I am nearing the end of a phase in my life in which advice is liberally given and abundantly overused. It starts with high school graduation cards, quickly resurfaces with college graduation cards, and then is dangerously interjected in regards to inquiries about job searches, living arrangements and financial matters.
People tell you that if you work hard and apply yourself, you will be given the job you want. (They omit the fact that they do not mean right now. They mean later, approximately five years from retirement.)
People tell you it’s better to buy than rent. After all, it’s a great time to buy with the housing market shot to hell. Of course, if you do have to rent, it is cheaper to have a roommate than live on your own. And this roommate should be a friend, nothing more. That’s when things get messy. (Right now, the biggest selling point I would look for in home ownership is a nice little neighborhood Boy Scout looking to mow my grass. Not only have I never mowed in my life, I have no interest in learning. For now, my roommate does that. Who is more commonly known as my boyfriend.)
People tell you to contribute 10% of your income to your savings, no matter what. (Like I would even open a savings account with extra money. My rotation of shrimp flavored, beef flavored and chicken flavored Ramen would be upgraded first and foremost to maybe include a salad, or nice chunk of fresh fruit, thankyouverymuch.)
People tell you that these are the best years of your life. (Really? Kill me now.)
Bluebird Rising 