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Month: May 2009

  • May 17, 2009

    Why do YOU blog?

    Just a wee little topic I replied to on a 20SB thread.

    Why do I have a blog? I guess, to keep myself accountable. Tolearn more about money, and be part of a community.

    So I can be totally open about personal finance in a way i can’t IRL. I mean, I am pretty honest with the people I know, but none of them are in even a remotely similar situation financially speaking so it’s quite isolating sometimes. Nor do I want to burden them with my worries. So I vent here…

    To satisfy my narcissistic streak! Of course.   target=”blank”>i_love_blogging-787805

    And to a small extent, to be creative – I no longer play guitar, or write songs. I’ve tried photography and enjoyed it and might take it up as a hobby next year. I really enjoyed my advertising papers last year; the process of creating a visual and painstakingly refining it for hours at a time until it’s JUST right. But I wasn’t quite creative enough for it. My domain lies in writing, and maybe in page design – because I am LOVING doing page layout at the moment. Editing & Design is possibly my most favourite paper. Blogging isn’t super creative, but it does the trick for now given how little leisure time I have this year.

    And it’s addictive! When I first started I never imagined I’d be posting so frequently. I thought I’d run out of things to write about pretty fast. But I’ve been writing posts pretty regularly, and it hasn’t been difficult at all.

    What about you – why do you blog? Does it ever feel like a chore?

  • May 15, 2009

    You know what’s crap?

    Building a cycleway the length of the country. (For tourism? Really? You trot that one out for whose benefit, exactly? I sure wouldn’t go anywhere to cycle down a strip of concrete in NZ, let alone overseas).

    Not boosting Work and Income eligibility. (If now isn’t the time, well, WHEN is? People need support now, more than ever.)

    Cutting tertiary funding. (You don’t wanna support us, and you don’t want us to further our education to improve our future prospects. Brilliant.)

    I feel totally vindicated by how I voted in the election, and stand by my decision.

    /end rant

  • May 15, 2009

    To a Mr Bitter from Titirangi

    I was merrily eating my lunch yesterday at work and flicking through the paper. I landed on the letters page – which is always good for a bit of a giggle – and lo! a submission entitled Recession victims!

    According to this writer, the members of the “debt embracing, profligate generation X and Y still have their jobs by and large, so their income is intact. With interest rates dropping as a result of the recession, their financial situation has improved significantly.”

    Wahey! Wow. Something I might expect to see from the mouth of an American, but here?

    I think this person is just a LITTLE out of touch. It’s Gen Yers who are (among others, although not exclusively) being laid off. Last in, first out. Unemployment is climbing, and those with less experience and fewer qualifications are more likely to be let go, and to find it much harder to secure any kind of new job.

    By no means is the income of my household intact. And sure, interest rates are dropping, but this only affects savers and mortgage holders. My savings rate has dropped like a rock and is hovering somewhere around inflation level. But you know what? Credit interest rates are exactly where they were before the recession began, if not higher. Prime does not seem to affect unsecured credit, for whatever reason. I don’t know if this is a Downunder phenomenon, and quite frankly I don’t care to find out. I just know that’s the way it is.

    So please, KL Matthews, don’t tell me that my financial situation has improved significantly. And don’t deign to tell me that I will benefit from the recession. I’m going to find it harder to get a job after graduation, probably be taken on at a lower pay than I might have otherwise, and with fewer benefits.

    My partner may be the next spending three years out of the workforce, which we hope will pay off in the long term. If the recession hadn’t happened, odds are he would still be gainfully employed and at a decent living wage. But in the meantime, our “financial situation” has plummeted to depths I could never have imagined last year.

    Unfortunately, like many who started out with nothing, he does have debt. Debt that he was making progress on, and which has now been halted. Not huge amounts by any means. An amount that I compare to MANY other PF blogger and think well, gosh, that really is nothing. Why am I so stressed? Well, I’m stressed because even at a low level, it’s simply not serviceable for a laid-off person. I’m stressed, especially now, because we do not have a functioning car, among other myriad worries. (Great op-ed here about how the recession is hurting low socio-economic areas, btw, and some proposed solutions. I definitely don’t agree with them all but they’re fascinating! Especially about ensuring quality used cars so people can get around. I can’t stress enough how bad public transport is here. How many times have I talked about the bus service? And with the Govt. investing in the Waterview tunnel and a freaking “nationlong cycleway“, that’s not gonna be improving anytime soon. ). How long will it take to recover and get back on top? Neither of us knows. We’re both living in a state of constant uncertainty. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, not even you, Mr Bitter. Please remove the lemon from your mouth – you’re not the only one unhappy with the way things are, trust me.

  • May 14, 2009

    Throwing out $3 worth of meat

    Tonight I made stirfry, with one of those Asian Wok packet sauces (Chinese BBQ for anyone who cares).

    Unfortunately, it really wasn’t that good. The beef was cooked, but it had a weird sort of soft, fleshy texture inside. Cheap steak, I guess – you get what you pay for. I didn’t manage to finish mine, and BF didn’t put much away either.

    But he did make sure to eat the onions and veges and gravy and all the rice, so ups to him! Our food budget is definitely going further these days, eating cheaper meats and managing to stay at around $120 a week, INCLUDING lunches.

    So right now we have a ton of stirfry meat leftover, and I don’t know what to do with it. I suggested chucking them in some sort of stew, or in a fried rice, both of which BF vetoed (“You need to stop trying to do something with it! It’s CRAP! Just throw it out!”)

    But…there’s so much of it! And it’s meat, precious MEAT!

    I probably won’t end up eating the leftovers…I can’t stomach much more of it. But I hate wasting (relatively) good food. What about you?

  • May 14, 2009

    Weirdness

    So the older brothers of those little wannabe gangsters just came over and knocked on the door to apologise on their behalf.

    They’re having a right good natter with the flatmates, beer in hand, asking how much he wants for the windscreen, insisting if he wants to “fight” they’ll get the boys over to settle it “one on one”.

    I don’t suppose it’s wise to mention to them the fact their brother also probably robbed us, but whatever.

    Honestly.

  • May 12, 2009

    My first job

    I was thinking back the other day about all the different jobs I’ve had since I started working. And then FB and Rainy Saturday posted about their first fast food jobs and their worst experiences…and I decided I definitely had to write a post about this!

    I got my first job at 16, as I remember, at a café in town. I had been looking FOREVER! I applied at supermarkets, restaurants, cafes, retailers, anything and everything. As we all know, it’s so hard to get your foot in the door. But once you get that crucial first job, it’s that little bit easier. I had no experience, bar a local paper run and helping my mum with some mystery shops. But that actually really helped me get the job, because I could talk about the importance of customer service, giving your best all the time and treating every customer well.

    I worked on the weekends, bussing into town and spending my day washing dishes, clearing tables, serving food and coffees and helping to close the store. I eventually progressed to working the till and doing food service, heating up and preparing food, and helping to open the store. I actually really enjoyed it! I got paid well – 8.50, vs all my friends on minimum at 7.60 – and I liked the work; even dishwashing, because the kitchen facilities were brand new and super clean. Although I was by far the youngest, and a bit of an outsider being that I was still in school and only worked one or two days a week, the staff were all really friendly. It was hard work at times, but generally weekends were quiet and we got to relax and chat and read bits of the paper throughout the day. I could happily have stayed there forever, conceivably, but business slowed and eventually they stopped rostering me on. It just kinda faded away. Nothing I could do about it.

    Then I started tutoring. I also got casual work as a food attendant at Eden Park, mainly working rugby games and other events. I managed to move up at one point and they rostered me on as a supervisor, looking after my own little section in the servery. Not long after that though, I got sick of the work and stopped taking their calls. It also involved lots of really late nights, and I didn’t want to be catching the bus or train at midnight anymore and then walking in the dark. My job basically involved serving people fish, chips and calamari rings. We also did filter teas, coffees, and chocolate bars. It was hard work – we were on our feet constantly, it was hot, cramped and neverending, right from first opening of the gates to half an hour after match end. But we got fed (often we got the gourmet leftovers from the rich people’s boxes…platters, desserts, etc) and got occasional glimpses of the action, for those of us who were into that sorta thing.

    I had a stint at a call centre, mainly doing market research with the odd night of telemarketing thrown in. I didn’t find it that bad at all while I was there, but something in me shudders at the thought of doing something like that again. I think I might prefer to do inbound work  – but like someone once said, with outbound calls, YOU’RE in control. With inbound calls, you never know what you’re going to get.

    What else? I also worked at another local café  – this time run by a couple, who mistreated their staff and had insane turnover. I was there for a summer. At the end of it, apart from one other person I was the only waitstaff who hadn’t yet quit. The owners were there every single day, and weren’t afraid to shout at us, try and get us to work 12 hour days, and frequently made our waitresses cry. The one good thing I can say is that I got my first ever pay rise there  – from 10.50 to 11.00!

    And of course, I worked at the movies one semester break. There were perks. We got two free tickets every payday. And we got to see bits of movies while doing cinema checks. And a free drink on each shift, I guess. But the uniforms were heinous, the supervisors were MEAN and the computer systems were totally shitty. I dreaded working downstairs on the counters because of that. I much preferred checking tickets, cleaning out cinemas and doing rounds. It also meant I didn’t have to deal with popcorn, fizzy drink, ice creams and dealing with different pricing (student IDs, special passes, blockbusters) and R-rated movies (determining whether someone needed to be IDed, working out whether they were old enough to be admitted, etc). The onus was all on us for that – it was one thing we couldn’t get wrong, because the ticket checkers upstairs wouldn’t hesitate to send people back down, and we didn’t get refunds for underagers refused entry to restricted films.

    The one thing I’ve learned is how much I appreciate autonomy and being left to work on my own. I hated the rigid structure of some of those jobs. I mean, until I was offered an admin position, every single job I’d ever had forbade us from using our cellphones or carrying them around. Fair enough. I understand that. But I resented it, and like most everyone else, I started keeping mine in my bra or in a pocket if I had one. And I HATED being held to the minute on breaks. When you only have ten minutes for a break, and five of those are spent getting up to the staffroom to get your bag and food and then back down, and supervisors yell at you for taking too long, you’re not going to take too kindly to them.

    So although I’ve never worked in fast food (I don’t think I ever applied at any outlets; I was about to apply to Burger King when I landed my first job just in time) I know what it’s like to be under pressure, dealing with grumpy customers and working in a hot, greasy environment. And I know from experience that I vastly prefer being rushed off my feet to being bored out of my skull…cause one of those two makes the time pass much quicker, and it’s not the second one!

  • May 11, 2009

    Emergency room visit

    As promised, continued on from the last post….

    I’ve never been to A & E before. It certainly was an experience. We saw a guy who cut his hand open, a girl in a fluorescent green dressing gown with a HOOD (how awesome is that?) who’d messed up her back, some guy who swallowed his dentures (a young guy, not an old man either) and a pimp and two prostitutes.

    We were there for, oh I don’t know, two or three hours? The whole night is blurry to me. I don’t know what time we got there, but I’d say sometimes after midnight and got home around 4. I had about 4 hours sleep and then went off to cover the opening of the new local motorway link to try wrangle a story out of it.

    I also got approximately four hours sleep last night, having been to a 21st, and am operating on empty.

    Anyway. The last time that those hoodlums came back around, BF went round the back to get the LL (who was very territorial and keen to go give them the beatdown, actually). Did I mention how rainy, dark and miserable it was? It was so cold, SO damp and BF skidded across the wet grass and up onto the concrete steps, slicing his foot up. After a little cleaning up and bandaging it, we reached the conclusion that we needed to go to A & E and get stitches.

    Yes, sadly, my first thought was to worry about what it would cost. But health is numero uno, and I figured if it cost more than what we had, well we would just have to work something out. BF thought we should wait until morning when it would cost less, but a) we would have no way to get there and b) the lines would probably be heinous during the day. So our awesome friends rallied round and drove us first to St Lukes White Cross – which was closed – then on to the hospital.

    We waited. And waited. I read crap magazines – an HR magazine, believe it or not, a techy magazine and a Home and Garden. We watched Fox News on Prime. And infomercials for Barefoot Science, the ridiculous ab workout thing that uses gravity to spin you round this circular thing, and the Versa Cutter. It was truly mind numbing.

    BF was seen by a consultant right away, but it was another few hours before a doctor actually called him up. He got some painkillers and a local anesthetic (which they had to get an orthopedist in to administer), and crutches. Crutches which cost $45, but we get back $35 upon returning them.

    So it was a VERRRRRRY long night. However, whether it’s because we were at the hospital rather than a suburban A&E, or what, it didn’t cost us anything out of pocket – bar the crutches. As soon as I walked in I saw the sign informing us that visits were free for NZ citizens and residents.

    That was, indeed, the best part of the night. Well, behind the surprise visit from our friends and all their help.

  • May 10, 2009

    No joke….this is my life

    And then came more.

    Last night I heard something breaking, like glass smashing outside. And a shout. I rushed outside, with BF and some of our friends who were over.

    Three little gangster lowlifes had just put a brick through our flatmate’s back windscreen. They took off down the street. BF yelled at them/after them. They came back. Started fronting up and acting all hard and tough and trying to pick a fight. They threw our rubbish bin at our cars. They threw probably five or six bottles at the house and cars. Talking absolute shit and saying “we know where you live” and they knew BF’s name (apparently they went to our school). All kinds of crap and trying to stir up trouble. As if the yelling and bottling wasn’t enough, they started shaking and kicking the neighbour’s fence (they luckily have abig wooden gate and nobody can get in at all).

    Throwing bottles is CHEAP. I do not believe in fighting. But if you’re going to fight, fight fair.

    Anyway, we stayed fairly calm and even though one of them hit one of my mates in the chin, nothing happened. We stayed on our property, called the cops, stayed put. They eventually retreated. The cops never came.

    Same thing happened maybe an hour later; they came back, started shouting and swearing etc again. They took off after the LL and his mates pulled into the driveway – apparently they started hassling them too and stepping to them. Called the cops. The cop car came forever later, simply drove down the street, then zoomed off like a shot when they saw nobody on the roads. It was pissing down, it was FREEZING, and we had given up on standing, waiting outside. BF tried to sprint out and flag the car down, to no avail.

    How is it that the police don’t give a shit about these things? And how is it that we have no means of recourse and no way of protecting ourselves? I am not going to face down people trying to throw bottles at me. There is no reason or rhyme with people like that. I asked, SEVERAL times, “WHAT IS THE PROBLEM?” You know, like, why are you doing this and what is your beef?

    I felt so utterly helpless then, I cannot describe how frustrating that was.

    And again maybe half an hour later. Called the cops. We just stayed inside, and I swear this time those hoodrats started actually coming on to our property. I was so worried they were going to do damage to the house, and put me out of pocket. The cops came an age later and actually came to the door. I jumped out of my skin thinking it was those boneheads actually knocking on our front door.

    And then I realised how badly I handled the whole situation. I should have been scrutinising their faces and noting down their attire. The cops wanted to know if we could identify them. I couldn’t have told you one single thing about them, let alone the colour of their hoodie! I was just so freaked out by the entire situation. BF is hyper observant thank God, because I am not, and I didn’t even THINK to try and observe.

    BTW, at least one of them was the same one involved with the burglary of our house back  in the summer. And probably all of them were to some extent, because that’s how these groups roll.

    And it’s not fucking good enough.

    Seriously, I don’t care HOW bad your life is or what a crap upbringing you had or how bored you are or how drunk you are.

    IT’S NOT ON.

    This morning I went and swept up all the glass that I could. There are so many minuscule little shards that I doubt I’ll ever be able to get them all. But they are probably enough to cause some serious pain – so no more barefooting it around outside. There’s also tons of little broken bits sort of below our immobile car, and in the hollow of the tyres and the spokes of the mags that I couldn’t get to. That’s gonna be a bitch to clean up.

    Oh yeah, and BF ended up in the emergency department till 4am. But that’s a post for tomorrow.

    It’s easy to be a bleeding heart liberal and go on about rehabilitation when you’re comfortably ensconced in your middle class existence in Mt Eden.

    Not so much when you’re holed up in your house afraid to go outside, expecting a rock through your window at any moment.

    I would have loved to have pulled a Denny Crane right then and pulled off a round of shots at those little shits.

    What are you supposed to do in that situation? What CAN you do? How is it that we can’t protect ourselves from (insert choice word here) like that? BF called our cop friend, who merely confirmed how powerless and uncaring police are in such matters.

    I kind of wish I’d just booted those f***wits in the nuts, although that would’ve just enraged them and set them off at our guys. Or possibly even retaliate on me, in which case GOOD because that might have got the cops out here, but then set our guys on them to protect my dignity etcetc. URGH.

    And no, I do not believe the right to bear arms would have solved this. Guns are too easily turned back on you. And if it’s easy for people like myself to get a gun, imagine how much easier it will be for guys like those.

    Four months left on this lease.

    That’s a long time.

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