My Dad’s tobacco tin and the credit crunch

Many years ago when I was about 10 years old, all my friends had bikes. They all had the best 10 gear racers you could buy. Actually they didn’t but it just felt that they did if you were 10 years old.  I suppose in reality one or two of my friends had a sporty bike and the rest of us had hand me downs, cherished hand me downs but still hand me downs.

After lots of pressure and many nudges the day came when my dad took me out one day to buy a new bike. It wasn’t a new, new bike but it would be new to me. We set off early on Saturday morning in my Dad’s car, loaded down with his plumbing tools which he took everywhere. My Dad was the best plumber in town and could sort a leak out in double quick time. He was always happy to help sort problems and fix up old bathrooms to look brand new for families who couldn’t a afford new suite. My Dad rarely charged new married couples for his work; saying to me “you can’t charge a young couple when they are starting out; when they want central heating they will come back to me”. Whether they did or not I’m not sure but it was his philosophy and he was happy.

Arriving at the bike store I surveyed all the bikes, tires, gears, bells, mud flaps, and stickers with flames on and racing seats that would make you sore for weeks.

Eventually choosing the bike of my dreams we moved to the till to pay for my prize. My Dad took out his old tobacco tin, moved the fresh tobacco to one side and removed the money for the purchase. As he did so bits of tobacco dropped on the floor, the counter, the till and the manager of the shop who looked down his nose at us the whole time. My face was bright red, I was embarrassed for eternity. I was sure everybody in the shop was looking and sniggering at us as we shuffled out the door with my bike and my Dad stuffing his tobacco tin back in his overall pocket.

Outside the shop I let the embarrassment of the moment steal my joy of the new bike. My Dad asked me why I was so sad with my new bike. When I explained through a few tears and red cheeks my Dad gently taught me a big lesson in my life.

He told me that as a plumber he fixed the loos of the rich and the poor. He unblocked the drains of antone who asked for his help.  And they all paid the same way, in cash. He said the cash was the same whether it came from a big pile or a very small pile. So when he got paid he put the cash in his tobacco tin. This way he knew where it was and he knew how much he had. He explained that “If I have the cash in this tin, we can buy it. If I don’t have the cash in this tin, we can’t buy it.” Whilst I sought to promote the value of credit, loans and fancy financial mechanisms, my Dad just kept repeating his mantra that if the cash was in his tin we could buy it, if not we had to wait. He also explained that waiting was a good thing, and that all good things come to those who wait.

That day I didn’t want to wait and I didn’t want to have my Dad showering everybody with tobacco. I wanted the newest bike, the best bike and I wanted my Dad to pay with a credit card or at least a cheque book.

When my Dad passed away many years later, a good man, no debts, no cash in the bank, no fancy car in the drive and in fact no drive to the house, he was respected and owed nobody nothing. All his jobs were done and the most important job of parenting me and my brother and sisters was done very well.

My Dad was never rich; in fact I’m not sure he ever wanted to be rich. But he was rich in his life, his family, his friends and his soul. He lived very simply and was happy.

My shame of that day is now replaced with enormous pride. The bike was fantastic and i was blessed that as well as getting a bike i got a great lesson in life. I rode my bike proud of the fact my Dad paid for it with his cash from his tobacco tin.

I know the world has moved on and I know credit is an integral part of the way we live today. I know I could be much richer today if perhaps I had borrowed more, invested in this or that or the other. I don’t smoke nor do I have a tobacco tin but in my heart and soul I have always had a tobacco tin and lived by the mantra my Dad drilled into me. I know the world can’t live by this rule and commerce would grind to a halt, but I fear that far too many of the people we seek to support were targeted by slippery marketing campaigns, encouraging those with least financial skills to extend themselves into the world of credit. Too much was borrowed by too many who understood too little and where least prepared for the crunch.

And so I am so proud of the work we do every day to help those facing financial difficulties, teaching our clients basic financial skills, supporting people facing legal issues relating to debt and crisis. Improving Peoples Lives will get tough over the next few years as the stories and the pain of our clients gets worse. But thank you for being there and for the work you do everyday to support all of our clients.

Thanks Roy