When numbers and feelings don't mix

Last week when I spent Spring Break with the grandkids, my grandson kept opening up a music box that played "Feelings," a song that hasn't gotten any less sappy since it debuted in 1974. Every time I heard those tinkly opening notes, I wanted to grab the box, snap it shut, and toss it out the window--but I didn't, because I'm not that kind of grandma. I have years of experience in biting my tongue and I'm not going to forget those skills now.

This week, though, I have felt an awful lot like that music box: every time I open my mouth, I want to talk about feelings. Everyone's talking about numbers and money and percentages and interest rates, and all I want to say is it feels like a pay cut!

It's not a pay cut. It's not a pay raise either, but that's no surprise--we haven't had raises in a number of years I'm too depressed to add up. What we're experiencing is a reduction in a small but significant stipend teaching faculty receive from earnings on an endowment fund directed toward recognizing the value of teaching. To explain more clearly: some years ago, a bunch of people donated money to a fund to benefit teaching faculty, but the annual amount we'll receive from it has been reduced from a small but significant amount to an even smaller but still significant amount. So, yes: it's not a pay cut but it feels like a pay cut, particularly on top of all the other cuts we've been experiencing for the past couple of years.

But there's more. The reason the stipend needs to be cut is--and believe me, I have feelings about this--that we've evidently been overpaid for the past five years. I've seen the numbers and they are convincing, so intellectually I can agree that it was not wise to habitually pay out more in stipends than that specific fund could produce in earnings, but you could poll every single faculty member on this campus and ask whether they've felt overpaid for the past five years--or, really, ever--and not a single one would say yes. Everyone feels overworked and undervalued, but the numbers suggest that we have actually been overpaid from a fund designed to reward the value of teaching, and now we will have to endure a correction to bring that reward back in sync with what the endowment is producing, so, according to the numbers, there's really nothing to see here. We have been overvalued and now we will be rewarded more in line with what the numbers say we're worth, sorry as that valuation might be. End of story.

But it still feels like a pay cut, and I still feel like spilling out a sappy story every time I open my mouth, but I fear that someone might just snap me shut and toss me out the window, so I'll just sit over here and bite my tongue.

Wish granted, without fanfare

I was a little surprised to come home yesterday and discover that, in my absence, absolutely nothing horrible had happened. I didn't encounter any falling trees, failing appliances, or marauding mice. That's right: we've gone a whole blissful week without a single household disaster more serious than a broken coffee mug.

I did, however, receive the bill for last week's massive plumbing problem involving installation of a new water heater, which I calmly paid even though it was the kind of bill that not so long ago would have sent me into panic mode. That's right: I encountered a big ugly bill without a qualm. How can this be?

For so long--pretty much my entire life, if I'm honest--I've wished that someday I would reach the point where I wouldn't have to worry about money, but somehow I got there without even noticing. Feeling broke has been such a long-standing habit that it's hard to convince myself to let it go and live like a normal person.

It's awkward to talk about money, whether I have it or not. And I'm not claiming that I have money to burn or that I intend to give up my frugal habits, but I'm learning to enjoy how it feels to have a bit of a cushion in the bank account, to pay off some nasty old debts, to increase my annual contribution to my pension fund, and to be able to say yes to so many options that formerly would have been met with a resounding no. I bought new hiking shoes even though my old ones had not fallen totally to pieces! Donated more than the usual amount of money to a cause I care about! And paid a big ugly plumbing bill without tears! All of this would have been unthinkable just a few years ago.

I sometimes wish I could go back in time and tuck a few twenties into my past self's pocket. That time our car broke down while we were camping in North Carolina and had no cash or credit cards to cover the repair cost? I'd love to go back and relieve some of that anxiety. Or I'd go back to the little girl wearing her cousin's hand-me-downs and buy her some pants that fit, or to the young mom who found herself constantly saying no to her children's demands and give her the power to finally say yes. 

But since that's not possible, I'm looking for ways to pay it forward--and not just by paying my plumbing bill promptly. I think of all the people who have helped us through rough times in the past, and I want to honor their contributions by doing some good in the world. What are some small but meaningful ways to make the world a better place? What's your most rewarding experience of paying it forward? If someone handed you $100 and told you to improve the lot of some struggling person(s), where would you put it? Tell me your stories! I can't think of a better way to celebrate finally figuring out that I don't have to live as if I'm perpetually broke.