Dave Would Be Pissed: I’m Going To Nigeria
Monday Money Check-in: Oct 23, 2017
So, remember when I backpacked South America for three months, and then I went to Italy for a week last month, and then I was like No. More. Traveling.?
Um, so yeah, then I got this invitation.
I wrote about this Art Fair in Nigeria last year and all these artists changing the face of contemporary African art. It made me totally want to go. This week, one of the galleries invited me to be their guest to this year’s fair, November 3rd. They would buy my flight, hotel, and entry into this three-day event featuring artists from all over Africa. I would just need to get my visa, and I could have a 12-day trip that could totally lead me on the path toward becoming the lady Anthony Bourdain I’ve always wanted to be.
You know I said yes. After making sure the people were legit, checking it with my editors, and having a talk with Security Sue (aka my sister, a real-life bodyguard), I decided to go. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I know that might just sound like another excuse. I might just be another excuse. But this is me. I can’t not go on an adventure like this, when adventures like this are what I’ve been working for years to earn.
That was 10 a.m. on Thursday that I decided. Then I had the rest of the day to make a trip to Nigeria work out in less than 2 weeks. I was meeting my friend Ryan, yoga teacher/real estate agent extraordinaire for a work date, and I ran over to Solstice Cafe without eating at home first (frugal fail.) I got a vanilla latte, because I’m scared the staff is going to start to hate me for being the “mint tea, aka cheapest thing on the menu, then two hours later more hot water please” girl. (Caring what people think, another frugal fail.) I bought Ryan’s coffee, because he said he had to run to the store to get a condolence card and it felt like the least I could do to help with whatever was going on. ($10)
But I had $700 in my account, so ring-a-ding-ding! I’m rich bitch.
I started looking into Nigerian visas, which other travel writers online warned me could take up to a month. I found an expediting service, and realized it would be $370 to get it on time. But ugh, I don’t know, I just did it. Because $370 for a trip to Africa, not bad, right?
I was all hopped up on lattes and adreneline. It had all the internal feeling of a terrible financial decision: pressure to decide right now, things being more expensive than I thought, and that manic feeling. Before pulling the trigger, I said, “Ok Ryan, can I talk this out?” He closed his laptop and looked at me. “All right, I’m betting a few hundred dollars that this trip is going to go through and it will be amazing.”
“Paulette, this is why we have to make more money. You should not be freaking out like this for a few hundred dollars. That’s nothing,” he said. “We can’t live like this anymore!”
He convinced me to ask my guests to pay for half of the visa, so I called them from outside, and they agreed. Score.
I talked with the visa expediting service, placed my order, and had my own personal account manager making sure my visa would get in on time, even though, at the end of the day, they have to rely on the government of Nigeria, so there are still no guarantees.
I had the hunger shakes by then, so I went and got the cheapest healthy thing on the menu, a half kale caesar salad, add avocado (not to be a millennial, but just so it would take.) ($10)
Then, going through the checklist, I saw that the $370 did not include the actual visa, but just the expediting service, and the visa itself would be another $180. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck. (Not paying attention to details and getting all the information before deciding, another common Paulette frugal fail.)
But I was in too deep! I could have just let the $370 go and said nope, not doing it, but the sunk cost fallacy made me feel like that was impossible. And yes, I still want to go.
I stress-ate a raspberry scope while I mulled it over. ($4)
Shoving off all work I was supposed to do that day, (from which I would have made $100 at least), I handled the letter of invitation I had to get from my host, the itinerary, and, when they required that I show financial proof of being able to afford the trip, I took a screen shot of my Fuck Off Fund, now a sad little $2,000. They required statements of the last few months, so I had to look at all the $1,000 transfers out, and Photoshop out the memos, notes to self that said things like, “You suck.”
Then I ran to get my passport photos ($10), printed everything at FedEx ($10), and overnighted the documents ($45). The whole time, it had the feeling of a secret. I just had this internal knowledge, the way you do in dreams sometimes. This knowledge was that I wouldn’t tell anyone about this. It would be a secret, because what I was doing was bad, I shouldn’t be doing it, and Dave Ramsey would be pissed.
But no, I told myself, you have to write about this. Just be your dumpster-fire self.
By the end of the day, I had $4 in my bank account. Four fucking dollars.
A reminder popped up from T-Mobile that they were having a little trouble with my autopayment, which makes sense. I jokingly tweeted to them about it, and they tweeted back. Ha! What a time to be alive.
I wrote a strongly worded email to the people in Australia who owe me $3,000, which I invoiced five months ago. My poor editor is really trying to make it happen, and she responded that it was “outrageous” that I hadn’t been paid yet. I enjoyed that word being used on my behalf. If the money comes this week, I’ll make it. If it doesn’t, it will be another transfer from the Fuck Off Fund, which is really dying now.
Also, the $238 that I paid to my friend got sent back to me because she didn’t accept it in Venmo on time, and now I must use it for malaria meds.
But a deeper part of me knows I will forget all this, the same way I forgot what a logistical and financial nightmare it was to go to Peace Corps. What will remain, as long as nothing terrible happens, are the memories of that time I took that wild trip to Nigeria, when I… [I’ll have to let life fill in the blanks here.]
Shit, this is who I am.
Listening to Dave on my way to work…
Weekly check-in:
Personal Checking Balance: $0
Business Checking Balance: $4
Discretionary spending this week: $577
Fuck Off Fund Level: $2,044 (More like a Please Reconsider Your Actions Fund)
Weekly wins: Fought harder for my payment.
