Should you sell your stocks now?

‍ ‍We were somewhere over Malaysia, wedged into economy with four kids, when the fighting started.

It was hot. It was cramped. And the chicken satay I’d wolfed down in Singapore was staging a violent protest somewhere south of my belt buckle.

“Just shut up, the lot of you”, I thundered.

My five-year-old burst into tears. “Daddy said the F-word!”

“Shut up is not an F-word”, I protested.

“We don’t speak like that in our house”, he sobbed, like he was reading me my rights.

Liz just glared at me.

We were on our way to Cambodia. I figured the trip would teach my kids a thing or two about how good they’ve got it back home.

Little did I know the biggest lesson was waiting for me.

But it wasn’t some big temple or ancient ruin that did the teaching. It started three months before we even landed in the country.

A mother gave birth to a little baby boy.

She placed him in a plastic bag. Then she tied it shut and, for reasons only she will ever know, tossed him onto a rubbish pile to die.

Yet he wouldn’t die.

This tiny baby, only a few days old, no bigger than a footy, screamed through the plastic and the garbage until a rice farmer walking past heard him.

Now, this farmer had nothing. Dirt floor, hungry kids of his own, crops that barely fed his family. But he still took that baby home, and he and his wife fed him and held him for three weeks, until they simply couldn’t anymore.

So they carried him to a hospital and prayed someone could give him the life they couldn’t.

That someone was Geraldine Cox, an Aussie expat in her eighties who has spent the last 33 years running Sunrise Cambodia, an orphanage for kids nobody else wants. The kids call her Big Mumma.

My wife did a story on the place years ago for the 7pm Project and has sponsored a kid ever since. When we said we were coming, Geraldine invited us out.

As we arrived, my kids bolted off to play soccer with the Sunrise kids. Geraldine showed us around.

Walking into the nursery, I noticed a woman cradling a little baby.

I looked closer. The baby was staring straight at me.

‍It was the little baby in the bag.

His nickname is Sok, which means strong in Khmer. (Sunrise later gave him a proper name, which for his privacy I won’t share.)

And he is strong. He’s a fighter. After all, by rights, he shouldn’t be here. There is no trace of his parents. No birth certificate. No record he was ever born. No past for this boy in a bag.

So what becomes of him? What’s his story going to be?

That his mother wanted him dead?

No.

His story will be that, amid all the cruelty of this world, there are kind, caring people everywhere.

Like that dirt-poor farmer who pulled him out with his bare hands.

Like Big Mumma.

Like me.

And like you.

I’ve made a donation to help cover Sok’s costs, which are around eight grand a year (Sunrise gets no government funding – it all comes from donors).

Look, everyone has a lot of bills, too much work, and not enough time. But if you’ve got a Give Jar, consider sending a few dollars to Sunrise Cambodia. It’s tax deductible, and you can ask them to direct it towards Sok if you like. Every dollar makes a real difference.

You see, one day Sok will learn his story. But it won’t just be about a plastic bag. It will be about thousands of ordinary people on the other side of the world who decided this little fighter was worth fighting for.

Here’s the link: www.sunrisecambodia.org.au/donate

Tread Your Own Path!

---

Your Questions & Answers

• Billionaire’s WARNING: I’m SELLING. The Crash Is Already Here! 

• My Heartbroken Son

---

‍Billionaire’s WARNING: I’m SELLING. The Crash Is Already Here!

Hi Scott,

I’d love your thoughts on billionaire investor Jeremy Grantham’s interview on Diary of a CEO this week. He reckons you should get out of US stocks and into emerging markets and bonds. He manages $78 billion, so he seems to know a thing or two, and his arguments sound logical. Is it time to move my super and share portfolio out of Aussie and US index funds? I’m 42 and want the best bang for my buck over the next 20 to 30 years.

James

Hey James,

I watched the interview ... and felt kind of dirty by the end of it.

Grantham believes the US market is wildly overvalued, crypto is mostly worthless, and the AI boom smells a lot like the dot-com bubble wearing a chatbot costume. I agree with a fair bit of what he says.

So why did I feel dirty?

Years ago I put a ring on my share portfolio. I made a vow to stick with it through the good times and the bad. History shows shares deliver the best long-term returns of all investments, even though they scare the living daylights out of you sometimes.

Every crash has eventually been followed by new highs. So I keep a few months’ cash in the bank and accept that happily ever after only exists in fairy tales. 

Good investments (like good marriages) go sideways sometimes. Stick around long enough and they compound into something that changes your life.

That podcast felt like the financial version of a married bloke on Tinder. The whole thing is designed to make you restless and think “Maybe I should ditch my boring old index funds for some sexy emerging markets”. Heck, the episode is literally called: “Billionaire’s WARNING: I’m SELLING. The Crash Is Already Here!”

That’s a rubbish way to invest your money.

You don’t throw away a solid relationship because some hot selfie on the internet looks like a better trade. You remember why you committed in the first place.

Now, Grantham might be right. The market could crash next week. But to make money from that, you’ve got to be right twice. First, you’ve got to sell before everyone else. Then you’ve got to decide when the coast is clear and buy back in.

Even Grantham has struggled with this. He’s been calling the US market a bubble since 2021. Meanwhile the market has climbed over 100 percent higher.

James, at 42 you’ve got your greatest advantage: time. Decades of pay packets ahead of you. Every market wobble is a chance for those dollars to buy more shares and compound.

My advice?

Stay married to your diversified share portfolio. Keep some cash aside so a crash never forces you to sell. And stay off the spicy dating apps.

---

My Heartbroken Son

Scott,

My 20-year-old son signed a 12-month lease with his high school girlfriend, against my gentle judgment. Four months in, she broke up with him via text as he drove to work at 6am. Now she’s out looking at new rentals, and he’s left with $600-a-week rent he can’t possibly afford on a part-time student’s wage. I’m offering support and advice, but he’s reluctant to act. Short of handing over cash, what’s the best way to help my son through this?

Concerned Mum

Hey Concerned Mum,

Right now your son is heartbroken. Humiliated. And broke.

He’s also 20.

Which makes this the cheapest life lesson he’ll ever buy ... but only if you let him buy it.

So here’s my advice, and you probably won't like it: Don't fix it for him.

Don’t hand over cash. And definitely don’t move him back into his childhood bedroom. That teaches him that whenever adult life kicks him in the guts Mum will always make it better.

The truth is he’s in a stronger spot than he realises. His ex is still legally on that lease, text-message break-up or not. Her name is stuck there, same as his.

That gives him three options: they break the lease together (in this market it might only sting for a few weeks’ rent plus advertising), they find a new tenant to take over, or he gets a mate to move in and cover her share.

Your job isn’t to rescue him. It’s to point him at the tools. Tell him to ring the tenants’ union in your state (it’s free). Warn him not to go quiet and stop paying the rent, or he’ll end up on a tenancy blacklist that follows him for years.

Then step back and let the learning begin.

One day, in 15 years’ time, he’ll be telling this story at a barbecue. You’re deciding right now how that story ends: the time he sorted out his own mess at 20, or the time Mum rode in and saved him.

Thanks for reading,

Scott.

Dating an Orange Narcissist

An old mate of mine turned up to the farm with a baseball cap on.

It wasn’t sunny.

As we shook hands I noticed his head was bandaged.

“What have you done to your head, cobber?” I asked, concerned for his wellbeing.

“I’ve just had a surgical procedure,” he said. “Grafts.”

I had no idea what that meant.

But apparently, a surgeon yanked the hair from his rump then sewed it into his noggin, like a seed. And then my mate spent the next few weeks watering it with enough worm juice so that hopefully a few bum hairs would sprout.

Or something like that.

“How much did this hair-raising procedure cost you?” I asked.

“Forty grand,” he said sheepishly.

“No,” I gasped.

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughed.

Now my mate paid for this out of the savings in his Smile bucket.

But if you're missing both your hair and your savings, help is at hand:

“Thinking about a hair transplant but the cost is holding you back? You may be able to access your superannuation on compassionate grounds to fund your treatment…”

Check this Facebook ad out:

Huh?

In 2024, Australians lodged more than 90,000 applications to raid their super early on compassionate grounds. Over a billion dollars was released, mostly for medical costs. Authorities are now calling out businesses that push people toward overly expensive or unnecessary treatments funded by their retirement savings.

And some of those treatments include hair transplants.

Apparently this now falls under ‘mental health’.

Right.

Getting bum fluff sewn into your head and calling it a mental health necessity is a stretch.

But think about what happens when these blokes are old and grey and finally do the maths. Factor in the tax on early withdrawal and decades of lost compound interest, and that $40,000 procedure can quietly turn into a $200,000 mistake.

All for something that, in most cases, is optional.

My mate can afford it. Plenty of people can’t.

And they’re the ones being sold.

One day they’ll stop working. One day they’ll have to start living off what’s left. And if they’ve been dipping into it early, that moment will arrive with less than they thought.

It’s enough to make you tear your hair out!

Tread Your Own Path!

P.S. We're heading into the school holidays, so I'll catch you in a couple of weeks!

---

Your Questions & Answers

• Dating an Orange Narcissist 

• Am I Really the Bad Guy?

• I Spent $800 on takeout food 

---

Dating an Orange Narcissist

Hi Scott,

A lot of us Barefooters signed up to ING back in the day for the free banking and the good rates. Now I'm reading they've rolled out a paid subscription model overseas, up to $75 a month for the bells and whistles, and Australia's apparently on the list. If ING goes down that road, where are we all supposed to go?

Daniel

Hi Daniel,

I rang up ING (admittedly when I was at the boozer).

"We're not doing it this year," the employee assured me.

So next year then.

After all, the big boss in Europe gave an interview to Bloomberg under the headline: "ING introduces subscription model to lift fee income." It also confirmed our little penal colony was on the list for the gouging.

"He said the quiet bit out loud ... that makes your job hard," I said.

"Uh, yes, it does," he said.

My view?

Banking is a lot like dating a narcissist.

When you first hook up they're all lovey dovey, and low-maintenance:

No bank fees! No ATM fees! High savings rates!

Then they get comfy. And slowly the hoops appear:

"Show me your pay packet if you want a good rate."

"Don't you dare touch your own savings, or my interest in you will... vanish."

They treat you worse every year ... putting out less and less, betting you're too busy to leave.

So where to next?

Well, I had a brief affair with UP, yet they ended up jerking me around as well.

My business banking is with a credit union, but that's kind of like listening to music on a walkman. It's financial virtue signalling, and mostly impractical.

Personally, I'm not playing banking Tinder, swiping right on every outfit that flirts with an extra 0.7%, knowing full well it disappears the second the honeymoon ends.

My view?

ING are not the sweetheart they were when I first wrote my book, but they're no Big Four either.

A subscription fee to hold my money though?

That'll be the day I tell them to pack their bags.

---

Am I Really the Bad Guy?

Hi Scott,

Both my parents have passed away and I'm inheriting the family home 50/50 with my sister. Neither of us plans to live there. She wants to keep it for sentimental reasons. I want to sell. It's a large acreage with an older house. Mowing, weeds, rodents, the works. And I can't stomach an empty house when people in our community are desperate for somewhere to live. My sister wants to buy me out via a long-term payment plan. But she's already said "you don't really need the money anyway," refused any discussion about terms, and forbidden me from asking about her finances. I've suggested she borrow from a bank instead. She thinks I'm being unreasonable. I'm yet to start a family and this money matters. Why does wanting my fair share make me the bad guy?

Tim

Hey Tim,

Your sister is grieving the loss of your parents, and right now that's guiding her decision to keep the joint.

You also said you're 'about to inherit the home' which tells me it's still pretty raw.

This is what happens mate! It's a totally understandable reaction.

So what can you do?

Give her some time. (You've got two years from the date of death before Capital Gains Tax kicks in.)

The reality of maintaining an acreage property is a pain in the toosh, and expensive as hell. So give it six months.

At the same time I'd find a way to honour your parents and your family. Maybe it's starting a new tradition, a yearly long weekend retreat that the entire family goes on. Or perhaps it's a donation in their name.

My wife's late father was a teacher. Each year she and her brother go back to his old high school and present a prize to a student in his name. It's sentimental, meaningful and hopeful all wrapped up in one night.

Better yet, ask her for some ideas.

You're not the bad guy. You're her brother, and with a little support you can help her with her grief, and help her use the money to honour them. That's the legacy they'd be proud of.

---

I Spent $800 on takeout food

Scott,

In 2021 a friend recommended your book to me. I was in a bad place, in a relationship that was incredibly abusive, emotionally and financially. I read it that Christmas and went through my spending. I was spending $800 a week on takeout because my cooking was "too shitty" for him to eat. After I'd worked a full day and he'd spent it gaming because "no one is hiring babe."

That was a devastating wake-up call. I restructured my spending and started saving. By the end of 2022 I was free. Tonight I got my end of financial year bonus. I've officially hit my 20% deposit goal, Scott. I can buy a home. I am happy crying right now. I have six months of expenses saved, a healthy ETF account, and I am free.

Sara

Hey Sara,

Hallelujah!

There is so much doom and gloom right now.

The government. Capital gains tax. The cost of living. All very real speed bumps. Yet the algorithm of outrage makes them feel like dead ends.

Not you, Sara.

You were in a genuinely awful situation. A bloke who wouldn't eat your cooking and wouldn't get a job.

Yet instead of staying stuck, you opened a book, set up some buckets, and followed the plan.

Year one you sorted yourself out.

Year two you walked out the door.

Year five you're happy crying over a deposit.

That is its own special kind of compounding.

I've answered thousands of letters over the years. What I've found is it takes most people about 12 months to sort themselves out, and around six years to become financially bulletproof.

Not many people follow a plan for five years. But the ones who do get moments like this.

A home deposit. Six months of expenses in the bank. An investment portfolio ticking away in the background. And something far more valuable than all of them:

Freedom. Well done. Enjoy tonight. You’ve earnt it.

Thanks for reading,

Scott

The Billionaire versus Barefoot

“Third!” I yelled.

My eight-year-old daughter was riding shotgun. She didn’t miss a beat. She leaned over and confidently moved us into third gear. All the while grinning from ear to ear.

And why not?

She’d mastered a skill that evades her automatic-licence-only mother.

(I often yell “third” to Liz, but she doesn’t dare touch the gearstick.)

What a clutch.

My Toyota V8 ute has woolly seat covers, an ashtray, and a custom-fitted and totally-offensive train horn. (The Tesla famously has a fart button that makes passengers laugh. My ute’s horn makes people on the street fart.) Lucky is chained up in the back, wind in her chops, as we roar into third gear.

It’s little wonder my boys are already fighting over who inherits it when I run out of diesel.

Yet at the peak of the oil crisis it was costing me $310 to fill the thing. And with the fuel excise about to snap back I've started asking myself:

Is it time to go electric?

My wife recently bought an EV and she loves it. I find it stressful. It’s like she’s driving with me.

Too close to the lines? Ding!

Eyes off the road? Ding!

All it’s missing is, “I wouldn’t have done it that way”.

An ABC article called the Labor government’s EV leasing scheme “an amazing secret deal”. And that’s exactly why it’s blown out tenfold, costing taxpayers $1.4 billion this year alone.

The government says it can save you $5,000 a year.

Sweet tax break!*

*Terms and conditions apply. Including the bit where your EV ends up worth half what you paid for it at the end of the lease.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

But it’s getting worse.

First, because all those amazing secret deals are leased and most will be dumped on the market in three to five years.

Second, because buying an EV is like buying a phone. (Case in point: I tried to trade in my perfectly functional but old iPhone 13 mini recently. The guy offered me a used K-Pop Demon Hunters phone case and $80 cash.)

In other words:

The first owner gets the tax break. The second owner gets the bargain.

Honk!

Tread Your Own Path!

---

Your Questions & Answers

• You’re a Loser, Barefoot 

• The Broken-Hearted Mum

• Leave Your Husband. Now. Don’t Delay.

---

You’re a Loser, Barefoot

Scott

Calling SpaceX “the most overvalued piece of junk going around” shows that you have no idea about AI and the massive disruptions it’s about to make (including to the financial advice industry). The stock is up 50% in the last five days. FIFTY PERCENT! I bet you wish your boring index fund had more than a 0.06% stake? The world’s richest woman, Gina Rinehart, is one of its biggest backers. Maybe you should listen to her, you loser.

Dean

Hi Dean,

You’re right.

Making 50% in two days is seriously get-rich-quick stuff.

You’re also wrong.

I’m perfectly comfortable with my boring 0.06% stake through my index funds.

Why?

Because I’ve been investing for three decades, and I don’t think in two-day time frames.

I think in decades.

You're right, I'm clearly not in Gina Rinehart's league. But then again, my Daddy didn't leave me a chunk of the Pilbara.

My index funds give me a slice of the earnings from thousands of businesses around the world. A slow and steady climb that compounds over time, not overnight.

And I’ve made peace with the fact that there will always be someone getting richer quicker than me:

That stops me from trading with my ego.

Now, on AI. I think AI is going to change the world. As did the internet. The internet transformed how we work, communicate, shop, travel and date. Yet most of the dot-com darlings that promised to change the world ended up broke.

A great technology doesn’t automatically make a great investment.

The current excitement around AI reminds me of every investing mania I’ve lived through. People stop talking about earnings. They stop talking about what a business is worth. And they start talking about the share price. Or, in your case, how much it went up in the last five days. 

Maybe SpaceX will prove me wrong.

Yet if there’s one thing I've learned after thirty years of investing, it’s this:

When everybody is talking about how much money they’re making, it’s usually time for me to get interested in something boring.

Boring wins.

---

The Broken-Hearted Mum

Hey Scott,

I am a broken-hearted mum right now. After a wonderful Mother’s Day weekend with both my sons, my older son has now ghosted me. No warning. No explanation. When I finally got a response, he told me he’d started seeing a psychologist who had helped him uncover suppressed emotions from his childhood. He says he can’t talk to me without screaming. I am at a loss. He had a good childhood. There was no abuse (okay, I yelled when chores didn’t get done and he got smacked when naughty) and no neglect (our food bill halved when he left home). Yet somehow I seem to have been cast as the villain of his story. My question is this: my son is 24, a sometimes full-time uni student, and works casually pushing trolleys at a supermarket. We still have him on our health insurance, pay for his NRMA roadside assist and even cover his Netflix. Is it time to cut the cord?

Sad Mum

Hello Sad Mum,

Before I answer this, a disclaimer: I am not a family therapist. My kids are still young enough that I can settle most disputes by threatening to turn off the Octonauts.

However, you didn’t ask me why your son is angry. You asked whether to cut him off financially.

And I can answer that one:

Hell, no.

If you cancel the insurance and Netflix today, he won’t suddenly remember that you loved him. He’ll see it as punishment, and you’ll have given him one more reason to stay away.

You’re heartbroken. You love your son. You want him back in your life. Money has got nothing to do with it. Parents and kids often remember the same childhood very differently. Sometimes one of them is wrong. Sometimes neither of them is.

What matters right now is keeping the door open long enough to see your son walk back through it.

---

Leave Your Husband. Now. Don’t Delay.

Scott,

Reading your question last week about Wendy hit home (“I live with a man I no longer love, but stay because of the money I’d have to pay him out”). I did the same thing for over 15 years. Finally, I left. Somewhere along the way I had become the money-bags and a parent to an infant adult rather than a partner. The injustice is the hardest part. Everything you worked for, sacrificed and provided will be split with someone who doesn’t care. It feels completely unfair. And it is. But here’s what I know from the other side.

I was Wendy two years ago. In denial about the settlement figure. Worried I wouldn’t get through it. So I delayed. It cost me nearly $100,000 more. Bloody property prices! Wendy, don’t delay. The settlement only gets worse the longer you wait. The house gets paid down, your super increases, the asset pool grows. They’ll still get their 50%, just of a bigger number. Take the leap. It will be hard. But you can do hard. You’ve been doing it every day of your relationship. You just didn’t see it at the time.

Hardworking Woman

Amen to that.

See you all next week.

Scott.

Why I invested in Elon Musk's SpaceX

I just invested in the most overvalued piece of junk going around:

Elon’s latest trillion-dollar trouser-tickler, SpaceX.

I didn’t have a choice. My index fund bought it for me. Automatically.

Because that’s what index funds do. They buy a tiny slice of the biggest companies, and SpaceX just elbowed its way into the club.

And ... I really don’t care.

Now, you may think old Barefoot has foot fungus.

After all, the media has been warning us of the impending DANGER:

“Elon Musk is about to change everything we know about the world of finance in a move experts say will expose millions of Aussies to a new level of risk.”

“Experts warn we’re entering ‘dangerous, dangerous territory’ as the potential concentration of wealth could impact 17 million Aussies.”

“SpaceX risks leaving index fund investors with heavy losses.”

So. Much. Clickbait.

Honestly, I’m so tired of every bloody article being lipsticked with urgency, fear and stress.

So, calmly, the question you want to know is this:

Am I an idiot for investing in a simple, low-cost index fund that buys SpaceX just because it’s a certain size, without even thinking about how much of a stinker this investment could be?

After all, the company lost almost $US5 billion last year. In the first three months of this year alone, it burned through another $US4.3 billion.

That’s the boring numbers stuff buried at the back of the prospectus that only weirdos like me read.

The cool stuff is all the phallic full-page pictures of rockets, and their ballsy aim of the “establishment of a permanent human colony on Mars with at least one million inhabitants”.

Men are from Mars. Elon is from Uranus.

Now, here’s the bit the headlines forget to mention.

I called Vanguard and asked them what proportion SpaceX would make up of my international index fund.

“We expect it to make up somewhere around 0.06 to 0.08% of the index”, they said.

Let’s put that in perspective.

If you have $1,000 invested in an international index fund, your holding in SpaceX comes to:

60 cents.

Sixty.

Cents.

That’s what all the fuss is about.

Yes, SpaceX looks wildly expensive. Yes, AI is being hyped to the heavens. But my index fund owns more than a thousand companies alongside SpaceX and automatically trims the losers.

You know what I love more than spaceships?

Beating the experts who feed the media these headlines.

The annual SPIVA report scores every active fund manager in Australia against the index. Last year, 74% of them lost to it. Over fifteen years, 87% lost to an index fund. Nearly nine in ten.

The people screaming loudest about the danger of index funds all want the same thing:

Your money. Don’t give it to them.

If SpaceX blows up, I lose sixty cents. I’m comfortable with that trade.

Tread Your Own Path!

---

Your Questions & Answers

• I Live With a Man I No Longer Love 

• I’m Panicking!

• The Latest Barefoot Scam

---

I Live With a Man I No Longer Love

Hi Scott,

I live with a man I no longer love. I stay because he has an autoimmune disease from a tick bite nine years ago. He hasn’t worked in 12 years. He tried day trading from home, failed, and now runs a fridge magnet business with a mate. He earns less than $18,000 a year. I pay the mortgage, the bills, the food, the clothing, and some of his medication.

He is mean, lazy and rude most of the time. I read your book, set up my accounts, and built real wealth. I’ve got $200k left on the mortgage of a house I bought without him (because he told me property was a bad idea). I have also got well over $1 million in super. He also told me contributing to super was dumb because it locked up my money.

Now a lawyer tells me he could walk away with more than 50% of everything I built. I don’t know what to do. So I stay? I’m 55 years old. Am I really going to walk away with only half of what I created?

Wendy

Hi Wendy,

It sounds like you’ve already made your mind up.

You just haven’t packed your bags and walked out the door, yet.

Now you’re writing to me, a finance guy, asking for permission to leave him.

Well, fair enough:

“You have permission.”

Look, there’s a reason you’re in a strong financial position, and he isn’t:

You did everything right. He sounds like he was a bozo (even before the tick).

Now you’ve seen the family lawyer and it sounds like they have said his ongoing illness and lack of income will be a factor in your separation.

And if that’s the price of financial success, I’d gladly pay it.

Why?

Because there’s honour in having looked after someone who has been a significant person in your life, who can’t fend for himself. That’s hard to accept for sure. But, Wendy, you’ve been doing this for years. At least this draws a line around it.

Yet, most importantly, because that money buys you your freedom.

You have 25 years of good living ahead of you to find someone you do love. You have a good amount in super, a nearly paid off home, and enough saved to spend six weeks in Europe with your friends. It’s not like you’ll be starting over. I’d call that a hell of a head start.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

---

I’m Panicking!

Hi Scott,

I’m a single mum to my 13-year-old son. After years of struggling, I found your book, followed the steps, saved a $50,000 deposit – and have just finally landed a great new job earning $119,000 a year. I got pre-approved last week and had an offer accepted on a $700,000 freestanding house. But when I stared down the barrel of the $4,200 monthly repayments I panicked. It left almost nothing to actually live on. So, I called the agent and pulled my offer. I’ve now set a hard ceiling of $650,000 to drop my repayments to $3,700 a month, which feels safer. Here’s my dilemma: The market is softening slightly, but I’m terrified of my deposit just sitting there. Do I keep hunting for a cheaper house, or do I rent for another year and keep saving?

Rina

Hi Rina,

I’m sitting here on the farm reading your question when a Luke Combs song came on. Growin’ Up and Gettin’ Old.

The killer line: “I ain’t lost a step, I just look before I take ’em."

That’s you. That’s exactly what you just did. You’re a smart, successful single mother who values safety and security for her son more than being talked into a transaction by a mortgage broker and a real estate agent chasing their commissions.

My advice?

Keep renting. Keep saving. And keep looking. The right place will come up soon enough.

And when it does, you’ll know.

---

The Latest Barefoot Scam

Hi Scott

A post from you popped up on my Facebook, with an offer of seeing your watchlist of US shares to buy.

I’ll admit I was taken in by it, especially that the poster was “Scott Pape”. It does look very professional, and even mentions your Order Of Australia medal!  However, it involved going into a WhatsApp group, which is obviously a scam. Just thought I’d let you know.

Bruce

Hey Bruce,

Yes, it’s a scam.

(My barber Benny is absolutely furious at how the scammers have depicted my hair. My personal trainer Shane, however, is very pleased with the forearms.)

The scammers are using AI to churn out hundreds of these ads, reposting them faster than I can round them up while sitting at the farm swearing at my sheepdog Lucky.

So here’s the tip:

Social media profits from these ads. So I quit posting on socials entirely.

If you see a post from me, know this:

It’s not me.

Thanks for reading.

Scott.

You’ll hate this

After reading this column, my editor, Wally, said:

“I’m confident this piece will generate the greatest amount of hate mail you’ve ever received.”

Let’s see if he’s right …

Do you know what the easiest thing I could have done this week was?

Exactly what every other financial commentator has done:

Lean into the outrage about the budget.

Instead, I’m going the other way. And I’m probably going to piss a lot of you off. Starting with Brian, who wrote to me after what I can only imagine was a solid session on the La-Z-Boy with a few reds:

Scott,

I am just so sick of these incompetent bastards. This budget is just another giant Labor tax grab. People in the top 10% of income earners pay more than half the taxes. Half! Now Albo wants to be a 47% silent partner in every small business in the country. Why would anyone bother? Young people saving for a deposit in index funds? Taxed. Family trusts helping kids through university? Taxed. Small business owners who’ve spent decades building something? Taxed at rates that would make your eyes water.

New Zealand has no capital gains tax. Dubai has no capital gains tax. And our smartest young people are figuring that out real fast. You’ve got the platform, Scott. Let your followers know what’s really going on.

Brian

Bingo-bango, Brian!

You’ve sure got a lot of very big feelings.

Thankfully, I’m a father of four. I deal with big feelings before breakfast.

Let’s get into it.

Brian and I have a lot in common. I’m a high income earner and I pay a lot of tax. I come from a family of small business owners and I run one myself. And I bristle when I see politicians crowing about their economic credentials. The fact is, this is the highest-taxing Australian government since World War Two, and that spending is putting pressure on interest rates that every mortgage holder feels.

Yet what really worries me isn’t the tax take. It’s that our outrage meter seems to be stuck at eleven.

It feels like we’re drifting towards America, where everything is viewed through a political lens and everyone is absolutely furious all the time.

And if we get angry enough we might just end up with Pauline as our PM, and the greatest economic insight she’s ever had was asking “Why can’t we just print more money?”

(Seriously, look it up.)

Anyway, let’s deal with Brian’s three beefs.

Think of the poor kids!

Plenty of young people have written to me in a panic about the changes to capital gains tax. Many were planning to use their share portfolio as a house deposit.

My view?

The CGT change is not their biggest problem.

Let's say a young investor puts $50k into an Aussie index fund. Based on historical returns, it grows to around $72k over five years. Under the new CGT rules, they'd pay roughly $900 more tax when they sell. And depending on future returns and inflation, they might actually come out ahead.

The real problem is the share market dropping 40% and their $72,000 deposit becoming $43,000. Then it takes a decade to recover, while rents keep rising and they’re still at their parents’ place eating their Cheerios. That’s why my rule has never changed: do not save for a house deposit in the share market.

Introducing my new business partner!

Brian’s “47% silent partner” line was funny on social media the first 700 times. Now it’s just annoying. And it’s wrong. The small business CGT concession regime allows the vast majority of small business owners to halve or completely eliminate the capital gains tax they pay when they sell. It’s been there for years (though the thresholds need to be increased).

The real risk is using the tax rate as a reason not to back yourself. Building something from nothing, employing people, serving your community. It’s a hard life. It’s also one of the most rewarding things a person can do. Don’t let a meme talk you out of it.

The family trust

Okay, so this one stings. You see, my kids have been nothing but a spectacular financial loss since the day they arrived. I was counting down the days until they turned eighteen, when I could finally start distributing trust income to them and claw something back. And then the bloody government snapped that door shut just as my eldest was getting close to useful.

Yet it actually makes sense. The system lets wealthy families with good accountants pay less tax than nurses and tradies. That doesn’t pass the pub test.

Finally, if you spend enough time on social media (or listen to Brian) you may start to think that Australia is the highest-taxed nation on earth. Actually, we’re in the middle of the pack, but with a standard of living in the top handful of countries on the planet. The cops don’t shake us down (mostly). Our kids go to decent public schools (mostly). And if one of them gets sick, you don’t need a GoFundMe page.

And what about the top 10% of taxpayers that Brian is so upset for?

We’ll be fine.

After all, we’re the wealthiest people in the country.

Living in one of the wealthiest countries in the world.

At the richest time in human history.

Life is good, Brian, especially when you log off.

Tread Your Own Path!

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Your Questions & Answers

• Am I Financially Abusing My Brother?

• No Show Albo

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Am I Financially Abusing My Brother?

Hi Scott,

My brother just divorced his nasty wife. She had access to all his accounts, blew through a $180,000 inheritance, ran up $25,000 on his credit card, and towards the end wouldn’t even let him touch his own debit card. He’s now living with me. He’s on a disability pension and can’t work. I manage his accounts, have set up his savings, and have tried to teach him the basics. He says it’s too hard. My sister accuses me of making it worse. Am I doing more harm than good?

Caring Sister

---

Hello Caring Sister,

Your brother is lucky to have you.

Your sister doesn’t sound nice, but she does have a point.

(How’s that for having it both ways?)

Now, before you throw me across the room, I know your intentions are completely different from his nasty ex-wife’s. You love your brother. She didn’t. But, from where he’s standing, someone else is still controlling his money, his savings, and his decisions.

Now your bro doesn’t need to become the next Warren Buffett. He just needs to learn to stand on his own two feet again, but that won’t happen while you’re transferring his surplus savings for him.

Think about how this plays out long term. Your brother grows increasingly dependent on you. You grow increasingly resentful … and neither of you need that. 

My advice?

Keep helping him with the basics. Set him up with one simple account, show him how to use his card, and then step back. Let him make small mistakes with small money. That’s how people learn. And then, when the settlement comes, he’ll be ready to move out and start his new life. That’s good for him, and great for you.

---

No Show Albo

Scott,

As a man who lost the family home because of my gambling addiction (a shame I live with every day), and as a father whose teenage son ‘plays’ fantasy football and gets emails and ads from sports gambling companies, I was bitterly disappointed that the government tried to bury their inaction on gambling ads. Did you get a reply from the Prime Minister?

Daniel

---

Hi Daniel

I wasn’t expecting a reply, and old Albo didn’t disappoint!

He’s the most powerful man in Australian politics. He had the backing from both sides of politics, and the people – nearly three-quarters of parents (myself included) reported being bothered by their kids being exposed to gambling ads.

He had the ability to stand up and say:

“We’ve got a huge gambling problem on our hands, and the beginning of that problem is that sport is a gateway to gambling: today for three in four kids it’s a normal part of sport. That’s crap. I’m the Prime Minister of this country and I’ve had enough. No more bloody ads.”

But he didn’t.

The lobbyists won, the kids lost.

The odds never change.

Thanks for reading.

Scott.

My marriage is on a knife edge

“You’re not going to like this”, said the bloke at my local farm supplies store.

The price of PVC pipes I need for the farm had just increased 40% across the board.

“Because of the rising cost of oil, which is a key component of the pipes”, he said.

“Well, they can stick that in their pipe and smoke it!” I said, like I was Tommy Tough Knuckles.

Silence.

He knew, and I knew, that I had zero choice but to cop it in the pole and pay up.

Welcome to the biggest oil shock in living memory.

Everything on the farm is more expensive. Which means tonight’s dinner was likely grown by someone with a maxed-out overdraft and a diesel bill that makes your eyes water.

“It’s still possible that if the Middle East conflict resolves everything will turn out okay”, said Reserve Bank Governor Michele Bullock last month.

Sure.

And it’s also possible my kids will remember Mother’s Day is coming up and they’ll buy a present, wrap it, and make a cute card, ahead of time.

But it’s unlikely.

I’m much more certain that the people in charge are making it up as they go along … which is why “they’ll sort it out” is not currently in my investment strategy.

It’s clear that Donald Trump has no idea how to get the Strait open. He’s sent a barrage of angry tweets, threatened to wipe them off the map, and the Iranians have been like, “LOL”.

It’s also very clear that our government is about as prepared as my kids on Mother’s Day morning. They went from assuring us we had plenty of fuel reserves to Albo flying around Asia with a jerrycan begging our poorer neighbours for a day’s worth of fuel.

The only politician I ever truly trusted was my dear old mate, former Deputy Prime Minister Tim Fischer. I remember he once leaned over to me and said:

“Scott, the entire world is only three meals away from World War Three.”

He was being deliberately provocative. But his point was dead serious: food security, like cheap petrol and toilet paper, is something we take completely for granted ... until Bryan posts on Facebook:

“I’m a stockpilin’!”

Right now, fuel and fertiliser costs are pushing the price of nearly everything higher.

And when inflation climbs above 3% the Reserve Bank lifts rates.

Their aim is to slap the economy in the face – to slow things down by making your mortgage so uncomfortable you cancel Netflix and rediscover the true horror of free-to-air television.

But here’s the problem: even stripping out fuel and food, inflation is already running above 3%.

So brace for a slap. Probably several. Think of it as an episode of MAFS, except the contestants all bought their homes on Albo’s 5% deposit scheme.

Now things could ease, if the Middle East settles down. Maybe.

Yet here’s the principle I keep coming back to, the one that has never once done me wrong: “Hope for the best. Plan for the worst.”

What does that mean right now?

Sit down this weekend and ask yourself: if my mortgage rate went up another 1.5%, and my groceries cost another $200 a month, could I handle it? If yes, sleep easy. If no, go to your bathroom and dust off an unread copy of The Barefoot Investor.

And what if it all blows over?

Well, I called my supplier to ask if the pipe prices would be coming back down.

He just laughed at me.

“That’s a pipe dream.”

Tread Your Own Path!

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Your Questions & Answers

• My Marriage is on a Knife Edge

• Did I Get Fleeced by My Vet?My Marriage is on a Knife Edge

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Hi Scott,

My husband refuses to do Barefoot Dates. My pay goes into his account. I only have a second card on his credit account and can’t withdraw cash. He’s run his own business for 21 years and put nothing into super. Our marriage is on the absolute knife edge. We’ve been in counselling for seven months and nothing is changing. My dad passed away and I’ve put the money from his house into a term deposit. We have three kids (two teenagers and one brand-new adult), and my mum lives in our granny flat. I want us all to have a stable home, whatever happens. Everyday account: negative $600. Savings: $10,000. Term deposit: $250,000. I have no idea what to do.

Tracey

---

Hi Tracey,

So you have two teenagers and an adult ... but your husband has another child too.

You.

He’s treating you like a child.

Your pay goes into his account. You’re not allowed to withdraw cash.

There’s a very good reason your marriage is on a knife edge: he’s using your money to bully you.

So, I’ll give you the same advice any dad would to a daughter he loves: don’t let anyone push you around.

First, go and see a family lawyer and work through your options.

Second, the next time you’re in counselling, get it out on the table.

Finally, think about your dad.

He left you $250,000.

That’s your freedom. Yours, and his grandkids’.

Did I Get Fleeced by My Vet?

Hi Scott,

I’m a first-time pet owner and my cat has nearly sent me broke. She got into a fight with another cat and badly damaged her eye. The first vet visit cost $500, and after a night of giving eye drops every hour I turned up to the animal eye hospital as a sleep-deprived, tearful mess. Two choices: try to save the eye, or remove it.

I chose the expensive, hopeful option. I’d been awake all night, running on panic and eye drops, thinking complete nonsense: How will I tell my girls I’d lost the cat's eye? Will other cats bully her? Feline self-esteem issues? None of it was rational, but in that state it felt like the only decision I could live with.

It cost $7,000, pulled from my Mojo and my daughters’ savings. Then the eye went bad anyway and had to be removed – for another $3,000. She’s now a very lovable one-eyed cat. But a year later, with my accounts still in recovery, I can’t help wondering: is this just what vet treatment costs, or was I taken for a ride because I was distressed and desperate? Are vet costs regulated at all, or are bewildered first-time pet owners just easy pickings when emotion takes over?

And what’s the Barefoot view on pet insurance? Better to insure, or keep a solid Mojo and accept that sometimes your cat turns into a $10,500 pirate?

Lucy

---

Hi Lucy

I may get in a fight and lose an eye over this:

The last time I wrote about the high cost of pet surgery, the CEO of the Australian Veterinary Association wrote an open letter taking me to the kitty litter.

Miaow!

Honestly, the corporate buy-up of local vets seriously pisses me off.

They’ve jacked up their charges.

They push their upsells hard.

(“While you’re here, Mr Pape, we’d suggest a dental hygiene treatment for your sheepdog – oral health is very important for kelpies. It’s an $800 fee, but it could save you a lot of money in the long run”, advised the vet nurse. “Do you know how many bones I could buy for eight hundred bucks?” I barked.)

And when you have bill shock they push expensive branded pet insurance which often only covers 60% to 80% of the bill, caps your claims, and comes with gaps, excesses and exclusions.

Still, you decided to spend ten bangers on your cat: that’s on you, not the vet.

The cost of pet ownership has become so high that families need to seriously think through the costs before Mittens is brought home: ASIC’s Moneysmart says a dog costs $3,200+ a year and a cat about $1,715 ... and that doesn’t include vet bills if your pet gets sick (which it will) or loses an eye. Then you’re up for labradoodle money.

My view?

Self-insure with Mojo, if you’re disciplined enough to leave the money alone when your cat is staring at you with her one remaining eye. Buy insurance if you know you’ll fold like an Aldi card table under pressure.

Above all else, go in with your eyes wide open.

Thanks for reading,

Scott.

Shiver Me Timbers

Hi Scott, 

I have a friend who offered to manage my superannuation for me. So I transferred all $173,000 from Australian Super to his SMSF. Long story short, he started trading with an overseas firm (Swipe Capital) and it was a scam. It’s all gone, plus around $50,000 of my savings I put in too. I’m really angry with my ‘friend’ who I thought knew what he was doing but traded with an unregulated company overseas. All my Google searches about this company say the same thing: ‘red flag’ or ‘scam alert’. Where do I stand in regard to the $223,000 I’ve lost – can the government do anything, or is it gone forever?

Lincoln

Lincoln,

Your super was with the equivalent of a Sydney ferry, large, boring, and packed with the public – and your mate stowed you both on board a pirate ship, with Captain Feathersword at the wheel. Shiver me timbers!  

Your mate walked you off the plank, but you do need to take some responsibility here, mate. You handed control of your super to a friend, and that’s where you got peg-legged. Aghh!

You could speak to a lawyer about whether your friend breached his duties as a trustee. But if he’s been looted too, then chasing him may cost more than you’ll ever recover. So by all means report it to ASIC and SCAMwatch, but do it knowing there’s a very good chance the money is gone.

They’ve stolen your money. Don’t let them take everything else with it. People who get scammed lose more than money. They lose their confidence, their peace of mind, and sometimes their will to keep going. Call IDCARE on 1800 595 160. Talk to someone who gets it.

Guard your mental health like treasure.

Money Is Ruining My Marriage

Scott,

I’m approaching my 10-year wedding anniversary and I regret the day I combined our bank accounts. Two months after our honeymoon I was pregnant, we’d bought a car on $20k finance and put a deposit on an off-the-plan home. Since then my ability to earn and spend has been stunted by raising kids and a husband who became obsessed with controlling all spending, with no regard for my needs.

I’m back to full-time work now, earning just under $100k. He earns $200–250k. We have a mortgage of $620k. Spending is lean. Yet I’m still being controlled when it comes to my own money. I’ve been honest with him about wanting to separate our finances. He needs help with his scarcity mentality and we need a third party before this ends in divorce. I feel trapped.

Sarah

Sarah,

Let me give you the key that will unlock the trap:

Open your own bank account today. Deposit your pay into it. You don’t need his permission.

You’re a 40-year-old woman earning $100,000 a year. You don’t need permission to spend your own money.

What you’re describing has a name: coercive control. It’s not a budgeting problem. It’s not a scarcity mentality problem. It’s a power problem. Yes, you need a marriage counsellor. But I want you to open that account before you even book the appointment.

Because here’s what I know after 22 years of reading letters like yours: women who take back control of their own money stop asking, and start deciding. They stand differently. They speak differently. And sometimes (not always, but sometimes) that shift changes everything around them too.

Maybe he comes with you. Maybe the counsellor helps him understand what he’s been doing. Maybe the marriage has a future. But none of that starts until you stop asking for permission.

If you need someone to talk to before you’re ready for counselling, call 1800 RESPECT (1800 737 722). They understand financial abuse better than most.

You already know what to do, Sarah.

You just haven’t given yourself permission yet.

I Thought I Was Really Clever … Now My Wife is FURIOUS

Hi Scott,

I thought I was really clever when I started buying silver and gold about nine months ago. I bought the silver outright and the gold through a saver account with a reputable dealer. I’ve ferreted away a few grand and put $13,000 against our home loan – which had zero owing before I did this. I’ve put in $17,000, and our silver and gold is now worth about $30,000. I told my wife earlier this week and showed her the physical gold and silver. She was ropeable.

Before you say I should have included her: I’ve tried Barefoot Date Nights but she’s never shown any interest, too busy with kids, etc. Everything gets paid and she has enough money for groceries, nights out with the girls, and whatever she wants. But she’s furious. I thought she’d be rapt that I did something smart. 

Now she doesn’t want to hear about it. I want to double down and buy more, but she won’t even comment. We have a $200,000 investment loan for ETFs which has done nothing for two years – only up about $8,000. What should I do? Sell enough to clear the $13,000? Hold the silver? Sell the ETF and buy heaps more silver? Change my super to an SMSF and buy gold?

Ben

Dude,

Dude.

Duuuuude.

Your wife isn’t furious about the shiny metals.

She’s furious because you went behind her back and pulled $13,000 from the family home loan without telling her. Then you unveiled it like a kid at show-and-tell who’d found $10 in a carpark.

You didn’t include her – but you expected applause?

Truthfully?

You got lucky. Gold has had an incredible run. And now you’re asking whether to double down, drain the ETFs and restructure your super … while your wife won’t talk to you.

That’s your answer right there.

The investment question is easy. The marriage question is the one you’re ignoring. So, book the Barefoot Date Night. Not to explain silver … to actually listen to her.

Because right now you’ve got $30,000 in precious metals and a wife who doesn’t trust you.

I know which one I’d rather have.

My view?

Sell the metals. Clear the home loan. Then have the conversation you should have had nine months ago.

My Teenage Son Thinks I’m Stupid

Hi Scott,

My 17-year-old son says I’m holding him back because I won’t let him access $1,000 of the money we have saved for him, to invest on something called BloFin. When I ask where he got this idea, he says “people”. I ask who – real people? – but I never get a straight answer. I’ve told him that if he’s that keen to invest then he can get a school holiday job and risk that money instead. That’s when I’m accused of being old-fashioned and not understanding investing. He might be right, I don’t understand crypto-style platforms. But I do understand working, saving, and not gambling money at 17. The digital world moves fast, and I know I’m behind. I don’t even trust what I read online anymore. Am I being overcautious? Or are these online trading platforms something parents should be deeply wary of? How do you guide a teenage boy who thinks the internet knows more than his mum?

Chloe

Hi Chloe,

Your son is right about one thing: you don’t understand investing.

What you do understand is that losing money hurts a lot more when you’ve earned it.

He’s 17. He’s bulletproof. He could lose the entire $1,000 and still not admit you were right.

That comes with the ability to grow sideburns.

Here’s my advice: let him lose it.

I know that sounds crazy. Hear me out.

When I was younger than your son, my first investment was something called a “special situations” managed fund. I’m fairly sure “special situations” was code for “whatever the fund felt  like betting on”.

The fund had ridiculously high past returns.

Which of course was exactly why I invested in it.

Guess what happened?

The special situations became extenuating situations. Then terrible situations. Then “where did all my money go?” situations. (I think they were big into emus at one stage.)

I lost most of my money, and it turned out to be one of my best investments. It taught me more about risk, hype and human nature than any book, podcast or online ‘expert’ ever could.

So here’s what I’d do:

Tell him he can invest the $1,000 in BloFin – but I agree with you, only if he earns it first with a school holiday job. If he won’t work for it, he doesn’t get to risk it. Simple.

If he earns it and loses it? That’s an expensive lesson.

But it’s a cheap one compared to what he’ll lose later in life if he never learns it.

The goal isn’t to protect your kids from making mistakes … it’s to make sure the mistakes happen while the stakes are still small!

Help! My In-laws Are Conspiracy Theory Cookers

Dear Scott,

My conspiracy theorist parents-in-laws are offering my husband and me $3,000 – but only if we invest it in silver. We live week to week, so this is serious money. They even sat us down to set up an ABC Bullion account. Silver will make us and them rich, apparently (they’re almost 70 and have never been smart with money). If we do what they say, they’ve also promised to enrol our two-year-old son in a prestigious Sydney boarding school where three generations of the family have gone.

The problem is I don’t want cooker investments. And I don’t want my son shipped off to boarding school four hours away! He’s TWO! We can’t afford decades of debt. And our three daughters get nothing because they’re not boys. Both sets of parents bankrupted themselves on school fees and had nothing for retirement. I won’t repeat that. But my husband won’t cross his parents. How do I make him see this is madness?

Linda

Hey Linda, 

They may be crazy, but they’re also cunning.

In fact, I think your in-laws are about to make the trade of a lifetime: 

But it ain’t silver ... that three grand they’re ‘giving’ you will buy them a say over your kids. And if you take it, you’ve agreed (silently) that they get a say: 

In your investments.

In your two-year-old son’s schooling. 

In the messages you send to your girls about their self-worth. 

And they’re getting all that for, what, three grand? 

In the wise words of the Brown Wiggle, “Bugger that”.

Look, if I were you, I wouldn’t waste energy trying to convert the in-laws. You won’t. People who mistake their silverware for a portfolio rarely change their minds over pavlova. 

This conversation belongs with your husband. 

But a word of warning: if you go after his parents you’ll push him straight into their corner.

So instead simply ask him: 

“Both our parents bankrupted themselves on school fees and dud investments. Are we going to continue that tradition, or are we doing something different?” 

Forget silver. It’s time for him to show some steel.

How Do I Avoid Going to Prison for my Brother?

Scott,

For twenty years, my brother has asked me to buy gold for him from the Perth Mint. He lives overseas and mistrusts banks, governments, and anyone who enjoys paperwork. So I bought gold for him. Three thousand here. Six thousand there. Over time, this turned into around $100k of gold in my garage. Gold prices are now up, and suddenly my brother wants to sell.

Technically it's his gold and his money, but legally it looks like mine. The Perth Mint receipts are in my name and the gold has been living rent-free next to my lawn mower for decades. When I investigate selling it, I discover capital gains tax and AUSTRAC reporting. Neither appeal to me as a regular mum with zero interest in explaining myself to government departments.

My brother, unfazed, proposes a solution after consulting ChatGPT: Post the gold in $10k parcels to Ainslie Bullion, include a Binance Bitcoin QR code, he gets paid in Bitcoin. Presto, no tax, no problems. I would prefer not to feature in a tax audit or a future true-crime podcast titled "The Garage Bullion Affair." My brother is not a criminal, but he thinks he's very clever.

What's the least painful solution?

Lisa

Hi Lisa,

I’m a brother, and I do annoying things to my big sister … yet the most annoying thing I’ve stored in her garage is an old spa bath.

Yet your bro’s plan has more leaks than my hot tub ever had. It opens you up to the risk of an Australian Taxation Office audit or a call from the coppers.

Here are three leak that I can sees:

First, deliberately splitting a large sale into $10,000 parcels to avoid AUSTRAC reporting is called structuring, and it’s a crime.

Second, for any bullion sale over $5,000, dealers are legally required to verify your ID.

Third, Bitcoin isn’t invisible. The ATO tracks crypto exchanges, and the digital trail is as permanent as a bank transfer.

What would I do?

I’d get a statutory declaration from your brother stating he’s the beneficial owner and you were only acting as his agent. Then sell the gold through a reputable dealer. Show the declaration to your accountant and let them work out who pays the tax. 

Your brother can ChatGPT his way to the clink, but you don’t want any skeletons in your garage.

Your Son Has a Car Crash? Good.

Hi Scott,

Our 20-year-old son let his car insurance lapse. Then he had an accident. His car hit two other vehicles. Now both insurers are chasing him for nearly $30,000 (plus he still needs to repair his own car). He's a part-time student working at Woolies with barely any income.  What would you say if this were your son?

Kelly

Hi Kelly,

If it were my son?

I’d ask him, “what’s your plan to fix the mess you’ve created?”

Hint: the correct answer to that question is:

“I’ve gathered up all the paperwork from the insurers, I’ve called the National Debt Helpline on 1 800 007 007, and I’m sitting down with a financial counsellor to work through my options”.

Another hint: don’t make the call for him. Don’t go to the meeting with him. Let him sort it out.

If he sits across from a financial counsellor like me, here’s the likely outcome:

He has no assets, and no capacity to repay the debt. So the insurer will likely waive the debt, or put him on a small payment plan for 12 months, and eventually waive the debt.

Final hint: don’t tell him that. Let him work it out for himself, and live with the ramifications of being a financial five year old.

Help! I’ve Ruined My Husband’s Life

Hi Scott,

I'm overwhelmed, emotional and don't have any closer friends I can speak to or confide in. My husband and I recently brought a new house but the loan is eating up most of my pay. (He loves cars and we have 4 at the moment, but only use 2 at any time!) My husband said to me yesterday that he hates his life and that he hates never going on holidays and having fun like everyone else.  He's intimated that he's had a dreadful life since he's met me, and to be fair that's not wrong. And to top it off, I'm just recently pregnant. Please help.

Sandra

Sandra,

This isn't a money problem. This is your husband telling his pregnant wife that she's ruined his life … while he parks four cars in the driveway.

You're building a nest. He's building a hot wheels collection. And now he's blaming you for the fact that his choices have consequences. It sounds like you’ll soon have two babies to look after.

Here's what needs to happen:

You both sit down and have an honest conversation about what actually matters now. You will soon have a baby. You want them to grow up safe and secure, without the two of you fighting and stressing about money.

Tell him: "Here's what's important to me: Our baby. Our family. And not living under constant financial pressure."

Then be specific: "We need to sell at least two of these cars. We need a budget that doesn't eat my entire pay. And we need to stop pretending we can afford a lifestyle we can't."

Sandra, this must be incredibly stressful. The natural reaction is to sweep this under the rug and hope it gets better. Don't do that. 

Given you don't have close friends to confide in, I want you to reach out to a financial counsellor (1800 007 007). You need someone in your corner. In time, hopefully this will include your husband, but for now, you're in crisis and you need support and quickly. You need this sorted well before the baby comes.

Scott

If You Could See Me Now

Hi Scott,

Ten years ago I was a 40-year-old woman leaving a violent relationship and facing $50,000 of debt that my ex had taken out in my name. I thought bankruptcy was my only option. Then my sister handed me your book. As I started reading, something clicked – a light came on – and I began working my way through the mess. During that time, I changed jobs and slowly paid off the debt. At the same time, I managed to save enough for a house deposit. I bought my first home and, using your principles, I’ve continued to put every pay rise and promotion toward my mortgage. This week, I’ll be making my final payment; my mortgage will be completely paid off! I couldn’t have done it without The Barefoot Investor. Thank you for helping me turn my life around.

Katy

Hey Katy,

That’s an incredible story.

You’re not the same person who picked up that book.

In order to achieve what you’ve achieved, you’ve had to become a new person. And that isn’t easy. But you’ve done it.

There are lots of people reading this right now who are in the situation you were in, and don’t believe they can do it. 

You’re testament to the fact that it can be done.

Should I Tell My Kids How Much I Earn?

Scott,

I need a second opinion on a years-long family dispute. My husband and I have three high schoolers who keep demanding to know our salaries. I’m all for teaching kids about money early, but we’ve always considered our earnings private – not something to share with friends or family. I also worry about the assumptions they’ll make: that salary equals lifestyle, or that our numbers will either discourage or mislead them when choosing careers. What’s your take? Should we tell our kids how much we earn? 

Kathryn

Hi Kathryn,

Well, you can do what you want with your kids, but for me … it’s a HELL NO.

One day my eldest was noodling about on his calculator when he point blank asked me:

“Dad, you’ve sold three million books, right? How much does each copy sell for?”

I just stared at him.

“Not as much as you think, mate.”

Look, the problem with telling kids how much money you make is that they have zero context about how much it costs to live as a grown-up. Even for your teenagers, their financial frame of reference is $4 vapes and $14 an hour flipping burgers.

A hundred grand a year may as well be Scrooge McDuck swimming in your coin pool to them.

My view? It’s none of their business how much money you earn.

Yet what’s critical is that they watch you modelling good money behaviours.

How do you do that?

First, you give them context. Hand them their financial L-plates and let them sit in on bill paying and some spending decisions. Maybe put them in charge of monitoring the electricity bill and shopping around for a better deal.

It also means you don’t lie to them. If you’re wealthy, don’t say “I can't afford that”. The kids will see right through it, especially if they see you spending money on other stuff.

Instead say, “I don’t want to spend my money on that”.

That sends a powerful message: you choose where your money goes, and it’s YOUR money, not theirs.

Having their own pocket money helps here. With my kids I explain that their Jam Jars are like my bank accounts – neither has an endless supply. If they really truly want something, they can do what you did: work hard, save up, and buy it themselves.

Finally, in terms of choosing their careers, I tell my kids all the time:

I’ve had a huge element of luck in my career. It’s not normal to sell so many books. There are plenty of more talented writers who haven’t been so lucky. However, they also know that I still turn up and enjoy my work even though most of the time I’m not getting paid. That’s how you know you’ve found the right career.

Your job isn’t to give them a salary target to aim for, it’s to help them find work that matters to them.

Scott

The worst question

I woke up at 4:30am and stumbled to the kitchen. 

Through sleepy eyes, I spotted a handwritten note on the fridge from my eldest son: 

"Why are you doing this to me? The pain is unbearable! And for what!?"

He’d just been fitted for braces and was evidently having a hard time breaking up with popcorn.

Now, we live in the country, so I thought we’d get country prices. Wrong. Ten grand. That’s what it cost us. That’s more than I spent on my first three cars combined! And yet they were the same tram tracks that kids had in the 80s, just ten times the ticket price!

Look, I’m no tooth fairy, but it looks simple enough: thirty cents of wire, a few dobs of Supa Glue, and a tiny ratchet they tighten monthly. My fencer could probably do it (though at $150 an hour it’d cost the same anyway).

I was having a bad week.

Yet it was about to get worse.

That morning I received a very serious email about last week’s column. I’d written about MoneyMe, a tadpole lender that looked at a couple spending $92,000 on a wedding and thought, “This is perfect marketing material”. Ribbit! They were so angry they cc’d all my bosses at the newspaper.

BAM! 

They demanded that their branding be taken off social media mentions, and included an itemised list of things they wanted “corrected” for the record.

(Oh for godsakes. I felt like I was in the dentist’s chair. Someone give me some happy gas!)

“We’ll make a couple of tweaks”, said my editor.

“Fair enough”, I said.

“... but there’s nothing to stop me writing about them again this week”, I thought to myself. 

“They’ll love that.”

That night, as my son slurped his soup, he looked as miserable as me. 

Here’s what I told him:

“Mate, I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but some pain is actuallly worth it.”

And so is calling out financial products that trap people in unnecessary debt, even if it means angry emails. Because, unlike braces, bad financial decisions don’t come off in two years. They can wire your life shut for a decade.

Tread Your Own Path!

Abusive Mum Dies, With One Last Trick

Hi Scott,

I’m in a pickle. My brother and I are close, and we stopped talking to our Mum about 7 years ago after years of pretty severe abuse by her. We heard about 2 years ago she had an incurable disease, and just found out that she has now passed away.

The issue is, our Mum met a man a few weeks before being diagnosed and then married him. We don’t know this man, but he will be the sole beneficiary of everything she has, including a house she inherited from our late grandmother, also after our Mum was diagnosed.

My brother and I don’t think it’s right that this man gets everything - we never wanted to stop speaking to our Mum, but unfortunately that’s how life went. And I know - we already wiped our hands clean of her years ago, and could do the same with her assets. But it just doesn’t feel right. Where do we even begin?

Casey

Hi Casey,

I'm sorry you're going through this. You should listen to your gut. This timeline has more red flags than a Chinese Embassy. Let me tick them off: Mum meets man. Gets an incurable diagnosis. Marries him. Inherits Grandma's house. Dies. Leaves everything to a stranger.

That's bonkers!

So I ran this past my lawyer, Dr Brett Davies from Legal Consolidated. 

Here's what you can challenge:

First, the will could be dodgy: Did she have mental capacity while battling disease? Was she unduly influenced by this bloke? Courts can bin dodgy wills.

Second, the will could be unfair. Even if valid, you can argue for adequate provision. Courts say parents have a moral duty to provide for their kids, regardless of relationship.

Finally, the sleeper issue is your grandmother’s house. Get your grandmother’s will immediately. She may have only given your mum a life interest, the right to live there, not own it. If so, it automatically comes to you and your brother, not this stranger.

So here’s what I want you to do: get both wills, the marriage certificate, and title deeds. Find a deceased estate litigation lawyer through your state’s Law Society (you need courtroom brawlers, not gentlemanly will-writers). You've got six to 12 months from death or probate. Miss it and your claim dies.

Honestly, these fights are expensive and ugly. Have a meeting with your lawyer, understand your position, then you and your brother can decide together.

You've already survived years of abuse. If this will consume the next two years of your life, you have every right to walk away. You don't need to fight her anymore. You're free.

Peace be with you.

Scott

My Dead Bros Debts

Dear Scott,

Three weeks ago, my younger brother died. He’d been living in an aged care home for mentally ill people run by St. Vincent’s hospital in Melbourne. Now they’ve sent me a bill for $12,000 in unpaid accommodation costs. I have never signed to take responsibility for him.  In fact his money affairs are handled by state trustees. As his elder sister, do I have to pay this debt?

Jenny

Hi Jenny,

I’m really sorry for your loss.

That’s junk mail: you are not liable for your brother’s debts.

Forward it on to the State Trustees, who can pay it if there is any money in his estate.

If there’s not, it will be written off.

Scott

Trust Fund Kids Blow Up

Scott,

I’m 72 and have had hard-won success in business. I’ve got four adult kids aged between 23 and 35. They’ll inherit around $80 million when I die, but none of them are serious about money. My son lost $100,000+ on crypto. My eldest has been in and out of rehab. My daughter wants me to fund a fashion label, despite having zero business experience.

I love my kids, but I was too busy making money. I thought they’d learn through osmosis. Clearly not. I don’t want to rule from the grave, but I’m terrified they’ll blow it all within a few years of me being gone. Yet, if they could be convinced, they could grow the pie and live off it forever. My question is, should I hand it over to advisors to work with them now?

Anonymous

Hi Anonymous,

If you hand it to advisors to manage, there’s a good chance they’ll be sacked the day after your funeral. I’ve seen it happen. Your kids will fire their financial babysitter the first chance they get.

They’re like lotto winners. What they really need to learn is how to keep the money they didn’t earn, and that’s a skill very few trust fund kids ever master.

Take Cornelius Vanderbilt. In the 1800s he built one of the world’s great fortunes, worth roughly $200 billion in today’s money, and warned his kids not to blow it. Within a few generations they’d built mansions bigger than hotels and couldn’t afford the plumbing bills. By their 1973 family reunion, not one was even a millionaire.

That’s the curse of unearned wealth. It doesn’t just get spent badly, it often destroys the people who inherit it.

I don’t know your kids. Maybe your daughter will build the next Zimmermann, and maybe your son has learned his crypto lesson. But history says the odds aren’t good.

So here’s what I’d do.

I’d buy each child a modest home, say up to $1.25 million including stamps. That gives them security, but they still have to get out of bed to pay the rates. That’s $5 million total, which is life changing, but not life ruining.

Then I’d make your real legacy the next decade. Spend time mentoring them. Get them involved in your business, fund their study, have them run small charitable projects, maybe even that fashion label, but with you watching closely.

After that, leave the rest to a cause you care about. You could involve your kids in it, but tread carefully. I’ve met plenty of trust fund kids who resent giving away what they see as their money.

Warren Buffett put it best: “A very rich person should leave his kids enough to do anything, but not enough to do nothing.”

The hardest financial lesson for your kids isn’t learning about compound interest. It’s that choices have consequences. And that’s a lesson money can’t buy.

Scott