Rant and decant? Eh, in any case, head over to The Second Glass, where I’ve got a short feature this week, and have a look around the site. It’s Boston-based, but still quite nice for the casual or budding oenophile.
Posted in Nosh & Slosh
Some great things can come of the intersection of social media and good old-fashioned shilling. Yelp is leader of the pack when it comes to pulling together great events to engage the user base of locals who supply its content, and this second Yelp Eats Restaurant Week is plenty illustrative of that fact. June 1-June 7, nearly 20 local haunts will offer three course prix fixe dinner menus for just $25 plus drinks, tax and tip. Considering the participating restos include Kinzie Chophouse, Home Bistro, and Nacional 27, restaurants that can run moderate to expensive for a night out, this is a pretty good deal. Details, including the menus on offer, here.
For my money, I’d either choose Home Bistro, which is BYO, or I’d hustle into Kinzie Chop House this weekend, before the Yelp Event begins, because Kinzie is currently running its own Spring Fever dinner prix fixe menu, just $20, through the end of May.
Posted in Nosh & Slosh
One of the things I love about my northside Chicago neighborhood is its wonderful diversity. When I left New York, I was told by many former Chicagoans that this city had a bit of a diversity issue – not that it lacked diversity, but that the city remained segregated in a way New York had not. I was dismayed; diversity was what I loved most about New York, and is indeed what I love most about living in major cities.
Though it took me some time, I did manage to find a truly diverse, small ‘hood where all the corners of the globe seem to intersect. Walking down my street on any given day, I smell curry, greet Somali families out strolling, dodge soccer balls being chased down by Serbian boys. I couldn’t be happier with the makeup of this place.
Of course, one of the beauties of living in a jumbled immigrant community is that, inevitably, enterprising sorts open shops catering to the individual groups, offering them a taste of home. To a foodie on a budget, my ‘hood is heaven.
I am a devout fan of the “ethnic” grocer. Because they are typically smallish joints with extremely focused products, and are often family-run, prices are much, much cheaper than chain shops with overhead that has to take into account price consistency across varying areas, rent and utilities on mega-sized stores, and turnover of “specialty” goods. For instance, the $5 that yield a 5 lb. sack of short grain sweet rice at my local Vietnamese grocer would only buy me a tiny 10 oz. box at the local mega-mart. Cilantro at the market that caters to Mexican and Eastern European shoppers costs about $0.59 a bunch, while at mega-mart, it’s generally $1-$1.20 on sale. A few blocks more, and I can get bulk spices for pennies instead of tiny shakers of the same thing for $4 or $5.
These savings mean I can continue cook adventurously and eat well. I don’t feel deprived of take-out or delivery; I simply learn to prepare and enjoy pad thai and dal at home. As a result, I am willing to walk a few extra blocks for great deals. I get free exercise and save myself a good $20 per trip in the process!
Posted in Uncategorized
Recently, I stuffed the remainder of my severance into an envelope addressed to my landlord, settling up my housing for the next three months. Checking account thoroughly decimated, I set about balancing my monthly expenses against my unemployment benefits.
Turns out my budget is tighter’n a pop-star’s pants. The balance left over after my rent, utilities, student loans, COBRA premium, credit card, transit costs, food and pet supplies are paid each month? $14.
Now, I realize the fact that I can actually pay all that with my unemployment benes is, as a more fiscally conservative friend pointed out, Really Lucky. There are many people who simply cannot stretch the money that far. Still, should I at any point find myself in need of a visit to my doc, a single co-pay would put me in the red. I need to trim more from my budget, somewhere.
I made several cuts right after I was laid off: I canceled my bundled cable and switched to the lowest tier of internet service offered, within 24 hours of the layoff, saving me about $30 per month. My poor cat, once lavished with all-natural food costing roughly $45 per month, now dines on fish-flavored Friskies, available in $14 32-packs at Target. (Despite my enormous guilt over this, he seems to be fine with the change.) Going out? Limited to very special occasions, like close friends’ birthdays, and rare visits from out-of-towners. I, once the queen of rib-eye-’cause-it’s-Tuesday, now refuse to purchase any meat over $2/lb. I eat a lot of pasta these days. It shows.
I did save money this way, obviously, enough to knock out three months’ rent in a single go. But I clearly need to cut more. The question is, where? I’m fortunate that I have no dependents, save the fuzz-butt, and that President Obama saw fit to push that COBRA subsidy through (without that, I’d be $300 in the red instead of $14 in the black). But, as a 31-year-old single, hundreds of miles from family, I am also at a disadvantage: no spousal income to fall back on, no way to move in with the folks without incurring more expense than I can afford (and they certainly couldn’t afford another mouth to feed, anyway). Unless I can get my budget in better order, I am one prescription, or doctor or vet visit, from disaster. So I run through my budget again, looking for additional ways to cut costs:
Rent: Downsizing is not an option. I already live in a studio in a slowly gentrifying ‘hood. My rent is about as cheap as it can be.
Food: I had been budgeting $50/week for food, which allowed me to continue with little luxuries like fresh fruits, budget wine, or occasional takeout, but I think I need to trim another $10-15 per week, so most of that will have to go. I tried the food stamps online pre-screen; as a single with $14 to spare, I don’t qualify. I’m considering turning to a service like Angel Food Ministries, which, for $30, provides participants with a week’s worth of dinners for a family of four (and so should, with the help of my freezer, certainly cover a month of dinners for this family of 1.25). For another $22, I can get a month’s worth of fresh produce. Supplemental food, like eggs, milk, and cereal bought on sale, or with in-house store labels, should only cost another $20-30 per month, according to my considerable research (read: regular Wednesday night grocery circular perusals). That would effectively cut my food expenditure in half. Hey, maybe I could continue to spring for an occasional $5 bottle of wine, then!
Entertainment: Already practically nonexistent. I haven’t been to a movie, theater, or museum in months. The library is my very best inanimate friend. As Mary Gustafson noted in her post on the etiquette of unemployment, joblessness takes a toll on your social life, or can. For better or worse, most of my friends and I were already in financial crisis-prep mode by last summer. I’m the only one to have been laid off, but no one is rolling in dough right now. We’ve been making the rounds of each other’s apartments for movie nights and bellying up to bars with $3 PBR specials for some time. Now I’m cutting out the rare bar trips, and we’ve agreed to rotate the hosting of budget dinner parties. Did I mention I’m good with the pasta?
Student loans: Looks like this is also where I’ll have to make a cut, at least for now. I’ve avoided a deferral as long as possible, because the last thing I want is for the interest on my already astronomical debt to grow, but at this point, a deferral seems the best way to keep money on hand in case of emergencies.
That’s it, really. I haven’t had a haircut, or any salon treatment, since 2007, so I can’t chirp cheerfully about saving money via at-home hair coloring and manicures or somesuch. I have one “pricey” hobby: I’m learning guitar, something I’d paid for just weeks before my layoff, and frankly, that structure – having someplace to go every week, social interaction, purpose outside of finding a new job – is something I am reluctant to let go. I have a few more weeks before the last paid class, and then I’ll have to decide whether or not to use a month of money saved via student loans or prepaid rent to continue.
I’d like to include resources or data for single, child-free, laid off people, but apparently we don’t exist, at least not in any way that translates to interest in the media. (Nothing new, apparently. I lamented this dearth of info with a friend. “It’s one of the annoying things about personal finance,” she confirmed. “The standard is a married couple with kids. Everyone else is an exception.” We singles are on our own, as much as ever.)
I’d be interested in hearing how other singles in the same position are faring, or if anyone has discovered better tips for cutting corners. It’s scary going joblessness alone, like walking a tightrope without a safety net. I almost want to start a club for folks like me, just so we can trade stories and resources. Or at least qualify for a group discount at the Goodman.
Lately, I’ve found myself struggling to remain on the straight-and-narrow when it comes to fiscal responsibility. As a recipient of state unemployment compensation, I know how important it is to stretch those limited dollars as far as they’ll go. I shop the big box stores, private labels, frozen and canned aisles like a pro, but I do it dreaming all the while of the little gourmet luxuries I used to enjoy – the occasional wedge of fourme d’ambert, package of chanterelles, or wine costing over $8 a bottle.
Don’t get me wrong: I’m not a complete food snob. I come from a solidly working-class family, and I actually elected to go to graduate school; I cut my teeth on frozen veg, and still think Maruchan Top Ramen is one of the finest damned foods nature could never have produced. (In fact, I think I’ll go make bowl as soon as I finish this post.) But at some point along the way to adulthood and independence, I learned to love the feel of foie gras melting on the tongue. And foie gras ain’t for the unemployed.
Nor is decent wine. I am, by birth and at heart, a New Englander. The puritanical ethos drifts through the air out there, sucked into the lungs with your first wailing breath. My parents’ home state still has Blue Laws on the books, preventing the purchase of alcoholic beverages in the late evening or on Sundays. So I cringe every time I even consider using unemployment funds to buy a bottle of wine to go with my Hunts-and-Market-Pantry-spaghetti. (If anyone asks, the Fisheye cab sauv came out of my savings. Fisheye, people. On the bottom shelf, with the screw-cap. It’s practically Boone’s uppity cousin.) Fiscal responsibility requires I never spend limited funds on non-essential, non-special-occasion food or drink. Fiscal responsibility is a pain in the ask-sister-Susan.
I didn’t realize just how much my altered habits were affecting me until last week. I was IMing with a long-distance friend (a far more serious foodie than I), lamenting my Marshall’s-clearance flavored morning coffee, when he briefly disappeared from the chat, reappearing moments later with a vague command. “Check your email,” he insisted.
I did, and found he’d sent me $25 via PayPal, enough to get myself “either good coffee or good wine-nothing boring like paying bills.”
Initially, I was reluctant to accept his generosity, but then I considered the spirit in which it was given, and his position: he is securely employed, comfortable, and witnessing a comrade-in-taste laid low by the US economy.
“Aw, thanks. That was incredibly sweet!” I gushed 0.65 nanoseconds later, already excited by the prospect of tasting the berry-ripe, nuanced richness of an honest-to-God Bordeaux without guilt. I accepted his gift, something I would never have done were I still drawing an earned paycheck on a biweekly basis.
I opted instead for a pound of Ethiopian Yirgacheffe from Intelligentsia (at his suggestion), something I’d be able to savor for weeks (damned responsibility again), rather than days, and paid for a $12 bottle of Cabernet out-of-pocket.
(What? If I don’t remind myself of what I’m missing, how will I ever aim higher than a Fisheye-salaried position?)
Later, as I rolled the piping-hot Yirgacheffe around in my mouth, inhaled deeply the perfectly-roasted, subtle scent, I realized just what a gift a friend like that is. Often, when people find their friends have fallen on hard times, they grow distant, afraid that discussing their own good fortune would be an offense, yet fearing their once-friend’s ill fortune might be contagious, or at best an awkwardness best avoided in conversation. Few would even consider sparing a few dollars to gift them with a luxury they can no longer afford, just to keep their spirits up. Hell, *I* wouldn’t have thought of it, or thought any such thing could be so moving.
When I read articles encouraging the still-employed to act as references, to keep an ear to the ground for opportunities and the like, I think, Yes, but I also think that sometimes nurturing a friendship through a bout of unemployment can be much simpler: treating a friend to a little luxury, like inviting them over for a dinner finer than blue-box mac, or offering them a $15 bottle of pinot gris to swill at the end of a long day of composing cover letters and harassing former colleagues for job leads, can be enough to remind them that they are the same people you befriended, down but not out, and able to rise again. These are the gestures upon which lasting friendships are built, friendships that weather toilet-bogged economies. We jobless-but-seeking recognize good will where it is given and remember it, and cherish it, though it may be small change to you.
Now I start my job-hunting days, at least for the next few weeks, turbo-charged by a steamy cup of charity that I adore far more for the giver than the gift, thanking the heavens for my fairy god-buddy. As soon as I’m able, he’ll be getting a giant Gorgonzola-sprinkled rib-eye of gratitude, I assure you.
More tips for helping friends weather a bout of unemployment can be found here.
The internet is overflowing with talk of “new realities” these days. The New York Times reports on trickle-up belt tightening. The Wall Street Journal hosts a blog series by MBAs who, after a year of unemployment, are just getting around to making “tough” budget-cuts like canceling the gym membership. CNN.com breaks news that “In a recession, cheap is chic.” Maxwell Gillingham-Ryan, founder of (not-exactly-inexpensive) home decoration and design website ApartmentTherapy.com, used his most recent e-newsletter to trumpet his satisfaction with our shift to “simpler” pleasures. Says Gillingham-Ryan in the newsletter, “While for many the news is grim…I keep thinking that what we are witnessing is a return to Reality (with a capital R), which is a place that we haven’t been in for a long time. And, despite the pain, this reclaimed sense of Reality is one real bright spot that is worth talking about.”
With each new trend piece about the formerly-very-comfortable being suddenly slightly less so, cost-cutting by cutting your own grass, buying designer duds at Marshalls instead of Bloomie’s, and – horror of horrors! – clipping coupons, I find myself wondering: for how many of us is any of this really new?
Using the metrics implied in each of the articles listed above, I have apparently been living this “new” reality for most of my adult life, despite two degrees and, until recently, steady employment with a solidly middle-class income. So have most of my friends and family. Even the wealthier people I know – and I know a few trust-funders and high earners – were never profligate spenders of the sort depicted in these articles as the old norm.
So while I certainly don’t enjoy tales of the upper classes forced to scale back the creature comforts, I don’t really feel like they should be the face of this downturn, either. As a somewhat newly-minted member of the unemployed masses, my new reality won’t be about clipping coupons, it’ll be about finding out if, as a single person, I qualify for food stamps, and if I can bring myself to accept them if I do. (Right now, though it has been helpfully suggested by friends, I’m having a hard time with the idea. I’ll exhaust all other options first. Once I figure out exactly what those options are, I’ll undoubtedly discuss them here.)
What does the new reality look like for you?
is when it turns out I was right to be worried.
When I typed up the inaugural post for this blog, I was working for one of the largest-circulation shelter magazines in America, making a decent living, getting positive feedback from my superiors for my engagement and output, happy with my job and coworkers. I was also constantly worried I would lose that great job, because for over a year, those of us in the magazine business had watched as one after another major print publication closed up shop due to the faltering economy. The magazine I was working on had already shown warning signs of being one of the next to go: falling ad revenue, new leadership, lots of visits from the higher-ups.
I joked often with friends that I had my resume polished and ready to go at a moment’s notice. That turned out to be wise; just days into the new year, management flew two execs into town to tell the Chicago staff that their 18-month plan for resuscitating the title was being axed after just six.
Now the vision I had for this blog – a chronicle of “living well” on a barely comfortable salary, making clever use of Goodman matinees and Whole Foods discount bins to maintain a life with little luxuries – has to be revised. Now it’s “COBRA or Medicaid?” instead of “Penfolds or Three-buck Chuck?”
Well. Ahead of, anyway.
I am 30, female, single. I work full time. I have no children (save one insane rescued cat). I have student loan and credit card debt, and not nearly enough salary to cover debt, rent and the life I was told I’d deserve if I played the game right.
Now the economy is in the toilet and what spare cash I have after bills and savings buys less than ever. No theater. No travel. Heck, I can barely afford cable.
Can I?
I can live well. I have worked hard, through two degrees and a career. I do deserve better. I will dine out once per week, attend theater, museums and movies at least once per month, travel abroad at least once per calendar year, and I will do it without sending my budget to hell in a designer handbag.
I can make a dollar outta 15 cents. Just watch.
Posted in Uncategorized
