Neither a borrower nor a lender be,
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
- Hamlet Act 1, scene 3, 75–77
I really hate borrowing money; the hassle of going to a bank diminishes the excitement of buying a car and I never have liked borrowing money for other reasons, even a few dollars, from a friend. I've loaned money to people and found out they'd avoid me afterwards. There's something about being beholden to someone that makes for resentment from some folks. As evidenced by the above verse, Shakespeare realized it, too.
Flashback: It was a weekend during the school year; I was barely sixteen and hadn't had a car or my license for very long and had a date for that Saturday night. Since it wasn't the summer, I didn't have a job and consequently didn't have much money, only a couple of lonely dollar bills in my wallet. Even though gas was about .32 cents/gallon and the cost of admission to the movies was only a fraction of what it is today, I still didn't have enough money...oh, I could probably pay to get in the theater, but popcorn would have been beyond my budget, forget about a pizza or burger afterwards.
So, I swallowed my pride and asked my dad for a loan. "Sure, how much do you need, son?" he asked, getting out his wallet. I had in mind about five bucks, but thought I'd ask for more and would settle for five if I had to. "Uh...how about ten dollars?" I tentatively asked. "Sure." said my dad, pulling the bill out and holding it out towards me. I reached for it, then he pulled it back a little. "Of course, there's the interest."
Great, I thought. What the heck, I asked what the terms were. "100% interest." said pop. Sheesh, even though bank loans were fairly expensive, that seemed outrageous, more what a Mafia loan shark would charge. Still, I was in a bind and needed the money, maybe I could renegotiate the interest later or maybe he was just kidding. I nodded my head and reached for the ten-spot.
"Well..." said my father. "The interest is due right now." and he put the bill back in his wallet. "You can pay the principal back anytime."
My mother had been listening and after I had cleaned up and was changing clothes, resigned to the fact that I was going to have to tell my girlfriend that I couldn't afford to take her out when I saw a five dollar bill sticking out of my wallet. As I was leaving, my momma winked at me, so I knew she had given me the money behind dad's back...or at least talked him into giving me some.
Still, seven dollars total wasn't going to go all that far, but at least I could buy a couple of gallons of gasoline and get into the movie and afford some refreshments, although I would have to let her eat all the popcorn so she'd fill up on that and not want a candy bar, too. I'd also have to make sure she only got the medium size cup of the Dr Pepper she so loved. Before picking her up, I stopped at the family-owned service station I traded at. Waving off the old man coming out the door when I pulled into the drive, I pumped a dollar's worth of regular into my little
Tempest.
As I got a one-dollar bill out to pay, he said "That all the gas ya gonna get? On a Saturday night?" I sheepishly admitted I couldn't afford any more and related the attempt at borrowing money from dad. The old man laughed and shuffled out to my vehicle and filled it up. "We'll just open you up a charge account." he declared. "You can pay it off when you work this summer." I was flabbergasted, but was nearly floored when his son opened up the cash register and handed me a five dollar bill. " Here's some money for your date." he said. "We'll just put that on your bill, too."
Now, what really surprised me about their generosity was that this family was known for their "frugal" ways. I once wrestled their huge Coke machine away from the wall because the old lady said she had dropped some money under it. It was a nickel. They were open on Sundays, even though I bet they didn't average a half-dozen customers during the day. I know they used a bank, but since the old man and his wife had lived through the Depression, they kept a goodly amount of money on hand. Later, when I started roughnecking, they often cashed my entire crew's paychecks for them if it looked like we weren't going to get back before the banks closed, several thousand dollars, without even blinking. (I always worried that some of the less reputable guys I worked with would come back and rob them, but it never happened)
That charge account really helped me out; from then on I didn't have to always use "
drip gas" and especially burn it in my next car, a
Ford Fairlane with a much bigger engine than the Tempest, one that didn't run too well on the unrefined fuel. They helped me out in other ways, letting me use their tire machine to fix flats w/out charging me for anything other than the materials I used. (a valve core was five cents, a patch was a dime and a valve stem was a whoppin' .25 cents!) I could also wash my car for free and in return, I would sweep their drive or clean out the wash bay sump pit and take their trash out to the dump for them. (In a sweet old
'55 Chevy pickup which I'd LOVE to have now) I later helped out with the business when the son got cancer.
I've had others help me since then, friends have offered help w/out me asking (bless you!), my banker has approved loans without embarrassing me, even my dad grudgingly gave me money when I was in a bind, but what happened on that long-ago Saturday afternoon still warms my heart. I got to take my date to the "picture show", bought her the biggest bucket of popcorn, a big box of Junior Mints and one of those tanker-sized soda pops PLUS a pizza afterwards along with a pitcher of Dr Pepper! I even had more than enough money for the Elton John tunes on the pizza place jukebox. (I think my "big spending ways" were what made her so "grateful" later, if you get my drift. I got my first charge account that day and managed to lose *something* else later that night I really didn't want at all.)
But, since that time, I've over-extended myself with credit, especially with credit cards, particularly gas credit cards. It was too easy to be able to fill up without spending "real money" and then be overwhelmed when the monthly bill hit. Even though my pop could be a cruel jokester, he also passed along some nuggets of wisdom: "Don't ever charge gas, groceries or booze and you'll do all right in this world." he would tell me. I later understood exactly what he meant; borrowing money for a car or home was different because you still had the thing, even though it might not be paid off yet, but with gas, groceries and liquor, those things were gone fairly quickly and all you were left with was debt.
