After stepping into the MVRHS gymnasium for the Credit for Life fair, I was no longer a reporter at The Martha’s Vineyard Times — I was a marine biologist working at the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution.
Well, at least that’s what my job assignment was for the spending simulation promoted by Cape Cod Five.
With a gross annual salary of $50,350, I figured as long as my spending was frugal, I would have plenty to sock away after circling around to all the different expense booths.
The “Reality Check” wheel was my first stop, and it was a tough start to the experience: I spun the Reality Wheel and landed on green four.
Looking at what appeared to be a giant Game of Life board, I reached for the green car and moved it four spaces.
“A member of your family has an unexpected medical emergency, pay $200.” Easy come, easy go. Reality check is an apt name for that station.
The second stop on my journey through life was the community service booth.
Feeling especially philanthropic, I decided to donate $20 a month to a nonprofit organization, and also volunteered (let’s say at the Houses of Grace winter shelter, for added realism) eight hours per week.
With the donation making such a small dent in my biologist salary, I didn’t think twice about also committing a couple of fictitious hours a day for a good cause.
Next was the savings and retirement booth (one of the most important booths, according to a very informative credit counselor). Here students could choose different mutual funds and retirement plans like an IRA and a 401(k).
I chose to put $125 into a retirement fund, and another $125 into a mutual funds account.
By this point, I was tightening my mock purse strings and preparing for the coming booths.
Some items at the luxury booth seemed more like necessities to me, such as a cell phone plan and regular haircuts. But students could choose a more advanced phone plan with more data and minutes, or opt for professional grooming with fancy shampoo and blow-drying.
Feeling a little more parsimonious after dishing out money for my retirement (hopefully an early one), I decided to go with the basic phone plan, and figured a haircut and some simple grooming would suffice (I opted out of the mani-pedi).
To keep myself entertained, Netflix was my go-to provider for cheesy movies and binge-worthy television shows, although a cable and on-demand package was also an option.
Having lived with six other roommates in college, it seemed like an easy choice to get a house with some roommates instead of forking over a fortune to live by myself. I chose to live with two other roommates, which in the end saved some money on furniture and a lot of money on rent.
While some students were choosing extravagant vehicles as their means of transportation, I kept it simple and stuck to public transportation (I’d rather ride the bus to work every day than have to sleep in my brand-new Aston Martin).
After looking at the savings account register on the back of my spending plan sheet — which I found out about very late in the game — the realization that I was draining my bank account hit me like a ton of bricks.
Time to break out the credit card.
The decision to not buy a car at all ended up working in my favor, as I walked right past the car insurance booth and headed straight for the education and training station.
My degree in marine biology stuck me with $22,000 in student loans (a $300 monthly payment). I could have gone on to get a master’s degree and increase my overall salary in the future, but figured my marine biology experience was already marketable enough here on the Cape and Islands.
The final stretch of booths were more personal, addressing expenses like clothing, nutrition, and health.
Since my metaphorical job would often have me out in the field observing phytoplankton, or in a laboratory studying a newly uncovered species, I figured one set of formalwear would serve the purpose. If a student was assigned a job as a lawyer, they would have to stock their closet with suits and leather loafers; a doctor would get his or her work outfit paid for by the hospital.
Instead of choosing the ramen noodle diet, or the organic Whole Foods option (which was a bit out of my price range), I settled somewhere in the middle, with name-brand foods from the grocery store.
After purchasing health insurance and a gym membership, I was ready to sit down with a credit counselor, who ultimately told me I was doing “not too bad.”
After whittling away at my $3,000 net monthly income, I ended the game with around $500 left.
At least there were no fantasy repo men knocking on my apartment door to clear out my sparsely furnished living room.