There are lot of new to mining folks here, I’m one of them. Here is my journey and some of the lessons I learned

Why did I go here?

When Bitcoin hit $40k I finally decided that cryptocurrency isn’t going to go away. And if it’s not going to go away I should look into it. The sad thing is that in the early early days of bitcoin I had played with getting a miner going. I even got to the point where it was happily mining away on my computer. But then I had to get back to work and when my computer rebooted I never started it up again. What a loss!
I should also call out, the EtherMining guide is really good. If you are starting your mining journey it’s very helpful

The Wallet

I made the investment in a Ledger wallet. I’ve seen the reddit post that made it to all about poor souls that lost huge amount because of some hack or thievery. If I’m going crypto I’m controlling the keys. I did some research and determined that Leger or Trezor are the best cold wallets. After which I read on Ledger’s site that you shouldn’t mine directly to ledger because it can’t handle a large amount of small transitions (more on this later). Did some google and went with Mew for my mining software wallet figuring I’ll transfer to ledger after.
Here I learned about the magic 20 words or a Mnemonic phrase. Unlike banks, Ledger and Mew don’t hold your account. They are simply devices. If Mew is installed on your phone and if you lose your phone you’re screwed and you can lose all your holdings. Unless you can rebuild your wallet with the Mnemonic phrase that is. Alright, good stuff. I have mine and a safe wallet

And Ethereum?

Of course first I looked into mining bitcoin again. What? You need an ASIC miner these days? Holy shit they cost how much? Alright, who’s number 2. When you start researching about Ethereum it’s pretty freaking cool. This thing could overtake Bitcoin someday and you can mine it with a GPU. Hey I have one of those!

The card

I have a 2070 super which I got shortly after they were released for under $500. I’ve been using it for video games and it’s great. Who knew there would be a run on GPUs and the cards worth more than I paid for it!

The Pool

I quickly learn that solo mining is a fool’s game with Ethereum, you need a pool. I went with Sparkpool simply because it was the largest. As the new guy I don’t need to be trying out the newest pool, I want stability. I also wanted to stay anonymous, turns out all you need is a deposit address. Nice

The miner

Fees to use a miner? The heck? I’m not afraid of a CLI, let’s go with the free one. I download the latest Ethminer. Now we hit the first real challenge as the example configurations were all over the place. After some trial and error I settle on a .bat that does;
ethminer.exe -P stratum1+tcp://

[[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]):3333

We’re mining!

On Sparkpool you can search by your wallet address. After ~10min, there I am. Cool! I’m mining! Change the sleep settings on Windows and I’m mining while I sleep. Now when can I get my earnings? Let’s see they pay out at 0.1 ETH….. Let’s do some math…. Yeah that’s not happening for a long time. Ahh, they pay out on the 28th of the month even if you don’t make 0.1. Just got to wait. And this is where I was for a few weeks

On to Upgrading

I’m mining, what a fun start. I’m not in a position to put together a rig though. Maybe there’s some reasonable changes I can make

The Miner

Let’s start easy, the miner. I see post on EtherMining that Phoenixminer is just the best (I’ve since read the same thing for about 3 different miners). Ok, I don’t like the idea of a fee but I have stats at Sparkpool, let’s see what it does to the average. Around this time I found the guide on EtherMining and learned about adding commands to my .bat file for etherminer or phoenixminer as well. My .bats now start with
setx GPU_FORCE_64BIT_PTR 0
setx GPU_MAX_HEAP_SIZE 100
setx GPU_USE_SYNC_OBJECTS 1
setx GPU_MAX_ALLOC_PERCENT 100
setx GPU_SINGLE_ALLOC_PERCENT 100
Turns out I do get a bit better results with Phoeixminer. Nothing amazing but it is better. And the reporting in the CMD prompt is better. I can see information on my card and hashrate. Cool!
I also finally take the time to find my electricity bill to see what I’m paying. My cost per kWh is 0.09, lucky me! Plug that into mining calculators online, I’m ok. At least I’m not losing money.

How about a 3070?

Alright, this is fun and all, but what if we can could do more. My computer has some more PCIe slots. How much could I make with a Nvidia 3xxx? Turns out betterhash let’s you know. You can plug in any card there and get a hash estimate. Turns out I could make over $100 month with a 3070. At $600 the card would pay for itself in 6 months!
….There are no freaking cards for sale. Anywhere. What the heck. How late am I too this game? And the ones that are available, they want $980 for a 3070? I look deep. I make the half hour trip to Micro Center and get told to try coming in at 8am every day and I might get lucky. Not looking good.
Finally I recall I used to order stuff from CDW at my old IT job. I hit pay dirt! They have a 3070! It’s expensive but it’s not $900. Card ordered! (Since then, they’ve been out of stock. I got lucky)

Upgrade issue #1

I need to make room for the 3070. My 2070 Super is a 3 fan and it’s long. There’s not room in the 2nd PCIe slot in my case for the long card. I end up moving everything around and break off some plastic from the hardrive cage, I got it in!
I have a 3rd PCIE, can I put a card there? Not unless it’s super thin, the power supply is right under it. Looks like I’m limited to 2 cards for now.

Upgrade issues #2

My new 3070 is extra wide (PHY uprising edition if you care). The fans literally sit on the 2070. And with both cards in there my computer is hot! My computer feels like a heater right now. Let’s google on how to deal with heat. I learn about and download MSI Afterburner. Pretty cool tool! Not only can you see the temperature you can adjust a lot of settings on your GPU. I spin up my miner and start MSI afterburner. Ok, the 2070 is doing fine, let’s see how the 3070 is doing.. 90 degrees, ok, ok. Wait it’s Celsius, holy crap! What the heck! That’s 194 degrees F! It’s gotta be that wide ass 3070 making the fans sit on the 2nd card. The cooling air it’s sucking up is coming straight from the 2070…
I switch the cards (why did I break my hardrive cage?). Now the 2070 is back in the first slot which is not ideal, I liked the idea of using the 3070 for video games.. Spin up my miner, we are doing better. Both cards are in the mid 70s Celsius. That’s fine right? Do some googling… Crap, no it’s still too hot…
Time to upgrade the fans in the computer. Another half hour trip to Micro Center, I get a 140 and 120 size fan. I also get a fan controller because I noted that I only had 1 free fan plug in on my motherboard. The fan controller ends up fitting perfectly in a hardrive slot, like it was made for it. Fortunately I overbought my PSU and I have plenty of power slots for adding one offs like a fan controller.
Alright, I’ve filled every Fan spot on my case, there are 5 fans going…. And there blowing wrong…. After redoing everything because I messed up the fan directions…. (Remember kids, air should flow front to back and heat rises) Let’s try again!
Spin up the miners…. I’m under 70 degrees Celsius! Progress, progress. But high 60’s is still in the danger zone. Here is where I find some nice post in EtherMining on MSI afterburner settings. Raising my fan speed to almost 80, cutting my power to somewhere in the 70s, raising the memory clock to +500. Now I’m at 63 c! And my hash rate went up as a bonus!

Here I am and where I’m going

If you’ve made it this far, it’s been a learning journey for me. There are some things I can still do better at but I think I have the basics of Ethermining down. I’m happy with where I’ve gotten. I’ve also learned a ton about crypto currency.
Going forward, I might change from Sparkpool but I’m still on the fence. From EtherMining I know everyone and their mother is going to Flexpool. But I’m a small player (~100 MH/s) and waiting for 0.2 ETH for payout would take a long time which is risk. And I’m not sure what the PPLNs type plan would net me.
I’m also considering using the address for my ledger for my proceeds. It’s going to go there anyway and I would like to avoid fees from moving my coin around. I know ledger cautions about large amounts of small transactions but with a pool the payout is only once a month so I don’t think it applies. If the ledger can’t handle 12 deposits a year then I need to find something else anyway.
You know, I might have gone big but with staking being the future of Ethereum, the rising difficulty level of mining, not really having a place to put a rig or honestly the funds for one, I think I’m going to stay a small player and just see if I can eventually pay back this 3070 I bought. In the end it’s been a ton of fun and added excitement to the monotony of being quarantined to a house all day. Thank you for the forum post and the new hobby!
Were you entertained? You can always send things to 0xAD0cd237BDE28AF4Dc4E0D913285e74217384e29 (worth a shot)

TL;DR at the end since I’m long winded.
So, this is a story that’s currently developing. As in, it happened at 11:20 am, an hour and 20 minutes ago as I’m writing this. Also, I grew up reading a lot of detective novels, I’m autistic as hell, and I’m a petty asshole. I work as the lead driver at a pizza place.
For starters, some backstory.
Several weeks ago, we had an older female driver of ours take a cash delivery to an apartment building. It totalled out to $17.88 and the customer paid in a $20 bill and said to keep the change. Our driver returns to the store and doesn’t immediately put the cash in her lockbox, but later remembers to, and does. However, she doesn’t lock the padlock on her lockbox completely. If you jiggle the padlock, it pops back open.
Our driver then has a diabetic attack several hours later in the store, and so she ends up getting checked out about an hour after she’s supposed to leave. When she hands in her receipts and cash, she’s $17.88 short. She’s initially confused, and then angry, because she remembers putting that money in her lockbox and now it’s gone, and her padlock is unlocked. She tells myself, the general manager, and the closing shift lead that someone has stolen from her. For now, we clock her out as not missing the $17.88 so it doesn’t detract from her tips, and send her home safely.
We have cameras all throughout our store, and one of them has the lockboxes in the distance. It isn’t a perfect view, but it’s visible. I focus on those lockboxes and start from the beginning of her shift when she took the cash delivery and fast forward until I see anyone go near or interact with the lockboxes, I investigate at normal speed, clear that incident as not the theft, and continue on. Rinse and repeat. I end up about two hours into our driver’s shift when the closing shift lead quietly informs me one of our underage male insiders paid for his dinner with a $20 bill. Ah shit. Fine.
I find the beginning of his shift and follow him via the cameras throughout the store. One thing that is immediately noticeable is that he has a lockbox. Why? No fucking clue. Insiders don’t necessarily need lockboxes. And the second thing is that his lockbox is the one directly next to our older female driver’s lockbox. Damn. I watch as he deposits his earbuds into the lockbox, eyes the other lockboxes, and walks away.
He wanders aimlessly back to the lockboxes several times, but as the lockboxes are adjacent to the office, every time he goes to the lockboxes, he peeks in the office. Our GM spends a lot of time in the office that night, and that spooks the insider away from the lockboxes until eventually our GM leaves the office. Then, the insider positions himself with his back to the cameras, blocking our view of the lockboxes. He appears to fiddle with a lockbox, and then runs to the restroom. He comes out seconds later and returns to work.
Because his lockbox is the one next to our driver’s, we can’t determine if he went into her lockbox or his own. Either way, he looks guilty as hell. Our GM decides to not pursue this, but he isn’t surprised. Apparently this insider has sneakily groped other staff members, “accidentally” tripped shift leads, etc. He appears to be, for all intents and purposes, kind of a dick.
Then the insider calls out of his next shift claiming to have COVID-19. He is on a 2-week quarantine, and then isn’t scheduled for another week, today’s shift. So, we don’t see him again until today.
I haven’t forgotten this shit. Like I said, I’m petty. So what I do is go out to my car and grab a dollar once the insider comes in and clocks in to his shift. I don’t have a padlock on my lockbox out of choice. I take the $1 bill and put it partially sticking out of the lockbox slot. Just enough to see that it’s money. I then go down the strip to the donut shop and spend about 10 minutes in there buying donuts.
I return to the store and sit in the office with today’s opening shift lead, who has no idea what I’ve done. I eat with her, and incredibly soon while we’re engaged in conversation, the insider walks past the lockboxes twice. I watch him out of the corner of my eye sneakily, but soon it isn’t even needed, because the fucking idiot starts banging through all the open lockboxes. Yanking on the locked padlocks just in case they open. Fiddling with the combination locks. Making such a goddamn racket that our shift lead wonders aloud what the hell is making so much noise.
The insider literally runs to the back of the store to hide, waits about a whole minute (1 whole minute! What patience!) and comes back to the lockboxes. Bangs around for a few seconds and back to the back of the store. I’m pretty pleased with myself. Then the fucking thieving moron comes to the office and says “I think the vending machine is broken. I just bought a coke and it dispensed a fanta instead.” Literally holding the other 50¢ in his hand. I tell him it just got loaded incorrectly and to either drink what he has or suffer. He shrugs and walks away.
Now I tell the shift lead quietly what I did. She’s amazed. We open the cameras and watch him steal. However, we see him also rifling through personal effects from other lockboxes, not just the money from mine. So now I go outside and call our GM, let him know what happened, he says to babysit the kid for a while and make sure he doesn’t steal anything else, and then when our GM gets here he’ll fire him.
I tell the next driver that comes in so she can keep an eye on him as well. She’s amazed that someone can be so stupid. I inform the other shift lead coming in soon, and he also thinks this is fucking hilarious. Our GM gave our male shift lead permission to fire the kid once the shift lead comes in for his shift.
So now we wait.
EDIT: Our male shift lead came and clocked in, conversed more over the phone with our GM to make sure of exactly what he was supposed to be doing with terminating the thief. During this, hilariously enough, the thief made the comment “I love working here!” and all of us who knew had to run to the back to not burst out laughing. Not for much longer, kid. We let him finish his small shift, 11-2 basically, during which he was shadowed by a shift lead the entire time, just to make sure he didn’t handle any customer’s money at all. At the end of his shift, our male shift lead clocked him out, gave him the tips he made for his shift, and then showed him the camera footage of him stealing the money from my lockbox. He explained calmly that the thief was fired immediately, and told him to give me my dollar back.
What made me even more upset about the situation was when the thief turned to me and opened his wallet, and clearly visible within his wallet was several $20 bills, $10 bills, and $1 bills. He didn’t even need my fucking dollar. He handed me the dollar, and was promptly kicked out of the store. Funnily enough, he forgot his jacket, and because it’s snowing here, our shift lead felt bad and ran his jacket to him.
Moral of the story is: Don’t steal from me or my drivers. I’ll catch you, bitch.
TL;DR We previously suspected an insider of stealing. I set him up to be caught stealing my money. Catch him very obviously.

Travel Tip: Don’t Take Coins From the Greenwich Steps
Location: A Long, Red Brick Stair Near Coit Tower, San Francisco
Fond of urban hikes? Coit Tower is one of the most popular day-hike destinations for travelers in San Francisco. Don’t worry; even if you fail to reach the tower before closing time, there’s a spectacular urban-ocean view from the parking lot.
Collectors will want to stop by Coit Tower’s glowing penny-press machine to get a coin stamped with the iconic tower silhouette. There’s nothing wrong with doing this. In fact, I encourage it if you are traveling with children. Visitors also leave pennies scattered on the wide stone slab window ledges on top of Coit Tower, itself. As with most coin-based rituals, it’s better to leave a penny than to take one . . . but these specific coins are not the ones that do harm.
A three-minute stroll from the tower, you may notice a secluded stair. This red brick stairway, called the Greenwich Steps, is actually a landmark “street” offering travelers a shortcut down a lush hillside garden. Even in summertime, the cool green shade on the steps may prompt you to pull up your jacket collar.
I say shortcut, but at 387 steps, the stair won’t feel that short. It descends the hill in crooked segments, and the brick gives way to concrete halfway down. At the bottom, you will be unceremoniously deposited between a residential garage and a frank Slippery When Wet sign. But from there it’s an easy twelve minutes on foot to the Embarcadero, the historic Ferry Building with its clock tower, shopping, restaurants, and a science museum that sells adults-only tickets on certain Thursday nights-- for those of you not traveling with children.
I only meant to walk the Greenwich Steps twice during my stay. Once up. Once down.
You should be fine so long as you simply keep moving. If you encounter a local tending the flowers, it’s okay to nod in passing.
Just don’t stop to pick up any coins.
I don’t care if you see coins on the steps, by the steps, in the foliage, or piled on top of an old-fashioned brick pillar at the halfway point. It might look like pennies, dimes, or a bright silver dollar. Do not pick up any of it. If your child finds a Greenwich Coin, stay calm. Consequences are rarely severe for children. The problem lies in what you’ll have to do to keep it that way.
There’s one way to deflect the consequences of taking a Greenwich Coin. Trade. Use a trinket, a piece of candy, make a promise-- whatever gets the coin out of their hands. Then discreetly toss it into the underbrush.
Your child won’t carry the onus of the Coin after trading it away. The downside is that you will. You touched it; you took possession of it for a short time. You aren’t the prey it wants, but by the laws that govern it, you’re still fair game.
If a stranger approaches you or your child directly after you’ve thrown away a Greenwich Coin, don’t get ruffled. Stick to your travel plans and do not deviate. Don’t listen, don’t give them anything, do not confront. Pretend they aren’t even there. Trust me, if there’s ever been a tourist trap, con, or scam artist that you’d want to avoid, it’s this one. They’re after more than your wallet.
Collectors, look. You’re going to be in the most trouble here. I’m sorry. I know it’ll really test your self-restraint when that Steel Wheat Cent or whatever turns up underfoot. Just keep in mind that the steeper the value of the coin, the deeper the shit you’re in if you grab it. Best thing you can do is kick it off the stairs to protect the next traveler who ventures along.
A stranger will come for you if you’ve taken a Greenwich Coin. Usually it happens on the steps, but you can’t rule out the garden, the parking lot, or the tower grounds. Careful, because locals often go jogging up the Greenwich Steps, and sometimes the stranger will pose as just another jogger. It’s unnerving how fast it closes the distance.
If being pursued, seek shelter in the popular mermaid-themed cafe near the bottom of the Steps. Yeah, I mean it. Order a drink you’ve ordered many times before-- that’s important, it helps. Trust me when I say this is better than the alternative. In the old days you’d need a church. A lot of travelers would fail to reach one in time. Now we have other options. Any place that is iconic, ritualized, and identical wherever you go can function as a sanctuary in a pinch. If you still have the Greenwich Coin on you, I’m sorry, but you have to drop it in the tip jar now.
If you don’t, you’re going to need more help than a barista can provide.
(If you are a barista working near the Greenwich Steps, don’t be alarmed. You’ve probably taken home a Greenwich Coin at least once, but it’s lost the power to hurt you. Ritual acts of selflessness are powerful like that).
Here’s the thing about sanctuary: it’s temporary. The thing hunting you will have difficulty crossing the threshold, though, so once you’re in, you’ve got a brief grace period to work with. I have to admit, I’ve been that traveler feverishly searching the internet for advice while a cold drink sweats in my hand and a monstrosity paces outside. The last time this happened, it casually slid a finger along the window to distract me. It looked human. They often do. It was even pretending to talk on the phone. Or . . . thinking back, that phone call might’ve been real. Muffled, but I could still make out the words: “Quite close. Yes, it’s that one.” Said while arrhythmically tapping the glass in front of my head.
Shit. I think I know who it called that day.
Back on track: the thing coming after your Greenwich Coin might look like anyone. Could be that man in a business suit, or that woman in sweats. Whatever you’re most attracted to. And no, it’s not necessarily carnal attraction . . . although it could easily exploit that. No. It’s whatever best draws you astray. You involved in a niche hobby? Got a favorite show, a band, or a game you can’t resist talking about? It’ll paint itself in your stripes, sing out to you in a voice familiar.
For me, it appeared as an older woman: denim jacket, bangles, sitting across the historic brick steps with one bare foot. She held her ankle as if it hurt. Her race and other details are not important. You shouldn’t expect any of that to be the same when it comes for you. I can’t say she reminded me of someone specific (I have suspicions). That tug of concern, though: I felt it, crisp as torn paper.
The wind tugged silver hair about her shoulders as she called out.
“Please, help me up?”
Of course I knelt by her and asked what happened. Look, I’d read up on travel hazards before leaving home. No book, blog, or article ever warned me about a thing that doesn’t have its own face. Most travel guides deal in bog-standard reality. Which bus to catch, local eats, how much tickets cost. I had faith in my wits and good fortune. After all, I’d just picked up a rare nickel at the bottom of the Greenwich Steps.
I’m not going to tell you the specific nickel, but it was good. The buy a house with cash kind. I’ve always wanted my own land. A place to call mine. You know what happens to your brain when you get hit with that kind of euphoria, jet-lagged in a strange city? Yeah. I was daydreaming up those steps.
I offered the stranger my hand. She pointed up through the green canopy. I thought it meant she lived in one of the square-topped residential buildings on the other side. She leaned on me as she hobbled. I kept a few fingers free to cover the sling-bag containing my passport, phone, and all my money. Yeah, I thought myself quite clever for making sure no one could pick my pocket, even as the stranger literally led me up the garden path.
“Here,” she said. The stair is steep, and most of it’s framed by safety rails. But there are gaps. She passed through one, still gripping my hand, and limped right into the humps of yellow sorrel and baby’s tears.
I tried not to let her pull me off the stair. I made all the usual protests. I don’t think there’s a path here. Ma’am? I’m not comfortable doing this. Please, stop. Let go of my hand. Hey! She didn’t even look back. Her grip tightened, and she dragged me over the edge before I could scrabble for a handhold. I lurched. You know those dreams where something has grabbed you, and your attempts to struggle make no difference? You just flail, and the teeth sink deeper. Her nails bit into my hand.
She stepped out of her remaining shoe and kicked it aside. Her limp was gone. We plunged under the myriad arms of an Angel’s Trumpet. That’s a tree you’ll see more than one of, here. The tined ivory blossoms whisked over my head and shoulders, dusting me in its sticky-sugar scent. I’ve hated that smell ever since.
I fumbled my phone out of my travel bag with my free hand. But I unlocked it sloppy-- right into camera mode. The second try got me a transit map. Third: home screen. No signal.
Don’t give up if you can’t get a signal.
Emergency services might work anyway (might). But don’t squander your chance. I kept making false starts, hunched against the stranger’s pull.
Everyone thinks they can dial for help as easy as 3-2-1. But you’d be surprised how wrong-handed you get in a crisis. You thumb open your work contacts, because that’s how you’re used to starting calls. Or you get as far as the keypad and mash the numbers in wrong. Ever had shaky hands?
Just save emergency service lines into your phone. Even the easy ones.
When I finally got a call out, it rang twice. The first trill was scratchy. The second slid off-pitch, as though falling into the distance. Then the call disconnected.
The ground dipped. It shouldn’t have; we’d been going uphill in a steady, inexorable climb. A sylvan hollow spread before us. Ancient cedars and spruce repeated into the gloom, all festooned in lichen. Far off lay the mossy corpse of a tree-- where tourists and concrete should have been. Golden strings caught sun in its branches. Spider silk.
There’s a primeval rainforest hidden between the shadows of the Greenwich Steps. Not a jungle. The cold kind, with evergreens and fog.
The stranger flung me into it. My phone bounced out of my grip. I caught my footing, wheeling to face her. But she-- she inhaled her nose. Sucked it into her skull like it was made of tissue paper. Her eyes wrinkled and her head curled up. No blood. Bones collapsed, nothing but spider-skin. Arms and legs shriveled off. For a moment the clothing held together. Then it settled into a pile of sticky leaves and silk. Not even the denim was real.
“You took my coin,” gasped the husk at my feet. “Now I shall exact the balance. My prize.”
I stomped on it. I wear combat boots, and I kick hard. That thing should have died under my heel.
Invisible fingers twined around my throat-- from behind me. “No arguments.” It’s voice still emanated from the webby mess on the ground, even as its unseen counterpart-- its other half? Its true form?-- nuzzled the back of my head with an appendage that humans lack.
Does it hurt when something eats your name? I remember my legs shook. I know I begged it to stop, more than once. After the first sip, when you finally quicken to what’s happening, the physical discomfort just seems incidental.
Let’s be clear: I don’t have amnesia. It wasn’t that surgical. That thing guzzled down every intonation, every sigh, every tag, award, shout, and signature. There was once a small corner of the world that knew me. A family. I had classmates, peers, a disappointing boss. Maybe I had a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. I think I did.
If you could somehow track them down, not a single one of them would know my name. Everywhere my name should be, there is nothing. Every instance of that identity is gone. The thing on the Greenwich Steps took it all.
“Do you think you’ve paid enough to bear my currency?” it asked.
I gibbered. “Yes. Yes, I’ve paid.”
“So sure of your worth. Should you be? Your entire life so far is pennies to me.”
Then it took my face.
Afterward, I sprawled among the ferns. The leaves dripped. I could still see. That was the first thing I became conscious of. Watching dew slide through the moss.
Then came rustling and croons overhead. It sounded like parrots.
I slowly canted my head back. Trees came into focus. There they were, crowding a branch. Red masks, leafy bodies, flicking their heads left and right to study me. A wild flock of cherry-headed conures right in San Francisco. They are actually one of the features that draw tourists to the Greenwich Steps. I didn’t know that at the time, though. I wept in bewilderment at the parrots.
Then I reached up to touch my face. It was gone. Just like reaching into a bag of static.
I sat up with a jolt. Just a meter to my right: a long, red brick stair cut through the teeming vines. No sign of other people. Nor of my captor.
I staggered down the Greenwich Steps. Maybe three hundred of them, one or two at a time, with all the grace of a dazed animal. I gripped the safety rail so hard it squeezed the blood out of my fingers.
There was a coin on the second-to-last step. I stepped on it, then went back and kicked it away. I’m not ashamed to admit that I sobbed after that. Right next to the yellow sign that says Slippery When Wet.
Yes, I still shed real tears. They appear like raindrops on my hands and shirt.
It was a long walk back to my hotel to assess the damage. I passed dozens of people on the way. No one reacted as if anything were out of place. A man even nodded to me. I hesitated, wondering if he recognized me, if he could somehow help-- but it turned out he just wanted me to hurry on through the hotel doors so that he could go next.
Up in my room, I discovered that my reflection now gives me vertigo and screaming fits-- unless I focus below the neck. Then it’s ok.
My passport and driver’s license are not ok. Maybe it’s because both my name and face are supposed to be there. I can barely pick them up. I can’t look at them. Other people can, but I don’t think they actually perceive a specific name, face, or number. What they see, I’m not sure. Any time I present my signature (a line) or one of my ID, people just accept it. Routine, casual. But only if they don’t really try to look. They get upset if they really look.
Early on, I insisted that a man check my passport.
“Do you think the picture looks like me?” is what I actually asked.
He nodded without looking at it. “Nice picture.”
“What color are my eyes?” I asked.
The man opened his mouth. Stopped. He blinked at the passport, then up at me, before he blanched and backed away. Fast. As if I’d flashed a weapon at him.
“What’s wrong?” I was angry, I admit. Not at him. He was just some unlucky hotel staffer. I feel really bad about it, now, but I stalked after him, passport open in my hand like a bible. “Just tell me what my photo looks like. Is my signature legible?”
“I don’t, I can’t--” he stammered, still backpedaling. “Just go away. Please, oh fuck. Fuck.”
“Is my name easy to pronounce, John?” His sleek black nametag said John.
John backed right into one of his coworkers, who winced. She addressed me stiffly. You know how people talk when they’re forced to handle a belligerent customer. “Is there something we can do for you . . . ”
She got no further. Her customer service smile drained away and her gaze settled somewhere in the safety of the middle distance. Not alarmed, or anything. Not like John, who was still scrambling to put distance between us. I swept past the other staffer, still after John’s unsatisfactory answers.
People were turning to stare at him by then. (Him. Not me). John ran himself into a large potted tree in the lobby. Probably left a bruise on his leg. “Don’t ask me that,” he begged. “I can’t look again. I can’t.”
“Are you ok?” called one of the hotel guests, anxious.
At that point, shame caught up with me. I folded my passport and broke eye contact. “I’m sorry.” The words came out rough, at first, but softened as my hope gave way. The pain in my chest dwindled into a brittle dry thing, like webby leaves. “Sorry for-- for asking you a confusing question. You were very helpful. John. It’s not your fault. You understand that? I’ll put in a good word for you.”
Someone ran over to John.
At first he didn’t answer any of their questions. Then he said that he lost his balance. “I don’t even know why. My heart’s racing. I’m so cold . . . ”
I walked away. No one stopped me. I did glance back, once. Two people stood over John, who sat on the floor with his head cradled over his knees. He was shaking. Crying. One of the people near him was on the phone. I caught the word ambulance.
I’ve since put colored tape on my passport and all my cards so I can identify them by just the edges. People rarely ask me for identification, though. It can happen if someone’s distracted when I approach.
Oh. You’re probably curious what became of the coin. My lucky nickel.
It’s gone. Or, pervasive.
I have no idea where I used to bank, but now, it’s whatever bank I happen to walk into. My presence unsettles the tellers. They get antsy as soon as they have to ask for my account number. I can say any string of numbers that come to mind, and they punch it in. Once I just said, “I don’t know my account number.” The teller nodded and typed in . . . that, I guess.
Their computers usually start to whirr with effort at that point. Sometimes the video advertisements in the background get screen-rips or flicker off. Another time, the casing on an overhead light cracked. The tellers ask if I want to make a withdrawal today, and when the drawer finally springs open, they can’t get rid of the coins fast enough.
Yep. Banks never leave me empty-handed. All the coins in the drawer, all for me. Doesn’t matter what amount I request, what bills I specify. I walk out with pockets full of metal.
I have asked after my account balance. But only twice. I swear, I was just curious. The first time, the teller covered his mouth, said, “Excuse me, I-- I don’t believe I can . . . Certainly, I’ll write it down for you.”
His pen-hand trembled. I wondered if my account had somehow been filled to an impressive sum, since it took him so long to write. But the paper he slid across the counter had no numbers on it at all. It was an unintelligible scribble. I said thank you and the teller swayed on his feet. A bead of spittle formed at the side of his mouth. I asked him if he was ok, to which he started hyperventilating. I felt awful for that, and started to leave, but another teller took over. Stupidly, I slid the paper back across to her. The note with the jagged scribbles. I asked her if what was written on the paper matched the amount of money in my account.
She stared at the note, frowning. Then at the computer. “Yngh . . .” When she spoke again, her voice came out hoarse, as if invisible fingers had crowded around her windpipe. She looked absolutely terrified. No eye-contact, of course. “Thank you . . . so much . . . for banking with us,” she told the air right next to me. The tip of her nose turned translucent grey. Bloodless. I did not like that at all. I bolted.
Anyway, I prefer to use ATMs. It’s much easier to watch a machine clatter, churn, groan, or smoke (the smoke only happened once). I can insert my card, but if I’m not feeling up to handling my wallet, then I can usually get away with a tap-tap-tap on the machine chassis.
ATMs always spit out coins for me. Most of them aren’t equipped to handle coinage, of course. So there’s a lot of digging, wrenching, and groping involved on my part. I’ve had enough practice now that I can tickle out a few bills as well. I don’t think I’m technically supposed to do that, but when I poke around and a chewed-up benjamin crams itself between my fingers, I get the sense the ATM is equally pissed off about the rules. I understand, given what it must endure to deliver what I’m owed. I try not to bother the same machine more than once.
Yeah, I regret the one that started smoking. There was a line of customers behind me, too. I accidentally hit the green button when it prompted me for a receipt.
The screen flashed.
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Carbon paper erupted from the horizontal slot by the card reader. It was covered in more of the same, but with the text blown out in soot. The machine began to squeal as more and more receipt paper ribboned out of it. Smoke puffed from the inbuilt security camera pointed at my face, and the lens shattered. Then alarms went off inside the bank, mechanical wails overlapping.
Anyway, the fire department put the automated teller out of its misery before too much of the building was damaged. I watched it go down from a safer distance: a sticky red bench at the muni stop. When a bus pulled up and hissed open, my hands were still shaking. I reached into my pockets and annoyed the driver by dropping coin after coin while I tried to count out the cost of my ticket. Envious of my endless money?
If you haven’t figured it out already, the boon of the coin doesn’t make you rich. I survived the early days thanks to what was already in my travel-bag.
Of course, I then multiplied my very good fortune by going back to the Greenwich Steps.
It was hunting. Yes, for whatever reason, it stood out to me at once. I caught it pretending to photograph bees with a blocky vintage camera. Just a man in a fleece sweater, digesting my name in his belly. A gaggle of European tourists crowded down the steps between us, drawing that hungry gaze around to follow, until he looked past them and noticed me.
He sauntered down the steps, pausing just before the landing where I had (effectively) cornered myself.
At this point, my brain cells jump-started. This honey-eyed, fatherly figure made the perfect counterpart to the woman in denim. He wasn’t ambushing any European tourists in that face. (What they saw when they passed him, I don’t know). This face, this specific face, was just for me.
“Your expression right now,” he chuckled. He raised the camera and snapped my portrait.
Click. Flash. The camera whirred, and a glossy square of film slid out of the bottom. He removed the film and shook it gently in the dappled light. He looked me steadily in the eye as he did it, too. “The answer is no.”
“What?” my voice broke on the way out.
“No, you can’t have back what you traded away, you greedy thing. That is what you’re here to demand, isn’t it? Unless you come to me with a separate deal.” He smiled. Took the final, languid step down to my platform. He wore both shoes today.
“Though,” he continued, “I question whether you fully apprehend the deal you’ve already struck. You do understand that what I took, I ate? There’s no stuffing life back in the bird after you’ve chopped its head off and fried its legs for dinner.”
“Who are you?” I asked.
He loomed before me, smelling of Angel’s Trumpets. The white square in his hand had begun to transform into a photograph, thin shapes spreading over the surface and tarnishing with color. “Oh, if you beheld my face you’d fall in seven pieces, little pie. Pronouncing my name would burn all other words out of your skull. My sword pierces the Invisible Hand and tilts the scales. E pluribus unum is what I am. I am an American miracle.”
Close enough. I blew his knee out with my heel. Bone snapped like stick. Pigeons startled off the nearest rooftop. From him, just a wet gasp as he collapsed, eyes rolling up. Then I kicked him down the stairs.
His body tumbled around and down. Skull crunched on brick: spatter-sap. A leg bent the wrong way around a metal post. The sweater unspooled. Cobweb, hairy twigs (legs?), and spore clung to the stair in his wake. Ex uno, detritus, I thought to myself. Now you are mulch and smear of insect.
The vintage camera lay busted at my feet. Must have been the real thing. Looted off another victim, no doubt. Which meant that he’d taken a real picture of me.
Even in my fury, I couldn’t entirely wall off the questions pooling in a corner of my heart. The thing had to be stronger than this, surely. I still had five crescent-shaped marks in my hand, from when I had dangled in the grasp of the denim woman.
I followed it down. I was unable to look directly at it-- at the spindly, many-jointed thing hatching like a mayfly out of the sweater-man’s skin. Have to wonder if it meant what it said, earlier: about splitting into pieces if you ever saw it for real. By the time I reached the vacant husk, it no longer resembled a human at all. It was a cocoon of rushes and grass, shredded down the back as easy as newspaper in the rain. (If you’re curious, the photograph of me was conspicuously absent. Guess it got nabbed).
“So, how does this usually go?” I asked it. “Do your treats just hobble off and die nameless? No customer complaints at the corporate office?”
“Sometimes they come back, as you did.” The words drifted from the discarded body, rather than the thing itself (wherever it was). Two dandelion clocks stood where sweater-man used to have eyes. His broken-bark jaw hung open in a permanent grimace against the brick. “My worshippers.”
“They worship you?”
“Call me Prosperity. Call me Profit. I’m your only hope of either, now. Don’t worry, I drive a reasonable deal for the desperate.”
“I’m not-- I don’t want anything from you.”
“For now, yes. You wrung more out of me than most. That face-- mm, well worth silver. It may be some time before you come back to feed me.”
I stepped on what used to be sweater-man’s neck. It hissed-- but not in pain, as I first thought.
It was laughing.
“You should know that no matter how far you wander, I’ll always recognize you. By taste, if nothing else.”
Something that was not fingers flicked the nape of my neck.
Yeah, here’s a travel tip for you: when a freshly-molted greedfly kisses the back of your neck, run.
I sure as fuck ran.
For three nights after that, I dreamt I was lost in a crowd. No one knew me. No one could help. No, I wasn’t just lost. I had to find someone, to warn them-- but flies kept trying to crawl into my mouth.
Travelers, turn your attention to the Embarcadero. Late afternoon, cusp of evening. A throng of brightly-dressed tourists. Yes, just like my dreams. My pockets swelled with coin. Money is so damned heavy. You forget about that when it’s just a number chained to your name. You forget how important a name is.
I let the crowd eddy me into the Ferry Building. The inside: a golden medley of ways to spend too much money. I was exhausted. My nose-- my . . . sense of smell drew me into an artisanal bakery, and then to the famed local coffee with the alliterative name.
This stuff is not brewed under the sign of the mermaid. I ordered a small.
Eating and drinking works just fine if I don’t overthink it. Even so, I spill things down my shirt as often as I get a bite in. I lost half a croissant right outside of a charming bookstore.
But the espresso shot through me like a bullet train to full daylight. Despite the darkening sky, I woke all the way up. Shook off my woes, all that.
Espresso nuts, I think you’d like this stuff.
Cup in hand, I wandered the broad arcade with, shall we say, new eyes. I peered at tote bags stamped by Golden Gates, wire-stand postcards, kitchen keepsakes, exfoliants with rare ingredients, all the usual. Then I glimpsed a yellow shirt and a beat-up traveler’s backpack bobbing ahead of me toward the dock.
That one.
Espresso and cream stung my hand as I hastened after the shirt of yellow. Why? Call it a compulsion, a deep lizard-brain directive. Yeah. I just didn’t want this one to end in flies. I caught up just outside the ferry terminal. We weren’t alone: a line was already forming for the next crossing. The man in the yellow shirt stood by the ticket machines. He swigged from a water bottle and wiped his mouth.
Something bad was about to happen. I knew it like a wild animal senses earthquake, impending.
I followed his gaze to a wooden sign, hand-painted and hung right next to the ticket machines. It offered Private Boat Tour, Sunset! Just minutes from now. The curves of each s were bigger on top than on bottom. An arrow pointed away into the gathering dusk. Yellow Shirt teetered for a moment, then spun to follow it.
When I glanced back at the wooden sign, it was gone. Nothing left but a faint imprint of grease on the wall.
The certainty hit me as hard as the coffee, but equal and opposite. I didn’t know what laid the trap, or what he’d suffer after he was lured in. Just that my fellow traveler was about to fall down a hole there was no climbing out of. Strings of his life yanked out, snapped. Maybe worse.
He was alone, like I had been.
I ran, pockets jingling and slapping (damn it) to catch up. “Hey. Sir, sir?”
He strode ten more steps before he could no longer pretend I was talking to anyone else. The look he cast over his shoulder was annoyed. But at least he stopped. “I don’t have money for you. Well, maybe a little.”
He jammed a hand into crusty jeans and fished out a blackened nickel. He plopped it right into the dregs of my coffee. God, fucking da-- whatever.
“Thanks, man.” I made an effort to sound thankful.
Then I blurted, “That tour’s a rip-off. Go back and catch the ferry. It’s the only safe water-crossing tonight.”
“Um. What?” he squinted at me.
I backed away, averting my eyes. With any luck, he would see something normal-adjacent where my face was supposed to be. “Don’t miss the ferry,” I warned him. “Don’t stray. Go straight back where you belong. And then call someone and tell them where you are.”
After a silence that lasted too long, the man adjusted his backpack. He didn’t look happy. To be specific, he looked as if he’d just glimpsed a nightmare enfleshed. One of his knees started trembling. “Right on.” His voice came out an octave shriller.
He seemed weirdly reluctant to turn his back on me, but after stumbling back a few steps he wheeled around.
I watched him go all the way back to join the ferry queue. He walked much faster than before. Ran, actually. (The water bottle fell out of his backpack as he sprinted away, keening between each gasp of air).
I meandered the pier for a while, after. At one point, a seal broke the surface of the sea. Its dark head bobbed on the waves. Watching me? Harbor seals nose around here from time to time. Especially outside waterfront seafood restaurants.
But this . . . this was not that. The back of my neck prickled.
Its head was too narrow, its jaws the wrong shape. It had no eyes, but it kept pace with me as I walked. I got it, then. Yellow Shirt. I had cut loose its prey. I stopped, my heart struggling like a moth under a claw. It slipped back under. The water chopped violently in its wake. I shuddered.
Yeah, I don’t plan on napping on the beach anytime soon. No boat rides, either. But when you do, that blind gaze promised.
Oh, right.
You should probably hear this now: every famous landmark has a snare set just for you.
It makes a kind of sense, doesn’t it? Everyone wants to trap tourists. But there are traps not laid by human hands, and the cost of falling into them can’t be paid out of your wallet. What I lost, I can’t replace. What I gained in return-- I’m still figuring out.
The least I can do is warn people. I have to, actually.
We’ll get to that. For now, I’m avoiding the sea.
--the Blacknickel Guide
Part two: forthcoming

Hi everyone,
This is my first post so bare with me. It may be long so don’t feel compelled to read it.
I am 26 years old and in the midst of the Pandemic, I have been working from home since March. Before September, I would never have thought of myself having a gambling addiction. I remember being on a cruise when I turned 21 and put $20 in a slot machine and lost it and was so angry and disappointed in myself.
Then in September I kept seeing this ad on Instagram for an online casino. One day I succumbed and decided to sign-up because they had a $30 signup offer. I thought, ‘Hey what’s the harm?’ I wish I could go back and slap myself and say don’t do it.
I play through the free $30 and won $500. My whole body felt electrified. That went away when I realized there were wagering requirements (I have never been in/involved with casinos so I had no idea). By the time I met the wagering requirement, I had $75 of withdrawalable money. Still excited I made $75 for free I went to withdrawal, but found out the minimum withdrawal amount is $100. So I kept playing and eventually lost it. I wish I learned my lesson that this will be the reality most of the time.
For a bit of background, before this I was in a decent financial state. Pretty good job for someone my age, lived alone in a nice apartment, had some credit card debt, but overall manageable. I have some mental health problems (Bipolar and anxiety disorders) but received treatment and relatively stable compared to my early 20s.
As the days went on I couldn’t stop thinking about seeing that ‘big win’ flashing on my screen and kept thinking to myself, ‘that $500 could have been mine if I didn’t have that $30 bonus’. So, I decided to deposit $20 and bet low on the same game and won nothing. I felt sick like I did on the cruise.
This particular online casino gives you $1 every day, so for the next week I just played but $1 and won some, but not enough to withdrawal. About a week later, I got an email from the casino saying if I deposit $50, I’ll get an extra $50 with no wagering requirement. The thought of depositing $50 was crazy to me so I just deleted the email and continued with my free $1 a day. After about a week of that, I get another email, deposit $50 play with $200. I scoured the fine print and I only had to play through the extra $150 once, then any winnings I can withdrawal. I still hesitated until Friday night where I had a couple drinks and decided to go for it. Back then, I would say this was one of the most fun nights of my life. I kept landing the ‘fireshot’ feature and winning mini and minor jackpots. At the end of the night I won $1200 USD (I’m from Canada so it would be about $1500 CAD).
My body was so full of excitement I could barely hit the withdrawal button. When I did, I found out they had to verify my account and I had to send in the required documents. After I researched if this was standard for online casinos and researching this casino, I sent in my documents. I went to bed happy, and already had plans on what I was going to buy/pay off with this win. Unfortunately I was too excited to sleep. So I log back in and miraculously (at least to me back then), my $1200 was still there, and playable. So I thought why not play a few more rounds with a higher bet to get an even bigger win? Big mistake. By 3:00am, I was down to $100. I forced myself to stop so I could still withdrawal something. After about a week or two, I resisted playing/betting more and when I logged into my online banking and saw the $120 deposited, I think that’s when my addiction started.
I was no longer satisfied with my free $1 everyday. I started just depositing $20 here and there. On my lunch break or in the evening when I was bored. Then $20 turned into $50 and $50 to $100. After maxing my credit card with no significant wins, I decided enough was enough. And stopped for the rest of September.
Most likely because I had researched so much about online casinos, I had more ads than ever tempting me. One night again after a few drinks, I joined a different online casino. This one was completely different, with better games, a level up feature where you get to spin a wheel after each level and win free spins, cash back or free money, I was hooked again. I put in $50 and lost and was completely broke. So I patiently counted down the days until I got paid. I also sold about $500 worth of video games/consoles I didn’t want to sell, but did to have more money to gamble with.
On payday, I set an alarm for 4:00am when my pay is deposited. This was the first real sign to myself I may be becoming obsessed, but brushed it off. I deposited $100 and won $200. Same story, I had to verify my account but this was done within hours, and I got my money in two days VS a week and a half with my first casino. Stupidly, I put the $200 back in and lost it. I was back to being broke after only two days of getting paid. By the weekend, my credit card payment posted and in my eyes, I had money again.
That night I won most of what I lost back and learned my lesson and withdrew it. When I saw that sum deposited into my bank account, I was ecstatic. I first paid off my credit card I was using to make the deposits, and went out and bought AirPods Pro. I felt rich (even though the win was less than $1000). That evening I wanted to play again, but I had no money. This was the night I learned I could cancel a bill payment within 24 hours. Which I did. And played through all my winnings. Words can’t describe how disappointed I was in myself. I was broke. Credit card maxed. And the only thing I had to show for it were the AirPods. The next day I tried returning them but they wouldn’t accept the return because of their return policy on headphones. I vowed to myself to never gamble again, wrote a note in my phone describing what I was feeling so I could read it if I was ever tempted. That week I fell into a depressive episode. I couldn’t afford groceries, lied to friends and family for not spending time with them because I feared they would want to order food, I didn’t want to admit what happened, so I isolated myself.
That week was what I thought was the hardest. I just stayed in bed signing up to every casino out there for free spins no deposit sign ups to try to fill the void but you never actually win anything on no deposit spins. Finally, my good friend asked what is going on and I immediately bursted into tears and told her I was broke, and my credit card maxed. We work at the same job, and long story short, are both getting $5000 in retro pay because of a expired union contract. She told me she would lend me $5000 now, and I would give her my retro money when we get it in February. This was one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me. Reluctantly, I decided to accept this kindness and we worked out a budget on how I would not let this happen again. Here’s the thing, and I will never forgive myself for, I didn’t tell her all this happened because of gambling. I was too ashamed and embarrassed.
Life was somewhat normal again for a couple weeks until one night I decide to just put in $100 and see if I can win some of what I now owed my friend back. After $500 lost, those same feelings came back, but worse since I felt I betrayed my friend’s kindness, and that this isn’t the first time this happened.
Fast forward to November - I won again (not nearly enough to recover my losses), paid my credit card and cancelled the payment, lost it all again. Then towards the end of November, my $1000 for rent sitting in my savings account kept calling my name. I have never ever been in a position where I would risk not affording rent, but my addiction was stronger and I lost $500 of it. I had about a week until my rent was due, I had nowhere to turn, I couldn’t ask my friend for a loan because in her mind, and from the few times she asked, I was sticking to my budget. My new way of handling stress was gambling, so I put another $100 in and won $600. I was saved and again vowed myself to never put myself into this position again and ‘quit’.
Now it is December, I guess this is my rock bottom. Not nearly as bad as some people’s, but here it is. I took out another credit card for ‘emergencies’ since my main one is maxed. I was good, and didn’t use it except to buy a few groceries which I swore I would pay off on payday. My mental health declined, and I deposited $100 and lost it. Then another $100. Lost it. Made another ‘promise’ to myself to stop and I did until last night. I now owe $1,000 on the new credit card, and my main one is now in a negative balance because of a subscription.
I am a liar, I take advantage of people’s kindness that I didn’t deserve in the first place, and now in more credit card debt than I know how to deal with. All I can wish for is I’ve learned my lesson. That the money I lost I will never get back, and to find some way to fill the void gambling has left in my life. After only the first day, I don’t know what will give me that feeling of excitement, the feeling of being alive. I had all my casino accounts deleted this morning, but I know there are more out there, I just really hope I can stop myself from ever going back on this path.
If you made it this far thank you for reading. If you have any suggestions on what I can do to not relapse, and any hobbies or activities that can fill the void please let me know.

This happened in 2004. All names have been changed, and conversations represented to the best of my memory.
For our upcoming early autumn wedding, my fiancée and I decided to rent a shuttle bus from our designated hotel to the reception venue (Catholic wedding, different from the actual ceremony location). We were going to have approximately 130 guests, and we wanted them to have a good time (i.e. drink their fill) at our reception without having to risk getting a DUI or accident on the way back their rooms to sleep. So the plan was, rent a shuttle bus to take loads of guests from the hotel to the venue right after the ceremony (while the wedding party had pictures taken), flipping back and forth as needed until everyone was at the venue, and then another shuttle bus to repeat the process for later at night. Four months before the big day, I found a what was reputed to be a good transportation service near the church. I called them, was connected to their ownemanager, Guido, and told him of my plan. No problem, Guido says. Guido brags to me that he has a large fleet (that was his word, “fleet”) of busses, all different sizes. He’ll be happy to provide a 25-person shuttle for the two required periods of time, so-and-so $$ per hour and minimum five hours per session. OK, done. I checked back with them one month before the ceremony, to confirm all was good. Spoke to a nice receptionist-type. They took a deposit on my credit card (important later). All good. I checked back again about ten days prior to the ceremony. Yes, all good. Thanks for your business and see you there! Day of the wedding we had the expected beautiful ceremony in my fiancée’s church, and jump in a white 1920’s limo (nice touch, that) to go to the reception venue. Pictures, pictures, pictures. Then, finally, we enter into the cocktail hour (a pre-reception held in the venue’s garden). I had some input in the planning of this, and I must say: I was anticipating it. And, from what little I saw and sampled of it, I bitterly regret that I didn’t get more of a chance to enjoy it. It was awesome. It was Homeric. It was . . . for me . . . not to be. Because not ten minutes after arriving at the cocktail hour area, I get pulled aside by the event manager, Annie (a consummate professional). Annie tells me that most of the out-of-town guests (read: my side of the family) are still at the hotel, waiting for the promised transportation van. Is it coming? They’ve asked the hotel receptionist/concierge several times. He doesn’t seem to know why it isn’t there yet? It’s been nearly two hours. Frantically Annie and I call the transportation provider. We get their weekend (it’s a Sunday) operator, Dino. Dino seems surprised to hear from me, and a little confused. A 25-passenger bus? Today? Where is this supposed to be going? Through gritted teeth I tell him of our contract. He shifts gears, telling me that: oh, right -- the bus has broken down, and he’s trying to get it fixed. I asked him what happened to the fleet Guido described. He can’t give me an answer. Instead, he asks me the single stupidest question I have ever been asked, ever, in my life, and at such a critical moment to boot: Dino: “Ummmm . . . what do you want me to do?” Me: (Teeth are still gritted) “I want you to get another of your fleet of busses and get it down to the hotel to pick up my guests and begin making flips to the venue, pronto.” Dino: “Well, we’re having trouble with that. You see . . . “ Me: “I don’t want to hear it. I am a groom at a wedding, trying to make sure my guests have a good time, and that my new wife has her day. It’s not my job today to worry about transportation I set up four months ago. You’re the guy from the transportation company: I want YOU to fix it.” Dino: “I’ll see what I can do.” Hangs up. As my future brother-in-law, my best man, and myself begin discussing the situation, Dino calls the venue back. Dino: “It’s going to take a few hours to get your bus fixed.” Me: (seeing red) “Oh, it’s my bus now? When did you learn that my bus was broken? I mean, you seemed surprised that you needed to provide a bus today when we first spoke. Has all this taken you by surprise?” Dino: “Look, if you want, I’ll call some other companies and see if they can loan us a vehicle; we do that sometimes.” Me: “Do whatever you have to do, just fix this situation ASAP and get my guests to the venue!” Dino: “Well, I’ll do my best but I can’t promise anything . . . “ We hang up, and I’m about to bang my head on the wall. My brother-in-law is grabbing the phone to call some other transportation companies. Just then, Annie gets a call from the hotel, and learns that a hero has jumped into the situation: the hotel concierge, sensing blood in the water, has called every cab company in the area and told them to send everything they’ve got with wheels and an engine, immediately. Taxis swoop down on the hotel and spirit our guests the two miles or so to the venue. They arrive in time to enjoy the last bits of cocktail hour, and none of them was late for the beginning of dinner. Crisis (mainly) averted. Of course, I’m already composing the type of communication I‘m going to have with Guido and his Keystone Kops company after the wife and I return from my honeymoon. I’m one of the last to leave the venue. On my way out I notice a small excursion bus sitting in the parking lot on plain sight of the entrance. Ah, this must be the promised night bus. Apparently Dino or Guido or somebody got their collective crap together and got us the promised bus. I walk over and talk to the driver. He’s a nice guy who speaks heavily accented English (he’s Russian, I think), and I ask him if he’s doing OK. He admits that he is. I don’t even ask when he arrived, nor how many people he's driven, but I tell him that no one’s left, and that he can leave. I assume he did, I didn’t wait to see. I had better things to do, and got in the limo for the trip back to the honeymoon suite.
The outrage culminated after I got home from the honeymoon, when I received a bill from Guido’s Seat-of-Our-Pants Transportation Services. It was for the originally contracted ten hours of 25-passenger bus. I laughed, called the company and spoke to the nice receptionist again. I related the horror story of the wedding day bus debacle and informed her that I would only be paying for the five hours at night, nothing more, as no transportation services had been rendered for the scheduled afternoon session. She replied that a bus had indeed been dispatched in the afternoon. I asked her when had it arrived. She said she didn’t have that information, but stated that, as the bus had been sent, I owed them five hours for the afternoon. I laughed, again, long and hard, and told her that under no circumstances would she be getting a penny from me for the afternoon time slot. Her bus never arrived, or arrived so late as to be utterly unable to actually transport any passengers. She broke in to say that it didn’t matter: a bus had been sent as per the contract, and it was a minimum of five hours per session. If I didn’t want to pay by check, Seat-of-Our-Pants Transportation would simply charge the credit card that I had already given them. I told her to please stand by, and hung up with her. I then immediately called my credit card company. God bless my credit card company (whose card, I've been assured on various occasions, you should really never leave home without), it really goes the extra mile for its members. Within scant minutes I was speaking to a customer service rep, and related the story. I told him that I would be happy to pay the five hours for services actually received, but that I would bitterly, protractedly, and more important, legally resist to the last breath in my body any attempt to collect on the afternoon session. He agreed with me, and requested that I send him a letter to that effect that he could put in the case file. He also informed me that the ten-hour charge had already been submitted to their billing. He told me that it had been submitted in five-hour increments over two separate charges (so as to put two different service and fuel charges, as well as two different sets of sales tax), so that he was able to honor the second charge but also place a dispute hold on the first. He requested that I not forget to send the letter. I thanked him very much, and wrote and emailed it immediately. Satisfied with that conclusion, I proceeded on with my life. About two weeks later I got a call from yet another very nice-sounding receptionist from Seat-of-Our-Pants Transportation. She was calling on behalf of Guido, and wanted to know how I intended to pay for the second five-hour session; for some reason, my credit card company had turned down repeated requests for payment. I told her that no further payment would be forthcoming. She assured me that I did in fact owe them for both transportation sessions. I told her, in my best serious military officer voice, that she was welcomed to the five hours of night session that had already been paid. But that, given the circumstances, I would be roasted in hell before I paid another cent. She hinted that legal action could result from refusal to pay as provided by the contract. Me: “Miss, Guido is welcome to contact my brother-in-law’s law firm; here’s the number, he’ll be representing me in any legal action with your company. Please advise Guido also that the very reputable and professional Annie from Amazing Wedding Venue was listening on an extension; she heard and can give witness to every word that Dino the Incompetent Dispatcher said to me that day, from not knowing about the job to being unable to provide a working bus in a timely manner. Also let him know that I have receipts from all seventeen cabs trips that my relatives took to get to the venue, since your bus wasn’t there - as provided by the contract. Tell Guido that he should be thankful that I’m not pursuing my own lawsuit for the sum of those receipts, plus tips. But I’ll change my mind and instruct my attorney to counterclaim for precisely that, and throw in a second lawsuit for harassment as well, if Guido doesn’t shut up and accept what he’s already got. Ball’s in his court.” There was a pause, and then, Receptionist: “I see. Very well. I’ll tell Guido that. Thank you very much, sir.” And she hung up. I never heard from Guido or Seat-of-Our-Pants Transportation again.
But I do give kudos to my credit card company for standing up for their members. I will, indeed, as they say, "never leave home without it."

As standard – apologies for the length! I’ve found it quite a cathartic experience, and I seem to have managed to merge elements of the reddit, US and UK R29 templates so please feel free to skip over any boring sections!
Background:
I’m British, working for a British Company in the US on a three-year posting (one year in). My salary is actually £33,000 but due to the increased cost of living here, I get an additional £10,000 allowance for living costs, and my rent/utilities are paid directly by my company. This puts my equivalent salary at $93,000.
I’m aware this is an incredibly fortunate position to be in, especially with COVID, however when I return to the UK, I will be paid my UK salary only, so this is a short-term benefit.
The company can split my pay between my UK and US accounts, and currently 95%ish of it is going to my UK account. This % split was only set up after lockdown as we are currently spending much less on travel/socialising here so are taking the opportunity to focus on building our UK savings. My husband, J, was fortunate enough to get local employment when he arrived in country. He earns an additional $46,000 net which we live on.
For ease/consistency, I have converted all costs at 1.3 as this is roughly the average conversion since I’ve lived here – I will write UK next to any cost/savings that are based in the UK.
Section One: Assets and Debt
J and I (now) combine all our finances, so except for my pension pot, and a small F* Off Fund (FoF - we have one each), everything else is split 50/50. This will likely change when we go back to the UK as we’ll have better access to our own bank accounts.
My personal Net Worth is $72,400
Retirement Balance
UK $104,000
I’ve contributed to work pension schemes since I started working full time age 18. This has been set at around 5% since I joined my current employer 7 years ago, and they contribute around 27%. I’m actually guaranteed £4,000 per year once I retire for as long as I live so have multiplied this by 20 on the assumption the retirement age actually stays at 68 and I make it to my late 80’s. This amount will increase over the years with inflation and as I contribute further to it. I can choose to retire earlier, plus take up to a 25% tax free lump sum on retirement, but that will affect the annual pay-out amount.
Equity
UK $52,000 equity, $157,300 left on the mortgage
J and I bought ($197,600) with just over a 10% ($20,000) deposit 3 years ago aged 24 and contributed half each. I managed to save this as I was living at home until we bought, and J got a help to buy loan through his previous workplace. He’s since cleared this.
Savings account balance
$29,700 made up of:
US $6,700 for fun money here (currently planned for another car – we’ll sell our existing one)
UK $6,500 in premium bonds as my FoF, $13,800 in our joint savings account to upsize when we get back to the UK, $2,600 in one of my side saving accounts as a potential future maternity pot. This is joint but kept in a separate account from the house savings.
Around $22,000 of this has been saved since the beginning of lockdown
Checking account balance
US $120 (+ $1,190 in checking, -$1,070 on AMEX). All our savings accounts are easy access, so we try to keep the balance as low as possible and tend to spend the full amount each month. [We end the week with this back up to $1,559]
UK $660
Credit card debt (and how you accumulated it)
0 – we use our AMEX for our everyday spending, so I’ve included it in our checking account as we usually pay it off each week and use it in place of our checking account. J had CC/loan debt in the UK from the house deposit and wedding which he cleared down before we moved out here.
Student loan debt (for what degree)
0 - neither of us went to University
Anything else that's applicable to you
We paid outright for a second-hand car that is worth around $6,000
Section Two: Income & Further Background
Income Progression:
I started at my current company 7 years ago working as a personal assistant and started on $24,000. I stayed in this role for 2.5 years before promoting into a finance role and onto $31,000. After a year I was temporarily promoted (with pay rise) within my team to a higher finance role and after a further 6 months was permanently promoted into the role and onto $35,750. There’s usually an annual pay rise of around 2%, which I’ve received between each promotion, but as this last promotion pay rise wasn’t as high as usual, my last few annual pay rises have been higher to bring me to my now salary of $43,290. I’ve spent the last three years at the same level, but have changed teams to gain more experience which will be needed for the next promotion which I’ll hopefully be able to get when I return to the UK – this will take me over the $50,000 mark.
Main Job Monthly Take Home:
UK – I get paid once a month, receiving $3,783 after tax, national insurance and pension contributions. This also includes the extra living allowance. $3,510 is paid into my UK account, $273 is paid into the US
US – J gets paid fortnightly, and earns a net salary of $3,546 per month (assuming 2 pay periods per month)
Any Other Monthly Income Here
UK - We receive around $598 per month from tenants in our house in the UK. The letting agents take all management and admin fees directly from the rent before we get paid. This amount can be less if any work needs doing on the property, but again the letting agent will pay directly and just transfer us a reduced amount. We also have to pay tax on any rent received and still need to pay last year’s bill, but we haven’t calculated it yet.
Was there an expectation for you to attend higher education? Did you participate in any form of higher education? If yes, how did you pay for it?:
Not from family. My parents don’t have degrees, and whilst they supported my siblings going, it was our own personal choice. If we didn’t go, we were expected to work full time.
My school did expect me to go. I was in the last school year before UK University tuition went up, so the only advise they could give was to go now as you won’t be able to afford it in the future. I had a place to study events management but turned it down a week before the deadline. Bar sometimes feeling like I missed out on the University life experience (aka. freshers week), I have zero regrets not going.
Growing up, what kind of conversations did you have about money? Did your parent/guardian(s) educate you about finances?
My siblings and I were always encouraged to save including contributing to pensions when we started working, and prioritise this and bills over spending our money, but conversations didn’t go much further than that.
What was your first job and why did you get it?:
Weekly paper round from age 12 to 16 which gave me $10 a week to pay for my phone credit and to build savings. I started working part-time in a supermarket from age 16 earning around $250 a month, but this was mainly spent shopping and in the pub!
Did you worry about money growing up?:
No – my parents operated on a “what we do for one, we do for all”, so with a house of five kids, we certainly weren’t living the life of luxury, but we never went without, and it encouraged me to earn some of my own money from an early age.
Do you worry about money now?:
No, J and I are in a really good position and try to make sensible decisions so that we can still cope if our circumstances change.
At what age did you become financially responsible for yourself and do you have a financial safety net?:
Fully when I bought the house and moved out age 24, although I obviously gained the support from J. I’ve always had to use my own money for wants and non-essentials (phone bill, own laptop, “fun” clothes). I was given a few years grace on rent as my parents helped my siblings at Uni, but this stopped when I turned 21. I’ve always bought my own cars/insurance and would contribute to the household, including buying some food and replacing furniture in my room.
Our parents continue to support us anyway they can, which included letting J and I move back in rent free last year whilst we were replacing our kitchen.
Do you or have you ever received passive or inherited income?:
My dad saved around $1,200 from when I was a child which I received aged 18 – this went into savings and then towards my first car and laser eye surgery.
My brothers and I also received $1,950 each from a great aunt when she died, which was a complete surprise (the will was contested so this was several years later). Our much younger half-brother didn’t receive anything, so we split this equally with him. The money left went towards mine and J’s wedding and we also received around $5000 additional from various family members towards our wedding and honeymoon. This was also not expected, and we budgeted not to receive anything, but this was a bonus and it relieved some of the pressure on us to save.
Section Three: Expenses
UK – I auto-transfer $1,170 across various accounts to pay for our UK bills. J & I both kept some bills in our own names to try to maintain our individual UK credit scores as well as our joint one. J’s parents are also looking after our two cats whilst we’re in the US, so we transfer them some money. We’ve discovered our UK entertainment subscriptions work over here so we haven’t cancelled them and pay them from the UK accounts, which is a benefit as they’re usually cheaper.
$910 to our joint account to cover – Mortgage ($986 – includes $130 monthly overpayment), Landlord Insurance ($32), Pet Insurance ($45), our life insurance ($22 – it pains me that the cats cost twice as much as we do. Obviously, they don’t have the NHS covering their medical costs, but they also don’t have a mortgage to pay off….), J’s UK phone bill ($35) – he’s still tied into his contract. The rent income comes into this account so that covers any delta and builds a pot to pay the tax bill. It works out at around $388 per month saved for this. We also pay around ($150) annually to cover IT costs including Microsoft office, McAfee Security and Dropbox storage.
$143 to my bills account to cover – my UK phone bill ($23), a second UK phone bill that I need to cancel as they wouldn’t transfer my existing number to them ($6), Trade Union membership ($19), Netflix ($12), Annual magazine subscription ($19). Any money left over for is for UK online orders and so we have money available when we visit home.
$65 to J’s account to cover – Amazon Prime ($10), Spotify ($20), Audible ($15) and annual Xbox Live ($50)
$52 to J’s parents for the cats.
UK Savings – we have $2,340 to split across the savings. The split varies each month, but as I’ve hit my FoF goal the focus will be on getting J’s to the goal amount and then joint savings.
US – TV, WiFi and Hulu ($131), Phone Bills ($167), Car Insurance ($110), Naked Wines ($40), HelloFresh ($523), Annual Renters Insurance ($152). We currently get Disney+ free with our phones, but this will end soon, and I expect we’ll start paying for it as well.
US Savings – I usually transfer between $500-$1,000 into savings when J gets paid but will vary this based on how much we have left in the checking account from his last pay and what bills are due. We’ll also raid this as needed for big purchases or if we’re running low in on cash in the checking account.
​
Day 1 – Saturday
0900 – I’ve been waking up on and off for a few hours, but the alarm has gone off, so I drag myself out of bed. J and I are booked into a second-hand book sale from between 11 and 12 so we need to actually get out of the house this morning. I tidy up a bit, have a shower and miss a call from my mum whilst I’m in there. I check J is up before calling her back and have a good catch up with her and my Nan.
1115 – We’re a little later than planned, but we make it to the sale. I picked the second slot so that there would still be a good selection of books available and am pleasantly surprised by the amount and overall COVID set up. We spend almost an hour browsing and come away with 15 books between us. $60.01
1210 – We left the apartment without eating breakfast, but there’s a restaurant open next to the sale that we haven’t tried before so we pop in and have a burger each. Discover there’s a cocktail bar underneath and make note to head back and try that soon. $41.92
1600 – J has spent the afternoon building Ikea furniture we bought last week and hiding in the bedroom watching YouTube videos whilst I clean, watch The Haunting of Hill House and drink copious amounts of tea. We bought our car in a bit of a rush when we arrived and to replace his Rightmove house obsession, J spends a lot of his time looking at cars available here. Last week he found an American muscle car that looks in good shape and isn’t extortionate, so in his argument to “buy American, eat American, drive American” whilst we’re here, he’s arranged a visit check it out and test drive it. We’re meant to be there at half past, but we had the wrong address and there’s been an accident so it’s actually an hour’s drive, and we don’t get there until 1715 - Oops. I do not want to like the car, but I’m honestly sold – I knew our current car wasn’t the best, and planned to cope with it for the three years, but this is such an improvement and feels like a fun car to drive on road trips. We arrange to come back next week to buy the car and head back home. Thankfully, the traffic has cleared so it only takes 40mins. We while away the journey by listening to an episode of My Dad Wrote a Porno.
1830 – We stop by Giant to pick up some essentials (loo roll, seltzer, beer, milk) and food for the rest of the weekend. $103.25. I cook pork chops, roast potatoes, asparagus and gravy for dinner, and we spend the evening chilling in front of Netflix with wine before heading to bed at midnight.
Daily total: $205.18
Day 2 – Sunday
0830 – I wake up and sneak out of bed without disturbing J, make myself a cup of tea and settle down to finish off The Haunting of Hill House. J hates scary shows/films, so I try to watch things before he’s up, but he still needs to be in the house otherwise my imagination will go wild. The show finishes and I hear no sign of movement, so I make another cup of tea and discover The Princess Diaries 2 is on freeform so obviously I watch this.
1100 – J gets up and makes us scrambled eggs and smoked salmon for brunch. There was meant to be a bread roll with this, but according to J it had gone off. Silently complain that I didn’t pick up some bagels whilst we were shopping last night. We stick The Office on in the background and binge far too much of it whilst I multitask and convert our savings/bills spreadsheet into $ for the intro to this.
1630 – I had grand plans to spend the day cleaning and assumed J’s mum would do her weekly skype call with us at 3, neither of which has happened, and I only realise this now. I suggest we message some friends to see if they fancy an afternoon pick-me-up, but they are hanging from last night, and I remember I’m doing interviews in the morning so probably not the smartest move. I have a shower, wash and sort my hair out to save time in the morning.
1800 – I get an email reminding me that I have items in my basket on an online order and that they’ve given me 15% off. Seems rude not complete it – J has a quick browse to see if there’s anything he likes but nothing takes his fancy. So it’s just non-wired bras for me and a very cute bee print quilt set. It’s a UK based store so I pay using my UK bank account. $123
1900 – J cooks dinner tonight, a HelloFresh recipe for firecracker meatballs with rice. We stick The Office on in the background, finish the rest of last nights wine and the entire series, getting to bed at half 11.
Daily total: $123
Day 3 – Monday
0630 – Alarm goes off. Ugh. It disturbs J, so I apologise for waking him, hit snooze and repeat 5 minutes later. Rather than getting straight up, I waste half an hour browsing Facebook before washing and getting ready. As an attempt to look semi presentable, I put actual work clothes on, straighten my hair and put on some mascara and powder.
0755 – I make it onto the laptop and do some prep before the interviews. Checking my emails, I spot that I’ve been paid my US pay today. The annual pay rise has come through and there’s a small backdate from last months pay, so I have an additional $127 this month. I clear a few more emails and make a cup of tea before starting the interviews.
1215 – Interviews are done, and as a panel we have discussed and come to a decision. We all need to type up our outcomes for HR, but I take a lunch break before my brain melts. J heats up leftover meatballs and rice from last night and we watch an episode of The Good Place whilst we eat. J’s heading into the office this afternoon so I tidy up, stick the dishwasher on and faff about on reddit before getting back to work at 1. Go straight back into a call with my Line Manager to touch base before he goes on leave – he lets me know he put me forward (and I have been approved) for a bonus for my efforts since joining last year, and the added COVID response. I’m touched and proceed to spend a while mentally spending it. I’m debating between a pair of Louboutin’s and a spin bike…. Slightly different ends of the spectrum I know. Keen to hear any inspiration! It should be around $1000 after tax so reasonably substantial.
1630 – J comes home and attempts to get in, but I appear to have locked him out. I get up, open the door and see that he comes baring this week’s HelloFresh box, which is a relief as I hadn’t seen any delivery emails (we had a few go missing in our apartment block when we started). I have a small break to see how his afternoon has been and reply to some messages with friends about possible Halloween costumes for a small gathering we’re going to. We jokingly consider a group The Office effort, which results in numerous gifs being shared. In a moment of inspiration, J passes me his shirt, tie and blazer to put on… turns out I’m a pretty convincing Sexy Toby. I get changed back into my own clothes and head back to work for a bit.
1930 – J finished work earlier so cooked again. Tonight’s is a HF spicy shrimp pasta. It’s a bit disappointing even with him adding extras from the cupboard. We eat and watch the Umbrella Academy before heading to bed at 11.
Daily total: $0
Day 4 – Tuesday
0730 – alarm goes off, get up, washed, dressed. No interviews today so back to COVID home working uniform of no make-up and trackies. Make a cup of tea and am at my desk for 0830 – in and out of meetings until 10 and spend the rest of the morning trying to catch up on my inbox. J’s headed into the office, so I take the opportunity to listen to the Hamilton soundtrack as I work. Get through the first track before admitting defeat that despite my amazing multitasking skills, I can’t actually sing along and type coherent emails. Settle for the LOTR soundtrack instead.
1215 – make it to lunch and reheat last night’s leftovers (we order HelloFresh for four people for the leftovers, as before we were just ordering in lunch every day). Realise I haven’t physically left the flat for longer than I care to admit, so take my lunch onto the balcony and eat it whilst reading through a money diary on reddit. Remember I have a meeting at 1, so sign back in ten mins before and read through the emails in a vague attempt to sound prepared.
J buys himself and his boss lunch in the office, but his boss will pay him back so $12.17
1900 – long afternoon, managed to start nothing on my actual to-do-list, so feel like I haven’t achieved anything. Yay. J got home half an hour ago (I didn’t lock him out today!) and switched the oven on as he walked past, so I take the opportunity to get up and cook once it’s done preheating. Pork tenderloin with coleslaw and mash tonight. It comes with a cherry jam sauce which I’m not the biggest fan of, so I make it into a fruity gravy. It takes longer to cook than I planned, and I can feel myself getting more and more annoyed with everything from a general mix of feeling stressed and hangry. J sticks toy story 4 on as we eat which doesn’t help my mood (as let’s face it, it’s the worst one). Our friends message asking if we’re watching the debates – J had planned to but had forgotten so quickly changes over to watch it. I have no words.
We make plans to watch the next debate in a group with alcohol, debate bingo and the next day booked off work to recover.
Head to bed at 1120 – still waste time on Facebook despite being shattered.
Daily total: $12.17
Day 5 – Wednesday
0830 – Alarm goes off. I didn’t get to sleep up until 12.30 and J disturbed me at 1.30 when he came to bed so extra sleep was needed. I check my phone, message my stepsister a happy birthday and stick on my dressing gown to make sure I’m online for my 9am meeting. Thankfully, no one has an update, so the meeting is cancelled, and I have time to shower and put clothes on before I properly start work.
1230 – Lunchtime. I have the remaining shrimp pasta and J makes a BBQ chicken sandwich with other leftovers in the fridge and we stick on another episode of The Good Place whilst we eat. We finish up, work for an hour and then drive into the office. J needs to stay in for a while, but I’m only in to sign a cheque so I take the opportunity to walk back home. It’s a glorious sunny day, but with a nice breeze so it’s an enjoyable walk until I’m almost back at the flat and have to walk up a hill and then 5 flights of stairs. It’s a fast reminder of just how unfit I am, and I have to have a quick lie down to recovecool down before getting back to work.
1730 – J and I have plans to meet up with our friends K and J(.2) tonight. In an act of attempting to keep some form of sanity, J and J.2 are heading out to a bar for a “Gentleman’s Club” and I’m heading round to K & J.2’s flat for wine and chick flicks. J gets home from work, kisses me hi and bye and heads straight back out. K’s getting her hair cut, so I continue working until half 6 before walking up to her apartment. I make a pit stop on route to pick up a bottle of white wine as she’s running low. The card machines are down so it’s cash only – I have a mild panic, but thankfully I find some notes in my purse - although I’m pretty sure I withdrew them pre-lockdown! $17
0200 – After a night of homemade mac’n’cheese, wine, films and putting the world to rights, I get ready to head home just as J.2 stumbles back into the flat. It’s lovely to see him, but the state he’s in makes me a bit concerned about what J is going to be like when I get home. Thankfully, when I make it back and he’s already curled up on his own side of the bed, passed out and lightly snoring away. I take off my makeup, do my teeth, get into bed and fall straight asleep.
*I’ve checked the banking app and J spent $50.50 on food and drink. The “club” made their way to our apartment around 9pm and worked their way through our booze which explains the low spend but high drunkenness.
Daily total: $67.50
Day 6 – Thursday
0700 – J’s alarm goes off. He rarely sets alarms and has an amazing ability to sleep though them, so I kick him awake to switch it off. He hits snooze rather than switching it off, so I wake up again 5mins later. Ugh. He actually manages to switch it off the second time.
0830 – My alarm goes off. I’m tired and thirsty, but other than that feeling pretty ok. J is not and I leave him snoozing in bed as I start work. It’s a slow morning (thankfully) and I periodically check on J to see if he’s feeling any better. General consensus is no. The leftovers in the house are not hangover friendly so we put in an order with Panera Bread. $32.25. J has a choose two, but I brought home some mac’n’cheese from last night so just order some crisps and a smoothie to go with it. It takes longer than expected to arrive, but it means a 1230 lunch in front of The Good Place. We finish and go back to work, J heads into the office again.
1400 – I’ve struggled to get back into the swing of things, and as there haven’t been too many emails coming in I take the opportunity to have a break and lie down on the bed (I work flexi hours and have a very high balance so this is done guilt-free). This lie down turns into an hour-long nap and I wake up feeling better, but still while away some time on reddit before deciding to make it back to work at 4.
1920 – J messaged to say he’s on his way back and I’ve already heated the oven, so I finish for the night and start making dinner. Tonight’s HF menu is a creamy lemon butter chicken with courgette and giant couscous. It’s reasonably simple to make, but one of our favourites. I multitask and clean down the kitchen as I go.
2000 – Dinner is eaten, J has made us a cup of tea and we’re settled back into The Good Place. Yesterday was payday into my UK account so I log into the internet banking and transfer to the savings accounts (the bill transfers are set up to auto-transfer on the 1st). $1,170 to J’s savings so he’s now at his FoF goal, $650 to the maternity pot, and $780 to the joint savings. The annual renter’s insurance has also come out of our US checking account today, but that’s counted in the expenses. We both head to bed at 11.
Daily total: $32.25
Day 7 – Friday
0730 – J’s alarm goes off, he’s heading back into the office this morning so it’s valid today and we both actually wake up for it. We both chill on our phones until my alarm goes off at 0830. Up, washed, dressed and on the laptop in time for my 9am meeting. I’m closing off last months accounts and updating forecasts so get stuck into multiple spreadsheets.
1440 – I’d gotten into a good rhythm with the updates, and without J here, I hadn’t realised the time, so I only stop now for lunch. It’s last nights leftovers so couscous and chicken, plus an apple left over from J’s Panera order yesterday. J didn’t take anything in so has stopped by Safeway $14.13 and the work café $9.48. I get the figures from the banking app and realise J has been paid – win. I have an hour break and head back online.
2020 – I’ve been in the swing of things today. It’s a long winded, but simple task so I’ve had Greys Anatomy on in the background as I work. I’d normally have left some of it until Monday, but I have a few urgent requests in today that need the updated figures so it made sense to get it all cleared – it’s also quite therapeutic so feels like a nice way to end the week . J and I have plans to see friends tomorrow, so I don’t feel too bad about not having plans for a Friday night and working for most of it instead. Still, we make the most of it being payday and order in some Steak Frites for dinner and I treat myself to a chocolate cake slice as well. $80.25. We spend the rest of the evening relaxing, finish watching The Good Place (a very emotional finale) and make it into bed for half 11.
Daily total: $103.86
​
Total Expenditure: $543.96
Food & Drink: $257.70
Groceries: $103.25
Clothes/Home: $123.00
Other: $60.01
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Lastly, reflect on your diary!
This is a pretty average week for us during COVID. We usually go out drinking over every other weekend, but that extra spending would balance out with the home/other expenditure as I try to make sure we spread our spending out. The AMEX balance is a bit higher than the usual weekly amount as J and I both ordered a trunk club a few weeks and kept a few of the clothes but the system errored which delayed us processing our returns (and them billing us). As we’ll looking to buy the car soon, it also feels like a better decision to leave the balance on the card and keep more cash available – I’m not concerned as we’re only just into the new credit statement period and J’s will get an extra pay period this month which will clear it.
Pre-COVID, this is actually lower than our weekly spend, as we also had most of my salary coming into the US account as well and were spending most of it socialising, travelling and just enjoying living in a city. If we had to, we could cut our costs and save a lot more, but we’re here to enjoy ourselves and so long as we can eat and pay the mortgage, we’re happy. We’ve also already reached our total savings goal for our time out here, so anything extra is a bonus.