Long Walk to Financial Freedom: Cutting the Cable Cord

(Note: This entry is the first of an occasional series on getting myself debt-free.)

Hello, my name is Writing Diva, and I need to get my financial house in order.

I hit rock bottom earlier this month when I prepared my household budget and realized that to live within my budget, I would have to forfeit food. Not happening.

One might wonder how I arrived at this nadir. Regardless of the salary cuts I have endured as a California state employee from 2009 through 2012, I am responsible for how I handle my finances. I neglected to ask myself repeatedly the basic question, “Can I afford it?” (I should have asked myself that same question in late 2006 when I bought my townhouse shortly before the housing bubble burst. But that’s a topic for another entry.)

My credit card payments couldn’t be cut. I could pay on time but only the minimum amount. As for my electricity/gas bill with Pacific Gas and Electric Company, I could cut my electricity usage, including air conditioning.

But the deepest cut came through my cable bill. On April 19, I canceled my television and Internet services. I still have my landline phone because I couldn’t bear to give up my phone number, which is easy for most people to remember. However, I will shop for a cheaper phone service.

Cutting cable was difficult. Every time I would try to cut my cable bill, my provider Comcast would either cut 10 percent from my bill or offer another slate of channels in addition to limited basic. I would watch my shows (“Scandal,” “Grimm,” “Mad Men,” “The Good Wife”) without complaint.

On April 19, however, I said, “Enough.” I unplugged the set-top box and took it to the Comcast store in Fairfield and canceled my television and Internet access.

When I left the store, I felt proud of myself until I arrived home. Silence. Nothing to turn on. No “Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon.” No PBS, which meant farewell to “Downton Abbey” and “Nature.”

I think I’ve went only a handful of days in my life without the blaring of a television set nearby. I admit my life is so pathetic that I sometimes plan my days around what’s on the tube.

I read a historical romance that had an unexpectedly poor payoff. I’ve been searching for a part-time job online through the county library computers.

I expect to get a break in August when two loans are paid off and I receive a small (2 percent) raise in pay. But the walk just started.

Writing Diva

Because...it's my money

"...with my mind on my money and my money on my mind."
-- Cordozar Calvin Broadus Jr. (A.K.A. Snoop Dogg)

There are few things I will discuss with people outside of family and close friends. One of those things I'm reluctant to bring up is my money. I've made many mistakes regarding my handling of money, for which I'm still paying. (Talk about irony!) With soaring gasoline and food prices, I'm having to cut some things out of my household budget. I've just canceled my subscriptions to the San Francisco Chronicle and Newsweek. The Chronicle wants $78 for 26 weeks. BAH-HA-HA-HA-HA!

I haven't gone to lunch with my coworkers in recent months because the costs add up -- $5 here, $10 there, $15 in other places. That's money that could go a long way at WinCo Foods, especially with coupons. It's not that I dislike my coworkers. But these days I need every dollar I can get my hands on. I may even have to take a second job in the coming months.

On Thursday, I made the mistake of joining my coworkers for lunch at Vallejo's. Actually, I didn't order lunch, per se. I ordered a lemon-lime soft drink, nothing more. One coworker asked if I was fasting. "No," I replied, tersely. My supervisor asked if I was hungry. I said I had my lunch back at the office. Then the coworker asked if the union had negotiated a cost-of-living raise. (Considering we're represented by the same unit, she could go ask an SEIU Local 1000 representative that question.) Eventually, I became uncomfortable and was about to pay for my drink and return to work. My supervisor said to keep my money since she was paying for lunch.

"You're a cheap date," she said, perhaps half-jokingly.

"Ah, but not easy," I half-jokingly retorted.

I was pretty grumpy on the walk back to the office. How I spend my money is not their business. I don't ask them how they allocate their finances. Lunches like these are under my "entertainment" budget, which has been spent for the month. If they want my company, it shouldn't matter to them whether I eat or drink or just plain hang out.

Maybe I'm calling too much attention to myself. From now on, I'll eat my bag lunch quietly and disappear when they do future group lunches.

Later that day, my frugality (or cheapness, however one wishes to call it) was justified when my air conditioner went out. I'm taking Monday off to get the thing fixed. One-hundred-degree days are coming this week, and I refuse to swelter in my home.

As Bill Cosby said in a commercial for the now-defunct E.F. Hutton: "Because...it's my money."

Writing Diva