Talia had exactly $72.13 in her checking account, two and a half rolls of toilet paper, and a fridge that looked like it had been burgled by a very picky raccoon. But she wasn’t worried. Yet.
“I just need to survive until Friday,” she told herself, pulling her third-hand futon mattress over her head to block out the noise from her neighbor’s 3 a.m. tuba practice. “I’ll get paid, buy groceries, and finally stop having dinner that includes both hot sauce and regret.”
Talia was 22, working part-time at Beans & Bards (a coffee shop/bookstore hybrid where baristas were expected to quote poetry with every latte), and convinced that as long as rent was paid, everything else would work itself out. Spoiler: it did not.
The Unexpected Plot Twist (Because Life Is Rude)
It started with a tooth. Specifically, one of Talia’s molars, which had decided it was done with the whole “chewing” thing and cracked mid-bite on a stale granola bar she’d been hoarding since the Obama administration.
The pain was immediate, intense, and terrifyingly expensive.
She called a dentist from the waiting room of urgent care, muffled and drooling.
“Do you take, um, I guess… vibes? Or like… good intentions?”
The receptionist laughed. “We take credit, debit, or insurance.”
Talia had none of those.
And that’s when the existential crisis hit. Because for the first time, it became painfully obvious that you don’t just need money for stuff like hoodies or oat milk lattes. You need money for surprise cavities, emergency tow trucks, and apparently, adult toilet paper that doesn’t feel like sandpaper.
The Reality Slap (a.k.a. Her Tooth Wasn’t the Only Thing Broken)
Later that week, her roommate Jordan—who was somehow always one step ahead of adulting—came home to find Talia on the floor with a calculator, three receipts, a half-eaten protein bar, and a look in her eyes that screamed, I’ve seen things.
“Everything okay?” he asked gently.
“I think I’ve been financially feral,” she said, mouth half-numb from the dollar-store Orajel knockoff. “Why didn’t anyone tell me that to live, like literally survive, you need money for way more than rent and ramen?”
Jordan blinked. “That’s… kind of the plot of capitalism.”
Talia glared. “Well, I missed that memo between Shakespeare quotes and espresso shots.”
The Money Makeover (Kind Of)
That weekend, Talia decided to investigate. She pulled out her journal—decorated with glittery cat stickers from her freshman year—and wrote at the top:
“Why do I need money?”
Her list grew fast:
- Rent (obviously)
- Food (non-regret-flavored)
- Dentist bills (ugh)
- Emergency stuff
- Transportation
- Health insurance (what even IS a deductible??)
- Mental health days that involve chocolate and bubble tea
She started to see money less like something to spend, and more like something that gave her choices, security, and the ability to breathe when life threw curveballs. Like dental ones.
She didn’t become a financial wizard overnight. But she did start tracking her spending with an app that didn’t crash, stopped impulse-buying quirky socks, and set aside a few bucks each week in a “do not touch unless you are literally on fire” savings account.
Talia’s New Philosophy
By the next month, Talia had stopped feeling like life was happening to her and started feeling like she was, ever so slightly, steering the ship. She still made under $20k a year, but her mindset had shifted.
One evening, she stood in line at the coffee shop and heard a college freshman behind her say, “Ugh, I don’t get why we need money for anything besides, like, buying stuff.”
Talia smiled to herself.
“Oh sweet summer child,” she whispered under her breath.
Then she ordered her coffee, paid cash, and silently thanked her emergency fund for being there in case her other molar decided to revolt.
Final Thought:
So, why do we need money?
Because life doesn’t just ask for a down payment on your dreams. It charges interest on your mistakes.
But hey, with a little planning and the right mindset, you can afford both the taco and the dental copay.
