What is high finance? Is it what is depicted in the movie "Wall Street"? The president reporting to the nation on the complexities of the new tax bill? Donald Trump putting together a complicated real estate deal in New York City?
Or is it six women settling up the check after a $33.84 restaurant luncheon?
I often hang out with a group of female friends from my school days. The subject of money invariably emerges whenever we get together. Negotiations are begun, haggling continues, a deal is struck, money changes hands and all involved are satisfied that a
fair compromise has been attained.
Isn't this what goes on in the board rooms of the corporations of America?
The only difference is they may be dealing with $20 million and we are negotiating the fate of something under a $20 bill, small but coveted hunks of money usually acquired at grocery stores when the check written exceeds the tab total because it is an odd amount.
Who wants to register $37.63 in the checkbook when it's so much neater to subtract $50 and have $12.37 in mad money to pay for Brownie dues, roller skate rental and school lunches?
One of our recent get-togethers was a birthday celebration. We discussed getting a gift (negotiations had begun). After much discussion (the haggling), one of the group had an idea for an appropriate gift, so she became the designated purchaser (the deal was struck), with plans to be reimbursed at the party (money will change hands) and the birthday girl would be delighted (satisfaction all around).
During the course of the event everyone sidled up to the shopper and in a hushed voice - after all, the giftee has to be surprised asked, "What do I owe you'?"
But it is never that simple. First old debts have to be settled and suddenly all secrecy is tossed aside.
I'll be all set up to pay my share, then my friend who did the shopping - we'll call her Gladiola - will say, "Don't pay me because I still owe you for the Girl Scout cookies."
That's right. "But it was only $5," I say.
Petunia, standing checkbook in hand, says, "Why don't I make up the difference because you gave my son money for lunch the other day when you drove car pool."
When Rose attempts to put in her contribution, Iris puts the skids on it: "You don't owe anything."
"She's right," the rest of the bouquet agree. "You brought the cake, so we'll just split the gift cost among the rest of us."
Then I say to Tulip, "Why don't I pay for you because I owe you for that cookbook your daughter's school was selling." "I almost forgot about that," she answers.
"I've got a whole bunch of those cookbooks in the car. Anyone else interested'?"
"That reminds me," Magnolia sings out. "Does anyone want to go to that lecture on money management my investment club is sponsoring? I'm selling tickets."
Because this money back-and-forth has been going on for years, we think about appointing a treasurer who would tabulate who owes how much to whom for gifts. lunches, candy sales, theater tickets, flowers, our kids' walk-a-then pledges, raffle tickets, etc. At the end of the year she would submit statements on how much we were to pay each friend.
It would probably even out and no one would owe anything.
The problem is the recorder's job would be so confusing that she'd only do it if we paid her a salary. That would be OK, as long as we could divide it six ways and it was under $20.
January 27, 1988
Or is it six women settling up the check after a $33.84 restaurant luncheon?
I often hang out with a group of female friends from my school days. The subject of money invariably emerges whenever we get together. Negotiations are begun, haggling continues, a deal is struck, money changes hands and all involved are satisfied that a
fair compromise has been attained.
Isn't this what goes on in the board rooms of the corporations of America?
The only difference is they may be dealing with $20 million and we are negotiating the fate of something under a $20 bill, small but coveted hunks of money usually acquired at grocery stores when the check written exceeds the tab total because it is an odd amount.
Who wants to register $37.63 in the checkbook when it's so much neater to subtract $50 and have $12.37 in mad money to pay for Brownie dues, roller skate rental and school lunches?
One of our recent get-togethers was a birthday celebration. We discussed getting a gift (negotiations had begun). After much discussion (the haggling), one of the group had an idea for an appropriate gift, so she became the designated purchaser (the deal was struck), with plans to be reimbursed at the party (money will change hands) and the birthday girl would be delighted (satisfaction all around).
During the course of the event everyone sidled up to the shopper and in a hushed voice - after all, the giftee has to be surprised asked, "What do I owe you'?"
But it is never that simple. First old debts have to be settled and suddenly all secrecy is tossed aside.
I'll be all set up to pay my share, then my friend who did the shopping - we'll call her Gladiola - will say, "Don't pay me because I still owe you for the Girl Scout cookies."
That's right. "But it was only $5," I say.
Petunia, standing checkbook in hand, says, "Why don't I make up the difference because you gave my son money for lunch the other day when you drove car pool."
When Rose attempts to put in her contribution, Iris puts the skids on it: "You don't owe anything."
"She's right," the rest of the bouquet agree. "You brought the cake, so we'll just split the gift cost among the rest of us."
Then I say to Tulip, "Why don't I pay for you because I owe you for that cookbook your daughter's school was selling." "I almost forgot about that," she answers.
"I've got a whole bunch of those cookbooks in the car. Anyone else interested'?"
"That reminds me," Magnolia sings out. "Does anyone want to go to that lecture on money management my investment club is sponsoring? I'm selling tickets."
Because this money back-and-forth has been going on for years, we think about appointing a treasurer who would tabulate who owes how much to whom for gifts. lunches, candy sales, theater tickets, flowers, our kids' walk-a-then pledges, raffle tickets, etc. At the end of the year she would submit statements on how much we were to pay each friend.
It would probably even out and no one would owe anything.
The problem is the recorder's job would be so confusing that she'd only do it if we paid her a salary. That would be OK, as long as we could divide it six ways and it was under $20.
January 27, 1988
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