The Unemployed Life

Out on the Street: Sushi is a Privilege

Each week, “Joe the Trader” chronicles his experiences with life after Wall Street.

As I was watching Federer dismantle Safin in the Australian Open on television in January, my 10-year-old daughter sighed.

“Oh Daddy, I guess since you don’t have a job we won’t be able to go to the US Open this year. I sure hope you get one soon because that was fun.”

She was referring to the weekend I was able to bring my three children and girlfriend to a luxury box, courtesy of Royal Bank of Client Entertainment. While my lady and I drank Veuve Clicquot and enjoyed watching Rafa and Venus play, the kids focused on finishing their Ben & Jerry’s ice cream bars before they melted in the late summer sun. Yes dear, it was a bit of alright. For now, no more US Open, no more Yankees tickets, no more ski conferences. I sure hope I get a job soon too.

Yet I also realize how out of hand the lifestyle creep had become. For many people, what used to be luxury had become everyday. In fact, new words had to be developed in order to describe the top of the socio-economic strata—the top echelon was no longer upper class or rich, but hyper-rich. In our household, it was routine to buy the $25-per-pound Montgomery Cheddar instead of Cracker Barrel. And while I was never close to being hype-rich, I am as guilty as the next person for letting lifestyle creep enter into my children’s lives. They had gotten used to ski trips to Colorado each February; against his better judgment, Santa succumbed to pleas and gave my daughter an iPod Nano for Christmas. But even when things were flush, I was concerned about the messages being sent to my children about material goods. They were enjoying privileges at such a young age that I wondered if they appreciate them.

Soon after I lost my job I had dinner with my kids at their mom’s house and decided to break the news. To the boys, who are eight and five, my unemployment didn’t really resonate that much. As long as I didn’t seemed troubled, they were cool. They were more curious about the changes in my life.

“What are you going to do ALL day now, Dad?” asked Liam—as though he had any idea how my time was spent when I did have a job.

My daughter, on the other hand, is a worrier by nature. “But you told me you weren’t going to be fired?” she said.

“Well, I didn’t think I was going to. But that’s why I have saved money over the years. So we’ll be ok,” I said. I couldn’t hold it back: “And Emily, I wasn’t fired. The bank just doesn’t want do the business that I do anymore.”

“We aren’t going to have our home foreclosed or take in renters like in Kit Kitteridge, are we?” (For those who are not parents of young girls. Kit Kitteridge is an American Girl movie set during the Great Depression. And it is actually quite a nice story with some good old-fashioned family values.)

“No darling,” I said. Then hedged. “I don’t think so.”

After reassuring the kids that their day-to-day reality would remain unchanged, I moved on to explaining that there would be a few changes—namely, cutting back on luxuries, which they understood. I think.

Although the initial conversation about our family’s economic situation went smoothly, the aftermath has been confusing for my kids. Not only is the concept of financial security well beyond their comprehension, but they get mixed messages from the adults in their lives.

Despite generally increased frugality, the kids have still enjoyed the benefit of travel and vacations. Recently, my lady and I were going to San Francisco for a wedding and I thought it would be nice to bring my daughter along as well. I have free time now and thought it would be a wonderful opportunity to spend some special time with her, and it was. I had enough airline miles to get us all out for free. And while the marginal cost to bring Emily along was small, I wonder what she thought about the cost of the trip—if at all.

On the other hand, she was forced to think about the cost of the vacation to Mexico that her mother had planned when my mother, a product of less opulent times, sniped, “Doesn’t your mother know it’s a recession?” So somehow, it’s okay to go to California but not to Mexico.

My friends are wrestling with the same issues. Two of the other members of the He-Man’s Unemployment are fathers as well. Two weeks ago, TJ, who has two young children and another on the way,  asked what the going rate was for the tooth fairy. He and his wife had differences earlier in the week.

“$1 full stop,” I said.

“That’s what I thought, but my wife gave him $5.”

“Five bucks! Are you kidding me? Your boy would have been happier with three quarters because he would have had three coins instead one bill—that’s nuts.”

“Small potatoes my friends,” interrupted Hal, whose kids are older. “ My son is choosing between a SUNY school and a private liberal arts college. The tuition difference is about $25,000. I told him I would split the savings with him if he chooses SUNY.”

“Does he realize what it would be like to have $12,000 in his pocket as freshman?” I asked, remembering the days when $5 could sustain me for an evening of partying.

“He’s not sure, but it’s his choice and education is the last thing I will skimp on.”

More recently, the kids were staying with me in Brooklyn and we were discussing dinner. I offered up pasta, which is when the whining started.

“But dad…we had pasta last night!” my eight-year-old, complained.

“ I hate pasta,” declared my five-year-old son.

“Dad, lets get sushi,” Emily suggested.

“Yeah! Sushi, sushi, sushi!” the boys chimed in together.

Throughout the flush years, I thought it was great that my kids liked sushi. When my daughter would announce to my parents’ friends that her favorite food was dragon roll, I swelled with pride over the adventurous palates of my cosmo-kinder. Now I wish they had a taste for PBJs only.

“Sushi is a privilege, not a right,” I snapped back.

Next week, the kids will be spending spring break with me in New York, and we will be sure to take full advantage of the museums and any other free activities. Any suggestions?

Joe the Trader spent 11 years as a proprietary trader at a major U.S. bank. He has three children and currently lives in Brooklyn. You can read more of his columns here.

Tags: family, Out on the Street, Spending and Saving, The Unemployed Life, Wall Street