I don’t know how to say this without sounding obnoxious, but last fall I studied abroad. I’ve always disliked the word abroad. It seems simultaneously antiquated and condescending, probably because it is often uttered by those with shrill voices citing life changing experiences. I hate to refer to the dictionary this early in my column, but definitions describe the term as “dated or humorous.” And dictionaries tend to know what they’re talking about.
I spent three months in Scotland. I flew Aer Lingus and gnawed prepackaged Danishes while watching “The DUFF.” Then I took two courses in English and flew home. I wasn’t sailing the Atlantic in a petticoat. I was simply Elsewhere.
While abroad, I made the mistake of starting a blog, a WordPress praised by boyfriends and grandparents alike. I also made the mistake of spending all of my hard-earned funds within the first six weeks. By November, my bank account had dwindled to $5.60. I know this sounds ambitious, but I assure you, it is more than possible.
The discovery of my bankruptcy was both surprising and inevitable. After I logged onto my Bank of America account, I sobbed for three and a half hours. I may have screamed; I don’t remember. I do remember that my flatmate took the time to write a personalized complaint on our refrigerator to prevent future outbursts.
Upon further calculation, I realized I could spend seven pence a day. That is not very many pence. I don’t mean to depress you with my lack of financial competence. Many of you are currently studying in another country, or will do so soon. If you find yourself in similar circumstances, do not panic. I have accumulated a fail-proof catalog of tested suggestions for staying afloat. Grab a pencil or a tattoo pen and carve this into your hand:
1. Now that you have no money, you cannot buy groceries. You cannot get into dance clubs with sticky floors or order gyros from a chip shop.
2. If necessary, steal toilet paper from Starbucks. Steal toilet paper from the English department. Walk around town with a backpack full of toilet paper.
3. Call home and say things like “fine,” and “huh” and “it’s probably not infected.” Don’t mention the money. Wash your laundry in the shower.
4. Visit Sainsbury’s with a friend named Liam and buy a loaf of cheese bread for 50 p. Yes, you are eating bread again. Feel bad for a second and then remember that you are hungry. Wonder if you are being dramatic.
Say, “This is sort of funny, sort of sad.”
“Yes,” Liam will say. “But mostly sad.”
Chew slowly.
5. Cashless Saturdays will be lonely. Think, what should I do? Decide to go to the gym. At the gym think, what should I do? Walk back to your dorm. In your dorm, take off your shirt and watch “Hell’s Kitchen.”
6. Take two online surveys and earn 30 cents. Apply to be a Research Subject Volunteer by feigning the identity of a diabetic man. Apply for a job. Apply for another job. Talk to a cashier with long painted nails and mimic her mannerisms.
7. Reflect on silly purchases. You paid to go to a sex museum. You paid to go to a sex museum. The internet will tell you to “set short-term financial goals.”
8. Host a Me-Party. Me-Parties are inexpensive and spontaneously fun. All you have to do is show up. Post a half-ironic selfie on Twitter even though you still don’t really understand Twitter. Try not to cry. Crying ruins parties.
9. Floss. Flossing is free, flossing is fun. You should floss more. Clean the blood from the sink before you wash your socks.
10. Your father will give you a bit of money because he is kind and because your blog posts have transitioned from embarrassing to tragic. Take a train going south and stay in a cheap hostel above a medieval bar. Fall asleep to the song from the Swoops commercial. Drink hot chocolate and eat vegan dinners alone even though you love meat. Buy Christmas presents for your parents with the cash they sent you.
11. At the end of the semester, con a ride to the airport. Buy black coffee with your final pence. Sweat a lot. Board the plane and drink free wine until you feel like you’re lying in a sponge cake. Wonder how you will make money next semester. Wonder how you will make money for the rest of your life. Wonder how you will make money if you have six kids or fall down a well. Ask the flight attendant for peanuts and pretzels.
Obviously, these tips may not work for everyone. Just know that if you find yourself in the rain with an empty wallet and the ache of regret, you are not alone. Someone somewhere has just spent her last 40 dollars on pre-workout because she thought it sounded necessary.
Savannah Horton is a member of the Class of 2017.