Mike: The other day, I added $40 to my subway card, except I discovered later that the machine messed up and actually didn’t add any money to the card. When I got home and checked my bank account, $40 was of course debited from the machine. I had just finished work, and was hungry and just wanted to take off my shoes and relax, but I walked back to the subway station and asked the person in the booth what I should do. He told me I had to fill out a form, mail the Metrocard and that form plus my receipt to MTA headquarters where they would try to sort things out for me within seven business days. But I still had some money on my card, so I decided to use it until the money ran out and then mail it in with the form. Which is my 1 Thing to take care of today. Anyway, it seems like a bit of a hassle to get this corrected, and I’m wondering if there are people out there who would be like, “forget this,” and just consider it money lost.

Logan: RAISES HAND. Also: You have the receipt?!

Mike:Yes, I always get a receipt. For record-keeping purposes! Wait, you wouldn’t try to get your $40 back? It’s $40! I’m going to be okay if I lose $40—like, it’s not going to mean I’m going to go hungry. But if I know there’s a way to get that money back I’m going to do it.

Logan: I mean, maybe I would talk to the person at the counter? Actually I probably wouldn’t because I would just know that she would need me to go through some other steps and hurdles. I don’t know I just don’t think I would. Shit happens! Except I would be nervous to refill my Metrocard until the end of time. I might not ever refill it again actually and only buy Fresh Ones. In related news, I still haven’t returned my busted headphones from last week, so.

Mike: Haha, Logan, if the machine in the subway station ever messes up, let me know so I can help you get your money back! Or at least let the MTA person know so that they can get their dumb machine fixed. And you’ve probably taken the effort to get money back before. Actually, I know you have. Also, it’s easy to think about what you’d do in a theoretical situation, but I sort of have the feeling that if a machine ate $40, you’d be like, “Uh, what? No, give me my money back.”

Logan: You’re right I need to stop making blanket statements based on the idea that I am “bad with money” and “lazy” and “not the type of person that would ______.” Everyday is a new day. Each moment is a new moment. Each me is a new me. Maybe I would go straight to the post office and write and lean against that counter in the back and write a strongly-worded letter and demand it all be fixed. And send it priority mail! It could happen!

Also Mike. Mike. I just had a startup idea. A sick sick startup idea. Everyone does everyone else’s Terrible Tedious Tasks for them. Like, I’d get you your $40 back. And you’d return my headphones. And maybe like, we’d split the proceeds? Actually this might not work at all because it would involve me getting the headphones and the receipt to you, and if I’m going to go through all that effort, I may as well just return the headphones myself, which I haven’t done, which we’ve already established, and I guess we’re back at the start! What is the missing element, what am I not seeing. Does it need to be an APP???????

Mike: Actually, I kind of like the idea of doing someone’s thing they don’t want to do in exchange for a percentage of the money. But I think it would mostly work in situations like, “Ugh, I have all these old gadgets I’m not using anymore, I should put them on eBay or Craigslist.” You could give that stuff for someone to sell for you, and then split the money however you think is fair. I think this is a seed to an idea! But it needs to be hashed out a bit more.

Logan: Aaaaannnnnnd I just got bored with it. Also it must exist. Everything exists.

Mike: Anyway, this sort of reminds me of the time Mallory got overcharged when she bought chicken wings. When do we let things slide? I think I’m likely to chase after that $40 or $5 that I know is owed to me most of the time if it doesn’t cost me in other things like time, which is also valuable to me.

Logan: I just had another thought about it, which is, it probably depends on how valuable that $5 or $40 is for your At That Moment. Like, if that $40 was my last $40 for a long time, I’d go after it like a A Large Cat. But if I had a full bank account, I’d be like, W H A T E V E R. Our personal value of a dollar changes with circumstance!

Mike: Omg. This reminds me of a time I worked for a wealthy person who told me that while he was on his lunch break, he pulled $400 out of the ATM and when he walked out of the bank, the wind blew it out of his hands. He was laughing as he was telling me this story and in my head I was thinking, “If I lost $400 to the wind, I’d cry.” And then he said, “This very interesting thing happened which was that after the money blew down the street, other people went chasing after it, and then they ran back up to me to give me the money!”—as if he expected people to just run off with it? But it’s sort of true what you’re saying: It seemed to him like no big deal to lose $400 because he probably had a million dollars in that account, but: circumstances!

Creative Mornings is a monthly lecture series started by Tina Eisenberg that now takes place in over 40 cities around the world. Last month’s New York speaker was Jessica Jackley, one of the founders of international micro-loan non-profit Kiva. The theme was MONEY. (She starts talking about the awkwardness of talking about money at about 13:00!)

If you haven’t yet seen or heard of the show Nashville, it’s basically about a 40-year-old country western superstar named Rayna Jaymes (Connie Britton of Friday Night Lights fame) who is slowly fading in the shadow of a young country popstar named Juliette Barnes (Hayden Panettiere), who’s a mix between Carrie Underwood and Taylor Swift, but the version of Swift who wears short skirts and is cheer captain in the “You Belong With Me” music video.

Nashville is also a show about money—nearly all the plot points are driven by it. Rayna’s husband Teddy Conrad depends on his wife’s salary, and struggles with the idea that he isn’t a provider. Deacon Clayborne, Rayna’s lead guitarist and former lover, gives up many lucrative career options to stay near Rayna. Juliette’s mother is always asking her for money. Rayna’s father, Lamar Wyatt, is a wealthy and powerful figure in Nashville who loves to control people with his checkbook.

Here are five money-driven plot points from the first episode of the show, and our analysis of them.

Scenario One: In the opening scene, Rayna is scrambling out the door to perform at a concert, and her daughters ask, “Why does she have to go to work? I thought we were rich?” Rayna’s husband Teddy explains that the family is “cash poor” and then says, “It’s bad manners to talk about money.”

Mike’s Take: If it’s bad manners to talk about money, I must have the worst manners on the planet. I like that Teddy uses the term “cash poor,” but then doesn’t explain to his daughters what being cash poor actually means, which is basically that the family has a lot of assets (their Nashville home is huge), but that they don’t have very much money in the bank. Here was a really nice “real talk” moment Teddy could have had with his daughter about money, but instead he’s instilling this idea in his kid that talking about money is taboo.

When I was a kid, my parents talked about money all the time, mostly because we didn’t have very much of it. They wanted me to understand why I couldn’t have things other kids had, and why we went shopping for clothes and furniture at secondhand stores and swap meets instead of the mall. They never sat me down to explain about saving or credit cards or IRAs to me, but they never avoided discussions about money when it came up either. I think this grounded me, and is part of the reason why I’m the person I am today—which is, a person who is always keenly aware of what I have and how much I’m spending.

Logan’s Take: I thought it was more interesting that the kids would know they were rich—the American way is that everyone considers themselves middle class. Also have you seen those two little girls sing “Call Your Girlfriend?” A+.

Scenario Two: Rayna learns from her record company that her newest album hasn’t charted as well as she has hoped, and that she’s not bringing in enough money to support a large tour. The record company informs Rayna that they’d like her to combine her tour with that of Juliette Barnes, which would save on tour costs and sell more tickets. Rayna balks at the idea, but is told if she doesn’t do it, the label will stop promoting her record.

Mike’s Take: I think it’s interesting that in the first scene, it’s established that Rayna has to work to provide for the family (and she often talks about how she has two little girls she needs to take care of back at home), but she won’t do it at the expense of her ego (though I’m sure Martina McBride or Faith Hill or another aging country superstar wouldn’t want to open for Taylor Swift either). Rayna’s had a solid two-decade career, but she’s not ready to to pass on the torch to the next generation of country stars yet. I’m trying to think of a situation where I turned down a paying gig I needed because of my ego, but can’t think of one. Of course, I’m also not a big name who has many other options, either.

Logan’s Take: I think this is just smart thinking. Her ego knows what’s up. If she became an opening act for a tween, that would DIMINISH HER BRAND and LOWER HER VALUE.

Scenario Three: Rayna tells Teddy that her record and tour isn’t selling, and that the label wants her to open for Juliette Barnes, which she thinks is a terrible idea (because of her ego). Teddy suggests that Rayna can solve this problem by borrowing money from her father. “I’m not going to use my daddy’s money, you know that,” she responds. “I’d rather wait tables, than do that. I’ve worked very hard not to be my sister, who’s practically my daddy’s handmaid.” Teddy replies, “Your sister is going to take over the damn family business. When he dies, she’s going to be the most powerful woman in the state.”

Mike’s Take: As someone who doesn’t like to depend on other people for money, I’m siding with Rayna on this one. I think there are situations where you can set aside your ego and graciously accept help from people who genuinely care about you, but Rayna’s father is the sort who only lends out money with strings attached to them, and forget that. The best thing about earning your own money and paying your own bills is that nobody can tell you what you can or cannot do with your money or your life.

I also think it’s interesting that Teddy’s advice to Rayna is to borrow money from her wealthy father, instead of coming up with a plan to cut their expenses, liquidate their assets, or downsize their home, although I get that rich people like to keep up appearances. Also, Rayna’s being a little hard on her sister, right?

Logan’s Take: Her dad is scary. That’s like borrowing money from the mob. So I’m with Rayna. Although I do love Teddy’s instinct to do the easiest thing. BEEN THERE.

Scenario Four: Juliette Barnes approaches Deacon Clayborne in a parking lot outside The Bluebird, a popular music club where musicians often come to play their music. She’s impressed by Deacon’s talent and offers him double whatever Rayna is paying him to work on her tour. “I can’t do that to Rayna,” he says.

Mike’s Take: Oh, to have someone love you so much that he or she is willing to give up lucrative career options to stand by you. Except, Rayna’s married with two children and Deacon is still clearly and openly still in love with her, which is problematic, even if it offers a nice little love triangle for the show.

In real life, this is called poaching. Once you’ve become the sort of person that other companies want to woo and poach, you know you’ve made it. But it’s still a tough decision—especially if you really love your job. Would you leave a job you love and that paid you decently if another company offered you double to quit and join them? It would all depend on the circumstances, of course. Money is only part of the equation of having a career you’re happy with.

Logan’s Take: Love > money, now and forever (syke, spoiler alert).

Scenario Five: Juliette Barnes is crying in a broom closet. Her mother is on the phone asking her to give her money, which Juliette suspects is for drugs. “You’re using, I can hear it in your voice,” she says, and hangs up.

Mike’s Take: I’m always siding with Tami Taylor, AKA Rayna Jaymes while watching Nashville, but I sympathize a lot with Juliette in this situation. Well not exactly, because my parents are drug-free, but I understand how difficult it is to say no when a family member asks you for money. Juliette’s obviously doing the correct thing by not giving money to someone who will use it on drugs. Maybe she’s tried this offscreen, but if I were Juliette I would say, “Yes, you can totally have some of my money! As long as you check yourself into a rehab program and get some help.” Of course, I know it’s not as easy as that. There’s a lot of denial involved, and she’s not suddenly going to be like, “okay!,” and check herself into the Betty Ford Center.

Logan’s Take: I liked this scene because it showed that Juliette was going to be a Real Person rather than just the Hot Young Nemesis. But also yes, it seems like she should have been able to pay some amount of money to Make That Problem Go Away. That sounds like murder. I don’t mean murder. I mean … sending the mama to go somewhere safe. I WONDER WHAT WILL HAPPEN.

Doree Shafrir has written a really well done and somewhat terrifying piece about night terrors.
She describes some her own night terrors—times that, while sleeping, she was sure her dream was reality:
• “They are monitoring my breathing. If I don’t hold my breath and stay completely still, I am going to die. I am not allowed to move at all, or they will know, and they will kill me.”

• “The walls and ceiling and floor are all slowly closing in on me, compressing, so that I will suffocate if I don’t escape.

• “The ceiling is about to cave in on top of me and I will be crushed to death.”

And alongside those nightmares, is this terror, which I vote most likely to still be a thing when you wakeup:
“I need $5,000. I need $5,000 so desperately that if I don’t get it, I’m going to die, and I wake up screaming that I need money.”

I helped a friend write a cover letter. I got stuck on one line.

• P.S. In response to your request for salary requirements, I’d like to wait until I have a better understanding of the position and its demands before specifying a number. Thank you for understanding.

• P.S. In response to your request for salary requirements, my salary requirement is between $30,000 and $35,000, which I suppose just means: $30,000.

• P.S. In response to you request for salary requirements, actually, yeah, I would take $29,000.

• P.S. In response to your request for salary requirements, I can’t possibly say until I know if my therapist is in-network on your insurance plan.

• P.S. In response to your request for salary requirements, I am familiar with median and mean salaries for similar positions in this region, and I believe we’ll be able to come up with a mutually satisfying number. (Also, I would love to use my research skills to assist your excellent organization.)

• P.S. In response to your request for salary requirements, the minimum I need to pay my bills is $14,852. I would like more than that, but if you paid me that, I could live. This is after taxes by the way, so if you could figure out the math on your end, that’d be great.

• P.S. In response to your request for salary requirements, are you really going to decide whether to interview me or not based on what I write here? Really? Is it really possible that my perfectly-matched resume and carefully written cover letter will mean nothing if I ask for too much money here?

• P.S. In response to your request for salary requirements, no.

• P.S. In response to your request for salary requirements, it’s a buyer’s market, I’ve heard.

• P.S. In response to your request for salary requirements, you could offer me whatever you want to, and I’ll take it, and you knowww itttttt.

• P.S. In response to your request for salary requirements, is this the part where I say I want this job so bad I’ll be an unpaid intern? Because I want this job so bad I’ll be an unpaid intern. Will work for snacks.

• P.S. In response to your request for salary requirements, why are you asking me this you already know exactly what you’re willing to pay it’s hard enough out here without these mind games I hate you I hate you I hate you.

Mitt Romney—how rich is he, really? The answer to that question can be found in these three graphs comparing his wealth to that of our last five presidents (you know, just normal middle-class dudes). No comparison, would be how to describe the graphs in two words. Insane, would be how to describe them in one. LOLOLOLOL, would be how to describe them on the internet.

In case you’ve ever wondered how writing for money works, it works like this: Sometimes you have to write about your breasts on the Internet for websites that are not your own. It’s the only way! (It’s the only way.) (I do mention how much I paid for a bra though, so: relevant to our interests.) (Marginally.)

Something is afoot in New Zealand! Four people (at least!) in two weeks received packages from Paris containing HAIRCARE PRODUCTS and CASH. Three people received HAIR DRYERS, and an additional person received a package with HAIR CUTTING SHEERS. Two of the gifts came with identical notes: “Thank you for being a true friend.” The Guardian breathlessly brings us up to date on this truly baffling case.

Theories posited by authorities:

“Maybe they have come from someone who won the lottery over there. Or it could be that it’s a nice prank.”

Also suggested:

In a press conference in Greymouth, police suggested the apparently random acts of long-distance kindness could in fact have been a dry run for a money-laundering or drug-trafficking operation.

Sounds serious! However:

Experts had failed to find any concealed drugs in the parcels.

Well then. At least we can be thankful for this:

It was unlikely to be an elaborate marketing stunt, [Senior Sergeant Allyson Ealam said New Zealand customs and Interpol] said.

INTERPOL IS ON IT. (Also it’s totally going to turn out to be a marketing stunt.) (Either that or an art project.)

W.A.G.E. (Working Artists and the Greater Economy) is an organization that is fighting for minimum payments for artists in NYC.  As part of their work, they surveyed NYC artists about payments they’ve received for exhibiting with non-profits.  Hyperlink has some infographics displaying the results of the survey, but here’s the gist: most artists showing work at non-profits in NYC do not get paid.

Alternatively, Canada has an organization called CARFAC (Canadian Artists Representation/Le Front Des Artistes Canadiens). The organization was founded in 1968 in response to a National Gallery of Canada project that intended to use the works of Canadian artists without providing compensation. The non-profit CARFAC is now the voice of the Canadian artist community. They publish an annual fee schedule, which a list of minimum fees that artists should be paid for the use of their work. 

The schedule is very detailed and slightly complicated to someone (me) who isn’t well-versed in the art world, but this section, outlining payment minimums for a solo show, is a good example of the kind of fees that artists might garner (group exhibitions get much lower fees).

Since payment is guaranteed in Canada and not in the U.S., I wondered why an artist might choose to live here. My roommate Mona Kamal is a Canadian artist living in New York City. I spoke with her briefly about the difference between Canada and the U.S. for artists, and why she chooses to be here.

Logan Sachon: What is it like to be an artist in Canada versus the U.S., as far as compensation?
Mona Kamal: Artists in Canada do get fees for exhibitions in public galleries, and there is a good granting system, but the money that artists receive within this system is small. An artist can live very meagerly with this sum. In the U.S. there isn’t a funding structure like there is in Canada, but the art market is so much larger, the art market allows artists to be able to make a living through selling their work.

What is it that has allowed or encouraged the Canadian system of artist pay versus the U.S. system (which I gather is no system)?
Canada has a long history of government funding for the arts, beginning with the Canada Council forming in the 1960s and then Canadian artists began public galleries called the Artist Run Centre—all these galleries pay artist fees. During this time the CARFAC also started.

Unfortunately the U.S. doesn’t have a government-based funding structure for the arts. They do have the National Endowment for the Arts, but that got heavily cut in the 1990s when Andre Serrano made a piece called “Piss Christ” [You've seen this. It totally outraged Republicans, and Jesse Helms fought to ensure federal dollars never went to fund such filth ever again —LS]. There is little funding in the organization and it has a lot of red tape.

Why, as a working artist do, you choose to be in the U.S. rather than Canada? It seems like there would be better opportunity for pay there, because of CARFAC?
I choose to be in New York, not the U.S. Being here enables me to be exposed to an international art scene that has international artists and curators. This is what opens up a world of opportunity for me as a working artist. There is “pay” for artists in Canada, but it is not enough to sustain yourself. There are more non-profit galleries in New York City than all of Canada. It also is difficult to sell work in Canada, and being paid $1,500 for a solo exhibition isn’t enough to make a living.

You still have healthcare in Canada. Is there an opportunity for you to get healthcare here, as an artist?
I can get health care through teaching (at Parsons), and there is also the Freelancers Union, which I find to be expensive. Healthcare in the U.S. is an entire other issue. It’s a system that’s broken and needs to be fixed, but in my opinion has gotten so bad that I think it’s too late to fix. Even if I had insurance here I would still keep my Canadian Health insurance because it offers me so much more at zero cost. I’m taking a trip to Canada soon just to go have a physical.

What are some ways the working artists you know here supplement their income? (I know you teach …) Are artists in Canada able to spend more time on art, because of the payment system?
I think artists do anything they can to supplement income. Many artists freelance because that way they can choose their schedule. I actually feel like I focus on my art more now than I did in Canada, though this may be because of a change in my attitude and wanting to make more time for my art.

Have you been paid for shows here? 
I think I’ve been paid once, in all the time I’ve been here. Whereas I went to Toronto last month and, because of CARFAC, I was given a stipend for travel and a fee.

Think of big, empty, white room. Imagine a giant pile of money appearing in front of you in that room. What are the first feelings that pop into your head? Excitement? Happiness? An uncontrollable urge to jump up and down and start screaming like a middle school girl at a Taylor Swift concert?

I’m not an expert in psychology or anything like that, but I’m guessing that those emotions fall into the “normal” range of human responses to a windfall. Of course, if you’re like me, you feel nothing other than a strong urge to run the other direction as if that pile of money is actually the alien from The Blob about to eat your mom. Having money is scary. Not having money is scary. Thinking about money is scary. Spending money, the scariest.

Money has elicited feelings of fear in me for as far back as I can remember. One of my early memories is of when I got my first plastic point-and-shoot camera for my fifth or sixth birthday. I don’t remember getting the camera itself. What I remember is getting my first roll of film. Because, dag, Fuji film was expensive. Like, two bucks, at least. 

I pored over the Sunday coupons looking for a deal that would allow me to snag some film for my snazzy new camera at an affordable discount rate, and lo and behold, there was indeed a coupon for ten cents off. I cut it out carefully, folded it into a little square, and put it in my pocket for safekeeping until we went to the Food Lion later that day.

I was a very responsible kid, and my mother had no problems trusting me with the coupon. Except, on that dreaded day, when we got to the checkout lane, the coupon was nowhere to be found! I searched all over the store, back in the car, and everywhere I could think of, but it was gone for good. I cried like a baby. Nasty, dirty, little kid sobbing all over Food Lion. And I was the kind of kid who never cried. Ever.

This may seem like a drastic reaction, but you have to understand: I was completely convinced that my family was going to be destitute because I had lost this coupon. Like, defaulting on our mortgage, living on the street, not being able to afford peanut butter anymore poor. All because of that missing ten-cents-off coupon.

It didn’t get much better as I got older. In middle school, I was in “advanced math,” which meant that I had to have a scientific calculator. You know, one that would allow you to do square roots and exponents and basic trigonometric functions. The kind that you get free now on your computer, but in the 90s cost $9.99 at Staples. This is not to be confused with the actually valuable TI-82s and TI-83s that you’re forced to pay $100 to get in high school (still! Even though you can download a free app on your iPhone now that does the same thing).

When I was taking Algebra I in sixth grade, I lost mine. After spending about a week in complete hysterics and checking my locker after every period hoping it would reappear, I decided I needed to weigh my options. The obvious solution was to tell my mother what happened in the hope that she would take pity on me and get me a new one. The second obvious solution: I could buy a new one myself and pretend I never lost it.

But that piece of plastic was the most expensive item on my back-to-school list. It would have taken more than ten weeks of my allowance to replace it, and I was convinced that asking my mother for the money would require her to get a second job. So I went the duration of middle school without one—lying to my mother about where it was and doing every homework and test problem longhand for three years.

This mental problem persists, despite my efforts to rewire my brian. I got this idea a couple years back while reading Chuck Klosterman’s Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs that I could use video games to cure me.  There’s an essay in the book about The Sims. Klosterman basically believes that The Sims is a grand statement about our capitalist consumer society, because the entire point of the game is to make your little person as happy as possible, and the way you do that is by buying it nice stuff. In Sims world, money = happiness. Since the Army uses video games to train troops and stuff, I thought: why not let The Sims teach me to embrace my hidden love for spending money and being a good consumer? But I wasn’t cured yet, so I bargain shopped for a 99-cent used copy of The Sims 3 for Gameboy Advance on Half.com.

When The Sims 3 came two weeks later in a crumpled envelope from a person in Portland, Oregon, I popped it into my machine and created a cute little person who loved money. Everything started off great. I bought her a bed and a couch, and a bike to ride around town in. She got her own refrigerator, a coffee table, and even some tasteful wall art. But I forgot to get her a lock for her door, so one day when I was out at the virtual bar, someone started stealing her stuff.

The first thing to go was the TV. But really, who needs a TV? I didn’t get her cable, so all she could do was watch FOX and play video games anyway, and video game characters shouldn’t be doing anything too meta. Next to go was the bed. Who steals a bed? Who knows, but it didn’t matter, because she could just sleep on the couch. Over the course of a few days, almost everything in my house was stolen. Even the toilet.

The social norms of consumerism—the very rules I was playing this game to learn—dictate that I should have gotten a lock for my door and then repurchased even nicer stuff that would make my Sim even happier. She was getting tired of that old bathroom stuff anyway. Right?

What I actually did was abandon the house, choosing to become a grifter that wandered around the town popping into random, empty houses whenever I needed to pee or take a shower. All that buying stuff was just getting in the way of me completing the mediocre pseudo-quests built into the game, anyway. I abandoned the game completely,  failing in my mission of becoming a happy consumer. I’m still not there.

Annie Schutte is a school librarian in Washington, DC. Photo: flickr/ Joost J. Bakker IJmuiden