Channeling Financial Advice

I was driving home from work one day surfing the a.m. radio dial when I came across such a mishmash of messages that I stopped in my tracks. A talk show host named Dave Ramsey was talking about everything from mutual funds to Jesus Christ. On the one hand, he was chastising callers for falling to their impulses. On the other, he was encouraging them to do better.

I listened to Ramsey for the next two weeks as sort of a goof. It was like an audio train wreck that I couldn’t turn away from. In retrospect, I think there was a pretty good reason I was drawn to Ramsey’s show.

Ramsey talked about living within your means, including driving used cars and eating rice and beans. He also talked about paying cash, tearing up your credit cards and building up an emergency fund. He talked about having the right kinds of insurance at the right price. It was commonsense stuff. As Ramsey would be the first to admit, it’s the kind of advice you’ve probably heard from your grandmother or read in best-selling books like The Millionaire Next Door. But Ramsey has an interesting “rags to riches” history and a compelling way of telling the story.

At the time I was listening to this, I was doing pretty well. I had a job I liked making decent money. Nevertheless, his message resonated with me. It wasn’t a goof anymore. I started worrying about things like an emergency fund.

I tried to get things in order. All the while, the program served as a daily booster shot. When people called in with the wrong priorities, I shared Ramsey’s frustrations. When people called in with success stories, I was motivated to join them as debt free.

Later, I lost my job. As it turned out, I needed Ramsey’s message even when I didn’t know it. Having that emergency fund paid off in spades. Boy was I happy that I found that quirky little program.

In the years since, I’ve lost touch with Ramsey’s show. But now, having lost a second job, I’m thankful I never lost touch with his message.

Good Friends in Tough Times

In my last blog post, I wrote about the lows of being laid off, but it hasn’t been all despair. In fact, I’ve been buoyed by the outpouring of support I have received since being laid off by Humana just two weeks ago. The support has come from all quarters, including people I would have expected and some I would not have.

I sincerely appreciate each and every gesture. It’s not easy for people to come forward in such a difficult time. As a matter of fact, many people don’t reach out. They don’t know what to say. Or, even worse, they know they should say something, but fear doing it. It’s as if they think the layoff virus will spread like monkey pox.

That’s why being laid off is so isolating. Life seems like it’s divided between the “haves” (those who have a job) and the “have nots” (those who don’t).Thankfully, most of my coworkers didn’t get caught up in that. They just reacted. And with great compassion, I might add.

For the rest of you, here’s my list of things people need to hear from you after they’ve lost their jobs.

• You're sorry for what happened to them.
• You think they’re a good worker and you’re happy to recommend them.
• You will be looking out for opportunities for them.

That’s it … except one last thing.

• You recently won the lottery and would like to commission them to write your memoirs at an exorbitant salary, starting in the morning.

Since I haven’t heard that last one yet, I’ll focus my energies on finding my next gig, knowing that I have a lot of terrific people supporting me.

Two Bombs in One Day

Ever had a day so bad that even a homeless guy insulted you? That’s the kind of day I had a couple of weeks ago. It was the mother of all bad days.

I went to work knowing cuts were expected. The pending layoffs were the worst kept secret in the history of corporate America. I did not know, however, that I would be part of it. That, as it happens, was a much better kept secret.

It became clearer about the time that my senior vice president called me for a meeting. The meeting was originally scheduled on my floor. That was a mistake, he said over the telephone. Instead, it would be held in human resources. No mistaking that. A few minutes later, an HR person I had never met was talking to me about severance pay and employee assistance programs.

After a few more minutes passed, I was on the street headed toward my car with a folder stuffed with documents and a head full of fog. I barely noticed as a homeless person approached me. He asked if I could spare some money to get him something to eat. “I’m sorry,” I muttered, wanting to be anywhere but there.

“F you,” he replied.

It was a perfect ending to a perfect day.