Frau Reinke came from a family that was rich in love but poor in “earthly treasures”. And she was a proud woman. When she finally did agree to marry me, “we” had to save for the wedding and setting up a home. The wedding is the responsibility of the bride’s family. Well she was one bride who was going to have the wedding she wanted. So each week, I’d hand off a third of my paycheck for the “future”.
(How moonstruck was I? The passbook was in her name since she did all the banking.)
Money was saved. Wedding was paid for. Pattern established.
Fast forward a few years.
We’re living in North Brunswick. She’s been diagnosed with diabetes. And, she wants to work. (Later I’d find out the reasons, but those aren’t germane to this memory.) She goes to work and makes a pretty good sum.
Luckily for the male ego I was making more. Enough to cover all our expenses. So, she gets her own bank account. With the very logical explanation, “What’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is ours.” Smart girl. Who needs a pre-nup?
So, being into finance and the markets, thanks to a preconscious childhood, I offer to help her with “investing”. “No help needed.”
So, she has her passbook, and she’s as happy as a clam. Each year when I did the taxes, I’d remind her that she could be earning more on her money. “No help needed.”
So, finally I get smart. I say: “I should have some money in my name”. She agrees. So I guesstimate how much she has in her passbook. (Not that hard I have her 1099 and can back into the number. Her passbook was paying about ½%.) So I put “my money” in a Dreyfus Tax Free Money Market Fund. (I think it was paying 8 and change at the time.) And, wait until next tax time.
The accountant does the taxes. We get them on a Saturday morning. I sign them without looking and give them to her. She signs them and looks them over. With some venom about “not checking”. I shrug and go to do my homework for my Comp Sci.
(Her 1099 and my “Dreyfus information statement” are attached to the forms. Her money is taxed; mine ain’t. My money is earning about 16 times what her’s is.)
You’d have sworn a cat was run over. She literally screamed. I actually thought something was wrong. It was just a realization taking place. Education hurts.
With the iciest stare I’ve ever seen, she states: “Why are you getting so much interest and I’m getting so little? Did you take more money than I have?”
It was funny.
I patiently explained that the Bank was having their way with her money. (I may have used a more graphic common verb which might be acceptable between married folk.) And, that passbooks were for children and little old ladies who didn’t know any better.
(OK, maybe that was a little harsh!)
Needless to say Our Girl was no fool. Monday at lunch time, she has her passbook converted to a statement savings account. By Wednesday, she has a Vangard Money Market account. And, by Friday, she is making non-tax deferred contributions to her Principal 401k at work.
And, the rest was history.
No more passbooks for her.
And, she never credited me with giving her any help.
ROFL!
The moral of the story is never try to help a headstrong smart Irish woman; just create a learning opportunity and stand aside.
Even today, I can hear that scream in my mind’s ear.
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Reinke Faces Life 