Personal finance used to be simple. You had some money, then you didn’t, and nobody gave it a name. Now every financial behaviour has a trend term, a hashtag and a man in a parked car explaining it to camera, who will retire before you on the ad revenue alone.
To help, I compiled this glossary. I have done everything in it, often in the same week, occasionally in the same hour.
The Optimisers
Moneymaxxing (n.) – Squeezing every possible cent out of your finances through cashback, points, high-interest savings and bill negotiation. Requires a spreadsheet, nine apps, three hours a week and the stamina of a hostage negotiator. Typical annual yield: $61, a slight tremor and the knowledge that you spent 156 hours of your one finite life earning 39 cents an hour.
Cashback (n.) – Money you receive for spending money. The financial equivalent of being thanked for falling down the stairs. I have earned $14.20 this year by spending $2,100 on things I would not have bought without cashback. The bank calls me “a valued customer”. The bank is right. I am extremely valuable. To the bank.
Points (n.) – A currency spendable only on things nobody wants, at an exchange rate that changes every time you look. I have 48,000 points. They are worth a flight somewhere sunny or a toaster. The toaster is out of stock. The flight is on a Tuesday at 5am. The points expire in March. So, eventually, do I. The points are in no hurry.
High-Yield Savings Account (n.) – An account that pays real interest, provided there is money in it. I opened one with enormous pride. It earns enough each month to buy a single grape. A good grape. But one. At this rate I can retire at 212, on grapes.
Bill Negotiation (n.) – Phoning your provider and threatening to leave. Moneymaxxers do this with steel. I did it with an apology. I said, “I’m thinking of leaving.” The man said, “Okay.” I said, “I’m not, though.” My bill went up. He could hear it: a man who has never left anything.
Cashback is the financial equivalent of being thanked for falling down the stairs.
The Abstainers
Loud Budgeting (n.) – Announcing that you’re not spending money instead of inventing a migraine. “I’m loud budgeting this month” is the new “I’ve got a thing that night”. It is healthy and honest and turns every group dinner into an audit of who ordered a starter. It was you. They’re splitting the bill evenly anyway.
Underconsumption Core (n.) – The aesthetic of using what you already own. Wearing the 2014 hoodie. Finishing the shampoo. Rolling the toothpaste tube up like a tiny carpet. For anyone over 35, this isn’t a trend. It’s a Tuesday. We’ve been underconsuming for years. We just called it “the last week of the month” and nobody filmed it in good lighting.
No-Spend Month (n.) – Thirty days of buying nothing non-essential. Ends on day nine, in a supermarket, holding a candle called “Autumn Reset” and telling yourself candles are basically lighting, lighting is basically essential, and you are basically fine.
The Collapse
Doom Spending (n.) – Buying things because the world feels uncertain and at least the parcel arrives Thursday. The opposite of moneymaxxing, usually performed by the same person, same evening, same phone, different apps, same face.
Little Treat (n.) – A purchase justified by having survived something. Monday. A meeting. Opening the high-yield savings account and seeing the grape. Individually small. Collectively the reason there is only a grape.
Pension (n.) – A story about a person you will never meet: you, at 72, solvent. Widely read as fiction, including by most pension funds.
Financial Wellness (n.) – All your money in the right accounts, every point maximised, every bill negotiated. Rumoured to exist. I once met a man who had achieved it. Very calm. No hobbies. One well-maintained jumper. He died at 81 fully optimised, and his eulogy was mostly about his savings rate. Lovely turnout. Nobody cried until the will.
I am currently moneymaxxing, loud budgeting and doom spending simultaneously. I track it all in a spreadsheet. It has eleven tabs. The last one is called “Why”. It’s empty. It’s the only one that balances.