Mary Hunt - The Financially Confident Woman: What You Need to Know to Take Charge of Your Money

When money talks, it often says good-bye.

anonymous, quoted in Poor Richard Jr.s Almanac

I had my first taste of freedom when I left home in Spokane, Washington, to attend college in California. Ill never forget my first week in Los Angeles. Like my first kiss, it was better than Id ever dreamed, and, quite frankly, I wished it could last forever. The beautiful weather, the palm trees, the lights, and the excitement of the big city were far beyond anything Id ever imagined. I just knew that college would be my paradise on earth.

I intended to waste no time fulfilling my childhood promise: When I grew up, Id be rich. You see, I mistakenly equated my constant feelings of sadness with the fact that I felt poor. It made perfect sense to me that being rich would produce happiness, and I just couldnt wait to be happy.

As Californias newest Cinderella, I had been planning this transition from poor to rich for a long time. The moment I set foot on campus, my dream ceased being a fantasy and became a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I wasted no time opening a checking account. I knew I would need one to keep my money safe. I had a vague idea about how checking accounts worked. After all, I did take high school bookkeeping, painful as that experience was. And I must say that I was surprised that, contrary to my preconceived notions, this device appeared to be simple and quite user-friendly. But I didnt know my checkbook carried a hidden danger.

The first time the idea crept into my mind I was with a group of friendsfriends with cars and freeway savvy who introduced me to the world of California shopping malls. The idea of writing checks with no money in the account was about as insane an idea as Id ever had. Even I knew that was not in keeping with acceptable accounting principles. I halfheartedly pushed the idea out of the way. And seconds later the idea returned.

The more I thought about it, the less outrageous it seemed. After all, whod know? No one, not even the salesclerk, could know exactly how much money I had in my account. I could buy the things I wanted and, as a bonus, impress my friends with my fiscal prowess. Given sufficient time to get used to the conceptabout thirty secondsI didnt think my idea was so insane after all; Id do it just this once.

Unfortunately, my crazy idea worked quite well. Not only were my friends impressed with my ability to keep up with them (they didnt come right out and say it, but I knew), but the salesperson also had to have been surprised by my ability to buy whatever I wanted. Acting rich gave me a sense of significance and, in turn, a fabulous feeling.

I figured out how to shop on Wednesday, get paid from my college library job on Friday, deposit the check on Monday, and have time to spare to cover the checks Id written. Nobody was harmed because no one knew the difference. It was exciting too because it felt like I was getting away with somethingbeating the system. Taking this kind of risk was exhilarating in some crazy way.

I didnt see what I was doing as wrong; I was simply being creative in my efforts to keep up the lifestyle to which I was becoming increasingly accustomed. Even when I bounced checks, I didnt question the procedure Id discovered. I was pretty easy on myself, concluding I wasnt exactly overdrawn, just under-deposited.

My checking account escapades were the start of a destructive habit I allowed to take root in my life: I habitually engaged in the activity of acquiring first and figuring out how to pay later.

Somehow I made it through college without being subjected to public humiliation for having accounts closed due to excessive overdrafts. I escaped being arrested for kiting (the illegal practice of writing a bad check on one account to cover an overdraft on another).