Get Good with Money

Get Good with Money Plot Summary

Introduction

I sat crying in my condo, surrounded by half-packed boxes, repeating the same words over and over: "I messed up... I really messed up this time." It was 2009, the height of the Great Recession, and my life had unraveled with stunning speed. Just three days earlier, I'd learned that the preschool where I taught was closing - my supposedly recession-proof teaching job vanished overnight. With no summer income and savings rapidly depleting, I could no longer afford my mortgage payments. At 26, I had gone from having an 802 credit score, $40,000 in savings, and my own condo to facing foreclosure and moving back home with my parents. This story represents just one of countless financial falls that people experience throughout their lives. What makes the difference between those who remain financially broken and those who rebuild stronger than before isn't just technical knowledge about money management—it's developing emotional resilience and practical strategies that work in real-world situations. Through personal narratives of financial collapse and resurrection, we'll explore how anyone can transform their relationship with money, regardless of their starting point or past mistakes. These stories reveal that financial wholeness isn't about perfection but about progress—creating systems that align with your values while building security for both today and tomorrow.

Chapter 1: The Financial Crash: When My Credit Score Plummeted

My financial journey began with strong foundations. Growing up, my Nigerian immigrant parents wove money lessons into our daily lives. When I was six, each of my sisters and I had a weekly "Ice Cream Day" when we could ask for a dollar when the ice cream truck came around. One day when my turn arrived, my father solemnly informed me, "Odochi, the water man just left with your dollar." Confused, I learned that my habit of leaving water running throughout the house had consequences - the water bill had taken priority over my ice cream money. That night, after my dramatic tantrum subsided, my father sat me down for my first purposeful money talk: our choices directly impact our quality of life. By my mid-twenties, I thought I'd mastered these lessons. Despite my modest teacher's salary of $39,000, I had saved $40,000 in under three years. I owned a condo. My credit score was stellar. Then came the first domino in my financial downfall - a man I'll call Jack the Thief. Impressed by his apparent wealth, I asked him to teach me about investing. His advice? Open new credit cards, take cash advances, and invest $20,000 with him to import American brands to his European stores. The contract promised $2,000 weekly returns for two years. Blinded by dreams of helping my parents retire early, I ignored the bank employees' concerned questions and handed over the money. That same week, I compounded my mistake by spending another $15,000 on credit for an online business mentorship program. In less than seven days, I went from zero credit card debt to $35,000 in the hole. When Jack disappeared with my money, I spent nearly two years refusing to accept responsibility, making minimum payments while futilely hunting him down. By the time I finally accepted reality at age 29, I had $52,000 in student loans, a $220,000 mortgage, $35,000 in credit card debt, depleted savings, no job, and had just ended a seven-year relationship. The situation worsened when I rented my condo to an unreliable friend who consistently paid late. I depleted my remaining savings and even withdrew my retirement funds trying to cover the mortgage. For two years, I lived with my parents under a strict curfew despite being almost thirty, slept in my childhood bed, avoided friends, and screened calls from bill collectors. Eventually, the bank foreclosed on my condo. My financial identity - the responsible money manager among my friends - had crumbled, leaving me unsure of who I was anymore. The turning point came when my lifelong friend Linda finally got me on the phone after months of avoidance. When I broke down and confessed everything, her response changed my perspective: "Is that it? I thought you committed a crime. Tiffany, everyone is struggling with their finances. That doesn't make you a bad person. That makes you human." This normalization of financial struggle allowed me to forgive myself and focus on solutions. I rediscovered the budgeting, saving, and debt management strategies I'd learned growing up and began rebuilding. As I regained financial footing, friends noticed and asked for help. Soon I was sitting with someone every weekend, creating financial plans. My sister nicknamed me "The Budgetnista," and eventually, this volunteer work caught the attention of my local United Way, who hired me to teach financial classes. From this first contract, my business was born. Financial crashes rarely happen overnight—they're usually the culmination of several decisions that seem reasonable in isolation but catastrophic in combination. The path to recovery begins not with complex financial strategies but with something more fundamental: self-forgiveness and the courage to face reality honestly. When we stop hiding from our financial truth, we create space for transformation that extends far beyond our bank accounts.

Chapter 2: Budgeting Through Crisis: Creating a Sustainable Plan

When I began teaching others about budgeting, I discovered that many people view budgets as restrictive - financial straitjackets that limit freedom and joy. This couldn't be further from truth. A proper budget isn't a "no" plan; it's a "say yes" plan that creates pathways to your wildest dreams. Whether it's traveling, returning to school, or starting a business, a thoughtful budget lays out the path toward your fabulous future. After my financial collapse, I needed to rebuild from scratch. I started by creating what I now call a Money List - a formally documented, semi-automated itemization of my income, expenses, and savings. This wasn't a vague "I spend maybe $40 on gas" approximation. It required specific figures about my monthly income, fixed expenses, and variable costs. I needed solid bricks of facts and figures, not cloudy visions of cash flow. Without knowing exactly what my money was doing, I couldn't do much with it. I approached budgeting like visiting a doctor when feeling unwell. First, I diagnosed my financial situation by making a Money-In list (all income sources), followed by a Money-Out list (all expenses). I calculated each expense's monthly cost and subtracted my total spending from my income to find my Beginning Monthly Savings. This moment of truth - what I call "Tears & Tissues Time" - revealed whether I had a positive or negative cash flow. For many people, including myself during reconstruction, this step can feel like a punch to the gut. But knowledge, even painful knowledge, is power. Next came the treatment plan. I assigned control categories to each expense: B for Bills (recurring obligations like rent or mortgage), UB for Utility Bills (usage-based necessities like electricity), and C for Cash expenses (discretionary spending like entertainment and grooming). This categorization revealed whether I had a "don't-make-enough" issue (mostly B and UB expenses) or a "spend-too-much" issue (mostly C expenses). During my teaching days, I was surprised to discover I had almost no C expenses - my income simply didn't stretch beyond my bills. Understanding this helped me focus on increasing income through tutoring and babysitting rather than trying to cut non-existent luxuries. With this clarity, I could strategically reduce expenses or increase income. For spending reductions, I tackled expenses in order of control (C, then UB, then B). For income challenges, I created a "Brag Book" documenting my workplace contributions to support raise requests, and developed side hustles aligned with my skills. I then separated my funds into multiple accounts: two checking accounts (one for spending, one for bills) and at least two savings accounts (emergency and goals). I used different types of banking institutions - a brick-and-mortar bank for checking, an online-only bank for savings (to make impulse withdrawals inconvenient), and a credit union for low-interest loans. The foundation of financial wholeness isn't about complex investment strategies or get-rich-quick schemes - it's about mastering these fundamentals. A solid budget gives you the clarity to say yes to what matters most, creating a stable platform from which your dreams can take flight. When we shift our perspective from seeing budgeting as restriction to viewing it as illumination, we transform our relationship with money from one of anxiety to one of empowerment and possibility.

Chapter 3: The Squirrel Strategy: Building Emergency Savings

In New Jersey where I live, you'll never see a sickly squirrel in the park despite our extreme seasonal weather. These clever creatures thrive because they adapt their behavior to seasonal changes. During abundant times, they gather and stash acorns relentlessly, even planting some for future harvests. When winter arrives, they don't stand shocked saying, "Wait, what?! It's winter again?" They prepared during good times and now live comfortably off their savings. Human behavior often runs counter to this squirrel wisdom. We splurge during good times, living for the moment without thought for the future. When enjoying prosperity, we believe it will last forever; when facing hardship, we think bad times are permanent. This mindset leaves us vulnerable when financial winter inevitably comes - whether through job loss, medical emergencies, family needs, or economic downturns. If you haven't prepared and must scramble for resources during these cold seasons, you'll find yourself competing with everyone else also searching for scarce nuts. After rebuilding my finances, I developed what I call the Squirrel Strategy for saving. First, I identified two distinct savings categories: emergency savings and goal savings. For emergency funds, I calculated my "Noodle Budget" - the bare minimum I needed for essential expenses if I had to live on ramen noodles. I multiplied this monthly amount by three (initially) to determine my emergency savings target. For a friend I'll call Monica, her regular budget was $5,000 monthly, but her bare-bones budget was $3,500. Her three-month emergency fund goal became $10,500, requiring $290 monthly savings over three years. For goal savings, I created separate "money buckets" for specific objectives. Monica wanted to save $2,000 for her honeymoon in eighteen months, requiring $110 monthly deposits. I emphasized that these savings goals should become bills on your Money List - non-negotiable expenses paid first, not last. This mindset shift transforms saving from an afterthought to a priority. When finding money to fund these savings seems impossible, I recommend "dropping down and getting your noodle on" - temporarily living on your Noodle Budget to jumpstart your savings. This isn't about permanent sacrifice but strategic frugality to fuel future security. During my post-recession recovery, I lived on my Noodle Budget for two years - cooking instead of dining out, doing my own beauty maintenance, and enjoying free entertainment. This temporary adjustment created space for saving. Saving like a squirrel isn't about deprivation - it's about preparation that provides peace of mind and freedom of choice. When financial winter comes, you'll be tucked safely away with your acorns while others scramble in the snow. The security of knowing you can weather unexpected storms allows you to make decisions from a place of confidence rather than fear, transforming your relationship with money from reactive to proactive, from scarcity to sufficiency.

Chapter 4: Breaking Free: My Journey Out of Debt

The first step in breaking free from debt is shifting how you think and talk about it. When you say "I'm in debt," you're treating debt like a place - and places can become traps. Debt isn't a location; it's a temporary condition you can overcome with strategy and persistence. I know this firsthand, having climbed out from under $87,000 of combined student loan and credit card debt. After creating my Debt List - a detailed inventory of everything I owed - I began looking for restructuring opportunities. For my credit card debt, I called creditors to negotiate lower interest rates, leveraging my history as a loyal customer. When that didn't work, I researched balance transfer offers, finding cards with promotional 0% interest periods. This strategy gave me breathing room to make progress on the principal without accumulating additional interest. For my student loans, I carefully evaluated whether refinancing made sense, considering that federal loans offer protections like forbearance and forgiveness options that private loans don't. With my restructured debt in place, I needed a paydown plan. Two popular approaches exist: the Snowball Method (paying smallest balances first) and the Avalanche Method (tackling highest interest rates first). The Snowball Method provides quick wins that boost motivation - you eliminate entire accounts faster, building confidence to continue. The Avalanche Method is mathematically optimal, saving more money over time by eliminating the most expensive debt first. I created a hybrid approach that combined psychological wins with financial optimization. I started with the Snowball Method to experience the satisfaction of completely eliminating smaller debts. This gave me momentum and confidence. Then I shifted to the Avalanche Method for larger balances, focusing on high-interest accounts that were costing me the most. Throughout this process, I maintained minimum payments on all accounts except the one I was targeting with extra funds. A critical breakthrough came when I started treating unexpected money as debt-reduction opportunities. Birthday gifts, tax refunds, work bonuses, even finding $20 in an old coat pocket - I immediately applied half of these windfalls to my target debt. When shopping, if something rang up cheaper than expected, I transferred the difference to my debt payment. These small actions accumulated significantly over time. After three years of disciplined effort, I eliminated my $35,000 credit card debt and $52,000 student loans. The freedom I felt was incredible - not just financially but emotionally. The weight that had pressed down on me for years lifted, allowing me to breathe freely and look toward building wealth rather than just managing obligations. This journey taught me that debt freedom isn't about deprivation but about reclaiming your resources and redirecting them toward your true priorities and dreams.

Chapter 5: Credit Resurrection: Rebuilding Trust with Lenders

When my credit score plummeted from 802 to 547 during the recession, I felt like I'd lost a core part of my identity. I had always been "the responsible one" financially, and suddenly I was facing collection calls and a foreclosure. What I didn't realize then was that credit scores aren't moral judgments - they're risk assessments designed to calculate the likelihood you'll repay debts. Understanding this distinction was my first step toward rebuilding. To resurrect my credit, I needed to understand the three main players in the credit system: my credit report (like a financial transcript showing my history), my credit score (like a GPA averaging my financial choices), and the credit bureaus (like teachers grading my performance). With this framework in mind, I focused on the five components that make up a FICO score, addressing each strategically. Payment history accounts for 35% of your score - the largest portion. I started by verifying my credit report for accuracy, disputing errors, and establishing perfect on-time payment patterns going forward. For accounts already in collections, I negotiated settlements in exchange for removal from my report. This component takes time to improve because recent activity weighs more heavily than older history, but consistent positive payments gradually heal past wounds. Credit utilization represents 30% of your score, measuring how much of your available credit you're using. I discovered that keeping utilization under 10% (rather than the commonly cited 30%) dramatically improved my score. I implemented what I call the "Jump Like Jordan" technique - designating one credit card solely for a small monthly subscription like Netflix, then paying it off in full every month after the statement date but before the due date. This created a payment loop that showed both responsible usage and full payment, causing my score to "jump" higher each month. Credit inquiries influence 10% of your score, reflecting how actively you're seeking new credit. I became selective about authorizing hard pulls on my credit, which can lower scores for up to a year. When shopping for major loans like mortgages, I utilized the "shop around rule" that counts multiple inquiries for the same purpose within 14-45 days as just one inquiry. For credit cards, I avoided applying for multiple accounts in short timeframes, which can trigger what lenders call the "bankruptcy indicator" - a red flag suggesting financial desperation. The most surprising aspect of my credit resurrection was how quickly it happened despite the foreclosure on my record. Within 18 months, my score had climbed from 547 to 750. The foreclosure remained visible, but my strategic focus on the five components outweighed its negative impact. Meanwhile, my husband's score jumped from 630 to 760 in just three months by paying off his single maxed-out secured card - demonstrating how dramatically credit scores can improve with targeted action. Throughout this rebuilding process, I maintained perspective about what credit really represents. A high score doesn't mean you're wealthy or financially whole - it simply means lenders trust you to repay what you borrow. Credit is one tool in your financial toolkit, not the entire workshop. By understanding the system's mechanics rather than viewing it as mysterious or moralistic, I transformed what had been my greatest financial shame into a source of empowerment and knowledge I could share with others.

Chapter 6: Multiple Income Streams: Beyond the Traditional Paycheck

When I lost my teaching job during the recession, I learned a painful lesson about financial vulnerability. Relying on a single income stream is like building a table with one leg - it might stand temporarily, but it lacks stability. This realization led me to develop what I now call the "income diversification strategy" - creating multiple sources of money flowing into my life. Before exploring side hustles, I first maximized earnings from my primary job. I created a "Brag Book" (or "Go Me!" file) documenting every contribution I made to my employer - quantifying cost savings, revenue generation, process improvements, and problem-solving wins. This data-driven approach transformed salary negotiations from emotional pleas to business propositions. When a friend who worked as a hospital attorney was denied a raise, she referenced her documented settlements showing she'd saved the hospital $10 million in legal fees. Being denied a $10,000 raise suddenly appeared absurd in comparison, and she received her increase. Beyond negotiating raises, I looked for opportunities to enhance my skills through additional training, certifications, and education - often employer-funded. When interviewing for new positions, I negotiated not just salary but the entire compensation package. My friend Sandy couldn't get her desired salary at a Manhattan firm but secured a work-from-home arrangement two days weekly, saving substantial commuting costs and improving her quality of life. These non-salary benefits often have quantifiable value that can offset lower base pay. With my primary income maximized, I turned to developing side hustles aligned with my existing skills. I began by taking inventory of what I already knew how to do well. As a teacher, babysitting and tutoring were natural extensions requiring no additional training. These side gigs earned me an extra $6,000 annually with minimal effort. The key was lowering the learning curve by leveraging my established expertise rather than starting from scratch in an unfamiliar field. When assessing potential side hustles, I prioritized three categories: skills from my current job, skills from my education/certifications, and skills others recognized in me that I might overlook. This last category proved particularly valuable. While I saw myself primarily as a teacher, friends and family consistently asked for budgeting help. Their requests revealed a marketable skill I hadn't fully appreciated - financial coaching. This recognition eventually transformed my side hustle into The Budgetnista, my main business and passion. My journey from financial devastation to abundance taught me that income diversity isn't just about survival - it's about creating options and opportunities. When I was teaching, my side hustles provided essential supplemental income. Later, when helping friends with budgeting became my passion, those informal sessions evolved into a business that eventually surpassed my teaching salary many times over. What began as necessity transformed into purpose, showing that financial resilience often comes from unexpected sources when we remain open to recognizing and developing our unique talents.

Chapter 7: Investing for Tomorrow: The Long Game to Freedom

Seven years after starting my business, I was making more monthly than I used to earn annually as a teacher. I had paid off all my debt, saved nearly 70% of my income, and purchased both a car and foreclosed house with cash. I even paid off my parents' remaining $120,000 mortgage. By most standards, I was financially successful. Yet paradoxically, I felt more financially anxious than when I was earning $39,000 teaching preschool. This fear stemmed from my traumatic experience during the recession. Despite my substantial cash reserves, I hadn't adjusted my insurance to cover my new lifestyle, updated my retirement plan, created an estate plan, or developed strategies to grow wealth beyond savings. One financial planner even laughed at me for keeping so much money in low-yield bank accounts rather than investing it. I was financially free but not financially whole. I realized that money, like a plant, needs to grow to stay alive. Inflation gradually erodes the purchasing power of uninvested cash - prices typically double every twenty years. If your money isn't growing through investment, you're effectively becoming poorer each day. This insight led me to develop an investing strategy focused on two distinct goals: retirement security and wealth building. For retirement investing, I created a mental image of my future self - a persona I named Wanda. Wanda is sassy, slightly nosy, and enjoys sitting on her front porch observing neighborhood happenings. When making financial decisions, I ask myself, "Is this good for Wanda?" While present-day Tiffany can work longer hours or start another business, Wanda deserves rest. This personification makes the abstract concept of retirement concrete and emotional, helping me prioritize future security over immediate gratification. I discovered that retirement planning isn't about saving an impossibly large sum - it's about planting financial seeds that grow over time through compound interest. Using the Rule of 72 (dividing 72 by your expected interest rate shows how many years it takes money to double), I calculated that $5,000 invested at 8% would become $10,000 in about nine years without adding another penny. This "acorns into oak trees" perspective made retirement saving feel achievable rather than overwhelming. Perhaps most importantly, I learned to balance present enjoyment with future security. Rather than extreme frugality or reckless spending, I created a financial plan that allowed me to live well today while still preparing for tomorrow. By aligning my investments with my values and time horizons, I transformed money from a source of anxiety into a tool for creating the life I truly wanted - both now and in the future. This balance between present joy and future security represents the ultimate expression of financial wholeness - using money as a means to support a life of meaning and purpose across all stages of our journey.

Summary

The journey from financial chaos to control isn't a straight path but rather a series of falls and rises that ultimately lead to wisdom. Through my own dramatic financial collapse - going from an 802 credit score to foreclosure and debt - I discovered that money management isn't about perfection but persistence. When my friend Linda finally got me to open up about my financial troubles, her simple words changed everything: "That doesn't make you a bad person. That makes you human." This permission to be imperfect while still striving for better became the foundation of my recovery and eventually my life's work. The most profound lesson from my journey is that financial wholeness requires both technical knowledge and emotional intelligence. Understanding budgeting, saving, debt management, credit building, income generation, and investing creates the framework, but addressing our psychological relationship with money provides the motivation to implement these strategies consistently. By developing a budget that says "yes" to priorities rather than "no" to desires, saving like a squirrel during abundant seasons, approaching debt strategically rather than emotionally, rebuilding credit through systematic action, diversifying income sources, and investing for both retirement and wealth, anyone can transform their financial reality regardless of their starting point. The path to financial control begins not with a certain income level but with a decision to face your current reality honestly and take one small step forward today.

About Author

Loading...

Tiffany Aliche

Tiffany the Budgetnista Aliche is America's favorite personal finance educator! She is also author of New York Times bestselling book, Get Good with Money.

Read more