“Hey, how much does it cost to be a Tri-Delt or whatever, anyway?”
People were nice, but coming in as a transfer and an introvert, it was hard to find my people and my place.
Even though my stomach felt queasy, I turned the internship down. It was my first professional offer for anything, and I had said no.
When I was at college, a friend of mine, who went to another small liberal arts school nearby, told me that it was an annual underclass(wo)men tradition to go Dumpster diving when the seniors left and reclaim everything from discarded furniture to functional televisions. Well, some enterprising, think-big type University of New Hampshire students have taken that idea and standardized / monetized it.
I wanted to add more freedom to my already perky lifestyle, and zeroed in on the one thing missing from my college fantasy bubble: My car.
If you’re at college and you need a loan, ask an English major.
“My college fund was my brain.”
My parents made clear that the legal system is 60% tedium, 30% paperwork, and 10% bombast.
Another columnist wrote a candid and widely read response about her own family’s finances, and what she believes is the main distinction between people who are wealthy and those who are struggling.