, ignoring any renovation expenses.
c) Sometimes – it depends on the type of renovation and the reporting body.

The crazy thing is the average Australian fails this test — how do you measure up?

 Answers below (no peeking!)

Tread Your Own Path!

P.S Here’s the answers:  1b, 2c, 3b, 4a, 5b

Your Advice is TERRIBLE, Barefoot

Scott,

Your advice last week to Olli, the 10-year-old with ADHD wanting to start a footy coaching business, was terrible. Firstly, he is not a trained coach. Secondly, the concept of volunteerism is DESTROYED by someone like Olli doing this type of thing. I’m a 67-year-old basketball coach and have never asked for payment to help players or other coaches. Over the last 20 years, I’ve watched the idea of giving back all but disappear. Volunteering now means, “Yeah, I’ll help – how much will you pay me?” By encouraging Olli down this path, you’re teaching kids the wrong ideas. Coaching should come from experienced or professional coaches. I don’t mind the entrepreneurial angle, but this sets a precedent with real consequences down the track.

Neil

Hey Neil,

You sound like the type of coach who calls timeouts during warm-ups.

Look, I get you’re passionate about volunteering, and good on you for giving back for 20 years. But the only precedent that I see here is a 10-year-old kid with ADHD finding focus and joy.

Besides, what Olli’s really offering is premium babysitting with a footy thrown in. The parents get a break, the little kids get to run around with an older role model who genuinely loves the game, and Olli learns that passion plus effort can equal pocket money.

My book Barefoot Kids is all about this. I teach kids to start their own little businesses because it unleashes a wave of creativity, passion, and work ethic, that you’ll never get by bribing them with pocket money to clean their room.

Finally, having him make the connection between doing what he loves and earning from it – that’s the gold right there, coach! Without it, we end up with kids studying dentistry just for the gold fillings.

P.S. I bet Olli’s sessions are way more fun than yours ever were.

Help, I’m Flying High and Dry!

Hi Scott, 

I just got an email saying I’ve been caught up in the Qantas hack. I checked my points straightaway, and thankfully they’re still there. And I changed my password. But I’m freaking out that my personal details have leaked. I use the same login for heaps of sites (because, let’s be honest, I’m a mum and can’t remember a million passwords). Do I need to change my name and start my life over?! 

Emily

Hey Emily,

You, me, and six million others got hit (we’re all in the same jumbo, I’m afraid).

I checked my Frequent Flyer points and nearly fainted when I saw all them all gone … then I realised my wife had stolen them for her girls’ trip overseas for her 40th later in the year. (True story!)

Now Qantas has said that no passwords, credit card details or passport information was compromised.

Yet you’re still right to worry. 

Your name, email, phone number, date of birth and frequent flyer numbers are now in the hands of crooks. And they can build on these details and use your leaked details to apply for credit in your name, and you wouldn’t even know until debt collectors come knocking.

In the US, people can freeze their credit file, which slams the door on scammers. I’ve long argued we should have the same here. But our credit bureaus, who keep files on all of us, make hundreds of millions selling our data to banks, so they’ve got zero interest in letting us lock it down. (And they’ve got first-class lobbyists making sure Barefoot economy-class blokes like me aren’t heard from the cockpit in Canberra.)

So, for now, change all your passwords (use a password manager – the Apple one is decent), and check your credit report at least once a year (you can get a copy of your credit report free, every three months, by writing to each credit agency – Experian, Equifax and illion).

Oh, and there’s no need to change your name, unless you’re changing it to Alan Joyce, which gets you an automatic upgrade to the pointy end of the plane.

Scott

The Desperate Mumma

Dear Scott,

As I write this my two-year-old is screaming in his cot and I’m in tears because we’re financially ruined by the rental market. We’ve been forced to move five times in six years – because of landlords selling, or moving back in. And each move wipes out our savings. In 2021 we were left homeless at Christmas, staying with friends for six weeks. My husband does food delivery, and I run two businesses from home while caring for our toddler. We work incredibly hard but live week to week.

Now we’re being kicked out again. We’ve been approved for a new place but need a $4,000 bond that we don’t have. We’re looking at a 29% payday loan just to avoid ruining our perfect rental record. Despite budgeting carefully and trying to follow Barefoot principles, we can’t get ahead. Every time we build up our Mojo, another forced move destroys it. Where do we go for help? I’m drowning and can’t see a way out.

Desperate Mumma

Hello,

The rental market in this country is broken – but you sure as hell aren’t.

You’ve survived five forced moves, built two businesses from home while caring for a toddler, and kept a perfect rental record. That’s not drowning. You’re one of the toughest mother-truckers going around!

But here’s the thing – payday lenders are loan sharks. Their loans are not meant to be paid off. They’re designed to trap you in debt until they eat the food off your table.

My advice?

Call the National Debt Helpline on 1800 007 007 and speak to a financial counsellor. It may be that you can apply for a Rentstart Bond Loan, which can cover 100% of your rental bond – interest free.

Know this: you have done nothing wrong. Your story is the ugly underbelly of a policy failure that’s been years in the making, that Canberra doesn’t care about fixing.

Keep fighting for your family – you’re tougher than I’ll ever be.

Scott

The problem with renting

My old man is buying a new car.

“This’ll be my last one … it’ll see me out”, he said.

(He’s been saying that with every car since he traded in his ’76 Hilux 25 years ago.)

“Why not get a Tesla?” I asked.

I told him about the Model Y, which did something that would have that old Henry Ford turning in his grave. It rolled off the factory line last week and drove itself – no humans – 30 minutes to its new owner’s house. 

(And presumably, if you miss a repayment, it’ll get a notification that you’re a deadbeat, turn itself on, open the garage door, and silently creep back to the showroom in the middle of the night.)

Amazing, right?

Wrong.

“Why would I want a bloody electric car?” he fired back.

Clearly Elon’s Ketamine-induced Nazi saluting has left a bad taste with some car buyers. However, my old man’s concerns with EVs were more practical: where he would charge it, how much it’d cost to fix, and what it’d be worth in a few years.

And he’s not alone. While the Government reckons we’ll all be driving EVs soon, last month they made up just 10.3% of car sales (and that’s actually a record high!).

My view?

Cars have always been a terrible investment. EVs just let you feel morally superior while you do it. 

And with China flooding our market with cheap electric cars, prices are only going one way. In China, BYD – the world’s biggest EV maker – recently slashed its local car prices by 34% overnight.

I grew up choosing between a Ford or a Holden (okay, and Toyota and Mazda). I’m convinced that, for my kids, cars will be like shopping for a TV at JB Hi-Fi: lots of weird-sounding Chinese brand names that get better and cheaper every year.

In other words, it’s an electric race to the bottom … with no one at the wheel.

But not for my old man. He’ll be at the servo, filling up with petrol and grabbing a Chiko Roll, while the rest of us are finding an extension cord.

Tread Your Own Path!

What You Can Learn From a 10 Year Old

Hi Scott, 

My name is Olli, I'm 10 years old and I have ADHD so I have lots and lots of energy. That's why I love footy, I get to burn it all off! My mum and I have been reading Barefoot Kids and it got me thinking ... maybe I could teach little Auskickers how to play footy and be their coach? I'm thinking one session would go for about an hour. I'd teach them the skills they want to learn — and maybe a few extras to impress the parents so they'll want to come back. I was thinking $10 a session. But I don't know if I need insurance, and it sounds expensive. What do you reckon? Do you think it's a good idea? Is there anything I haven't thought of yet? Thanks Scott, I hope you can get back to us (me and my mum). 

From Olli (& Carla)

Hi Olli (and Carla),

I don’t like your idea… I absolutely LOVE it.

And no, I’m not just being nice because you’re a kid.

Here’s a little secret: heaps of successful entrepreneurs have ADHD – and just like you, they turn all that energy into action.

You’ve nailed the essentials: you’ve got a real service (coaching), a clear audience (Auskickers), a smart price ($10 sounds spot on), and you’re already thinking about how to keep customers coming back. Honestly? You’ve thought this through better than most adults who write to me.

Now, insurance. If your mum’s there supervising – and you’re doing the dishes without being asked (top-tier business move) – I reckon you’re good to go. Start with a couple of kids you know. If it takes off (which I think it will), you can deal with the boring paperwork later.

Carla, this is parenting gold. Your son has cracked the code: he's turning what he loves into something that helps others and puts money in his pocket

Olli, you’re my rookie entrepreneur of the year.

Scott

I Saved $1,200 With ChatGPT

Hey Scott, 

I just wanted to say thank you: I finally called my health insurer and used that ChatGPT script to ask for a discount. They ended up cutting $1,200 off my premiums over the next two years! 

Mandy

Mandy,

How do I say this gently?

Well … I don't.

I NEVER said you should use AI for private health insurance!

That's like letting a robot do your prostate exam because it watched a YouTube video on squirrel grips.

Sure ChatGPT can help you sound confident on the phone. But can it tell you if that "cheaper" policy covers your dodgy hip? Or whether you’ll be whacked with an out of pocket $10k fee after a late-night kebab goes full jihad on your intestines?

Here's the truth: insurers can legally give up to 12% off your premium – but they often do it by quietly downgrading you to a junk policy with more holes than a hammock.

So by all means use AI to write your script. But when it comes to actually comparing your cover, go to privatehealth.gov.au. Yes, it looks like it was built by a retired TAFE teacher in 2004 — but it’s kickback-free and it works.

Look, I'm not anti-tech. I'm just sick of Silicon Valley tech bros flogging AI like it's Jesus in a hoodie.

Use it wisely. Your backside will thank you. 

Scott

My Husband told me he's Having an Affair ... and I'm eight months pregnant!

Hi Scott,

I’m not sure if this is the right way to reach you – but my husband of 12 years just told me he’s having an affair. I’m eight months pregnant. We also have a two-year-old and a five-year-old. I’m still in shock. But here’s the strange thing: I’m not panicking about money. We’ve followed your steps religiously. We have solid Mojo, index funds, a modest home that we’ve paid 25% off in 18 months. 

So while I’m heartbroken and terrified about what’s ahead, I’m also deeply grateful. Because of you, “how will I survive financially?” isn’t the first question I’m asking. But now I need to start asking the right ones. How do I protect our financial position through separation? Should I slow down mortgage payments to preserve cash flow? What’s the smartest way to divide the assets we’ve worked so hard to build?

Anna

Anna,

I’m so sorry you’re in this situation.

You’re not the first woman this has happened to, but because of your hard work and financial smarts, you have put yourself in a powerful position. And that means you don’t have to stay in a relationship with someone who betrayed your trust.

Now isn’t the time for big financial changes – not until you’ve spoken to a lawyer and have a clear path forward. So, for the next few months, just keep things steady.

Here’s what I do want you to do this week:

First, gather every bit of financial info you can – bank accounts, investments, super, mortgage, house title. Take photos of everything. 

Second, call your bestie -- you need someone in your corner.

Third, book in with a family lawyer. They’ll explain your rights and help you map out what comes next.

And then?

Do what you’ve already been doing brilliantly: be a calm, powerful force for your kids

Because one day -- when they’re old enough to understand -- they’ll know how strong their mum was. 

That she stood tall when life fell apart. That she protected them with everything she had.

And that’s a legacy worth living.

You’ve got this Anna.

Scott

Why I wrestled a bogan in the street (true story)

Let me tell you the last time I made a giant arse of myself in public.

It started, as these things usually do, innocently enough. 

I hadn’t had my morning coffee and was searching for a café when I wandered past a pawn shop, and thought, Why not?

“BEE BAW,” blared the door chime – unnecessarily loud.

Behind the counter sat a bloke in his mid-forties: bleached blonde hair, an NBA 2017 All-Stars tee that looked vacuum-sealed to his body, and a (possibly pawned) Shane Warne-style diamanté earring.

He didn’t look up. Just kept scrolling on his phone.

So I coughed. 

Then I coughed a little harder.

Eventually, he raised his head, locked eyes with me, and let the silence stretch just long enough to make it awkward. Then he said:

“You look like you need some money.”

Without missing a beat, I shot back: “What interest rates do you charge?”

He slowly put down his phone, eyeballing me.

(Blokes with no money don’t ask about the interest rate first up)

“Get out of my shop!” he snarled.

And that’s when the trouble started.

As I walked out, I noticed a poster of his interest rates and charges in the window. And for reasons I still don’t quite understand, I whipped out my phone, and did the most Karen thing I’ve ever done in my life:

I stood on the sidewalk and took a photo of the poster.

And then I heard …

“BEE BAW”

Shane Warne was bowling out the doors with steam coming out of his blingy ears. 

“Put your phone away, this is private property!” he yelled.

And then he made a jelly-rolled lunge for my phone.

Two middle aged men grunting and swearing and making a ruckus in the street. Not my finest moment. 

Yet later on I looked into it, and what I found made me even angrier.

It turns out, pawnshops have been around since the 15th century. Back then, they were known as banks of pity, lending small sums to people doing it tough, in exchange for something small they owned.

They haven’t changed much since.

Here’s how it works:

You give them your Nana’s necklace, they give you cash.

Pay them back (plus enough interest to buy your nana’s first home in 1974), and you get it back.

And if you don’t? 

They flog it in the front window next to a busted NutriBullet, a lawnmower that hasn't started since the Rudd Government, and a copy of Shrek 2 on DVD. Don't think of pawnshops as sleazy Salvos … they’re really loan shark shops.

And make no mistake: in the current cost-of-living crisis, these guys are not offering a lifeline, they’re stealing food off the table from kids.  You see, these loans are structured to roll over again and again, which means some end up charging the equivalent of a staggering 480% interest. And it’s all perfectly legal, because pawnshops are largely exempt from the National Credit Act.

My view?

The government needs to close the loophole and hold these outfits to account. Because the only thing sadder than a dirty old NutriBullet in the window … is knowing someone skipped dinner to keep it there.

Tread Your Own Path!