Asher Sisneros

In this assignment, I have to write 250 words and break-down the sacrifices I would have to make to save 10% of my income. The only issue is, I already do that. In fact, I do the reverse. Instead of saving ten percent and spending ninety, I save ninety and spend ten. I started this habit a couple of years ago. There have been exceptions here and there for my business, but I have been religious with limiting recreational spending.

So, instead of writing 250 words on how I could hypothetically save 10%, I will write the story about how I started saving 80-90% of my money.

First, I will dissect my madness and explain how I started saving so much. It started back when I was twelve or thirteen. All I thought about was how I could get my grubby hands on the new airsoft gun. I would scheme through all the different ways I could convince my dad to let me buy it. Historically, I could persuade him if it was my birthday or a special occasion, but Christmas was too far away. My dad would just try to convince me I would regret buying a hundred dollar toy when I got older. In a couple of years, I would move on to something else. Instead, he advised me to save my money. After years, I could look back on my fat stack of cash with pride, and buy something meaningful, like a car. I hated this idea. My reasoning argued that I was a kid and saving was for adults. However, at a certain point, I developed a flawless, absolutely perfect plan. Seeing as how my dad was a salesman, my sales pitch had to be exquisite. He would have to see how my solution would satisfy both of our desires; how I could get that airsoft gun while also saving money. Instead of us running through the numbers, examining my financial situation and evaluating the reward potential of my desired purchase, what if I could only spend 10% of my income? Then, anytime I wanted to buy something, I would pull out my get-out-of-jail-free-card “hey dad, it’s from my spending jar.” Impressed by my proposition, he agreed. Little did he know this was all part of my plan and I had an ace up my sleeve. It was at this moment that I realized I had won. I finally outsmarted the old man at his own game. I was a genius.

Except as the weeks went by, I realized the flaw in my plan; I only requested 10% of my income. Ten percent! As in one tenth. I seriously under negotiated. The worst part was, I got exactly what I wanted. As I started scheming in my head, I realized it would be an eternity until I could buy that airsoft gun. Yes, an eternity. The universe would end before I bought that airsoft gun. I crushed my own dreams. In this story, I am both the hero and the antagonist; the villain and victim. My purpose in life had been shattered. Life was hopeless.

No, just kidding. This isn’t that kind of story. Instead of quitting, I set my eyes on the impossible. No matter how long it would take, I would buy that airsoft gun. After two years, I finally had enough saved up. I was ecstatic. The day of rejoicing had finally come! I was a winner! Triumphantly, I went online and placed the order. It would be a week until my gun arrived, but that didn’t matter. Because of my excitement, the time would pass quickly. Sure enough, later that week as I waited patiently sitting down on the living room floor, shoving popcorn up my pie-hole with anticipation, there was a knock at the door. I got up quickly and my short, stubby Mexican legs darted for the door. Even my siblings who had no interest in airsoft were looking forward to this momentous, monumental occasion. For some of them, I had been wanting this airsoft gun for half their lives! I opened the door and there, old glory stood wrapped up in cardboard. Trying to make this momentous, monumental occasion last as long as possible, I picked up the box slowly. I sat down on the floor with the box in my lap and scissors in my hand. My siblings huddled around me as I cut through the tape and opened the box. I lifted the airsoft gun out of those soft white packing peanuts slowly for added suspense. This was something I always did, because suspense made everything more epic. And then there she was; pure dreams sitting in my hands. I put some BBs inside the airsoft gun and took her outside for a test fire. It was fun. Fun. This piece of infantile machinery, the toy of my dreams, was simply fun. Not super fun, but just fun. I put the toy inside my closet and there it would stay for the next year, mostly untouched.

Even though I had fulfilled my “dream”, looking back at my accumulated savings was cooler. After two years of owning the replica gun, I lost interest in airsoft (as Dad said I would) and re-sold the gun on eBay. So in the end, Dad was right.

The morals of this story are simple: Save your money, and listen to your parents because they probably know a thing or two.