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How to Ask Your Parents For Money (And Get Rejected Fast!)

When you become an adult, parents tend to be the hardest people in the world to ask money from. Not only because they probably have no money to spare but also because you are expected to provide for yourself now! The worst part is when you have to listen to lectures about hard work, thriftiness, and responsibility. Like that would be any consolation to your empty stomach and equally empty leather money clip.
Parents are not exactly heartless. In fact, your parents might just be teaching you about adult responsibilities that you refuse to take as you cling to being a Peter Pan. There is nothing wrong with being a Peter Pan as much as there is nothing wrong with Michael Jackson. Or maybe there is? But I digress. Here is how to make your father hide his leather money clip faster than you can whine "Oh, Pleaaasssseee help me, Mother".
Be the Greatest Liar Who Ever Lived
Never ever tell the truth behind your begging them for money. You can invent good excuses for your real troubles - you are sick when you actually are pregnant and want an abortion fast; you have overran your credit card limit because you bought nice things for your sisters in college when you actually have gambling debts enough to pay the year's mortgage; or you need to take maintenance medicines for depression and anxiety when you are actually a junkie.
If your parents know the real trouble you are in, you can bet your last dollar on your woefully-slim leather money clip that your request will be rejected. Until such time you tell them the truth, maybe.
Discuss How You Plan to Spend the Money
But discuss it in such a way that your true needs will not be addressed. You can be as imaginative as you want in wasting the money they will be loaning you. If you know they have funds for a Hawaii vacation, tell them that you want to go to Hawaii because the doctor ordered it. (Use the depression and anxiety excuse, if you like)
Not only will you end up with lesser money on your leather money clip (cab fare or gasoline sounds familiar?) but you will also be alienating yourself from your miserly parents. No more "Mom, thanks for the quick loan".
Just Because I Said So
You have often heard this phrase from your parents when you were younger. You want to wear Goth makeup and they told you no; you ask why, they tell you "Just because I said so!" Well, now is the time to use the very same phrase to have your wish done.
Never ever give your parents time to decide about your request. Never ever put your reasons on paper lest they find an "i" with no dots and a "t" with no slash. If they sense something fishy about your request, there goes the dollars to feed your hungry leather money clip.
It is a Donation, Not a Loan
And the best way to scare off your parents is to tell them you are asking, not borrowing. Be as insensitive as you can be about their needs. You might just find yourself kissing the door while they slam it on your face. Your old bedroom door, of course. Nobody said anything about loving parents actually throwing you out on the streets!
Of course, if you really need the money for valid purposes, you should never ever follow this advice. Otherwise, you really are asking for trouble, not money.
About the Author
If you only you were one of those successful career people with leather briefcases and a personalized business card holder, you probably will not be asking your parents to fill in your leather money clip. Nevertheless, should you need these things, visit ExecutiveGiftShoppe.com.

Priceless Humor

Priceless Humor

Humor

Gimme A Head With Hair

A man's hair are certainly one of his best assets and a matter of pride. For many their loss can cause depression and anxiety that must be taken care of by an expert psychotherapist - or better still by a sports car!
My old pal, Steve, called today, sounding all down in the dumps. "My hair's falling out," Steve said sadly. "So I called my doctor to see if he could give me something to keep it in."
"What did he recommend?" I asked. To which Steve replied, "He said to just use a box."
Poor Steve, like so many other follicly-challenged men his age, he sees the final parting of his hair as a sign that his life is all but over. "It's all downhill from here, man," Steve moaned. "You know how it works. First, you lose your hair, then your teeth, then your bladder control! I might as well go out right now and buy a box of Depends because I'll need them by the weekend!"
"Come on, Steve," I said. "You're being ridiculous." (Mental note: Next time Steve comes to the house, keep him off the new couch.)
When Steve and I were younger, hair was the least of our worries. We came of age in the late '70's, a time when men were men and women were scarce and hair was something we all had plenty of. This was an era influenced by Keith Partridge and Tony Orlando and Grand Funk Railroad and The Bee Gees, who, between them, laid claim to approximately 17% of the world's known hair. Steve and I shared 3%, and the remaining 80% was doled out to everybody else, with most of it going to the inhabitants of the isle of Samoa.
While Steve's coiffure was inspired by the "Elvis Live From Hawaii" poster he had hanging in his room, I sported the official do of the day. My hair was parted perfectly down the middle with microscopic precision, layered back in wings, and hanging down to my shoulders. Styling such a head of hair was a highly technical operation, requiring a steady hand, a keen eye, a stout comb (I used one of those big honkers with a clenched fist on the handle), and sixteen cans of hairspray. I averaged burning up one hair dryer every six days and used so much hairspray that the ozone layer still sends me hate mail. But boy, did I look cool, or at least I thought so at the time. I look back at my 1978 graduation picture now and wonder, "What the hell was I thinking?" I looked like Marlo Thomas after a bad peroxide rinse.
I still have a full head of hair, but I wear it short these days so I don't have to do much to it. Low maintenance hair, my wife calls it. It's not that I've grown lazy. It's that, once the affects of all that hairspray finally wore off, I realized that I only have so much time on earth and spending 1/4 of it with a blow dryer in one hand and a roll brush in the other seemed like an awful waste. But even though I'm not losing my hair, I feel for Steve and other men who are. After all, they are my brothers and I feel their pain. Actually, I'm sitting here with my thumbs in my ears, wiggling my fingers, sticking out my tongue and singing, "Na-a- na- na- na!" I'm sympathetic to your plight, my bald brothers, but in a "better you than me" kind of way. Sorry.
I did my best to make Steve feel better (I felt bad after calling him, "Curly.") I explained that his hair abandoning his head was nothing personal. That's just the way hair works. A man's hair is like a Michigan retiree. It spends forty years working for you atop your head, then, when it's old and tired, it pulls up stakes and heads south, setting up little hair retirement communities all along the way. They sprout up in a man's ears, in his nose, in his eyebrows, all over his back. And I don't even want to talk about those hairy, little buggers that settle in what would be considered the biological equivalent of Miami Beach. There are just some things best left undescribed.
My conversation with Steve did make me wonder how I'll react when my hair finally decides to go. I contacted my friend and well-known haircare expert, Dr. Beechwood A. Jing, Professor Emiritis of the South Hampton Institute of Technology's Hammond-Eggar Anthropological Department, to ask why men are so attached to their hair, especially after it's no longer attached to them.
"Hair to a man is like tail feathers to a peacock," Dr. Jing wisely explained. "A man's hair helps define him as an individual and plays a tremendous part in establishing his sexual identity. Therefore, in a man's eyes, when his hair goes, so goes his manhood. Like a plucked peacock, he may experience a dramatic loss of self-worth and self-confidence, especially where the opposite sex is concerned. Such feelings of inadequacy can lead to deep depression, bouts of paranoia, periods of anti-social behavior, a lifetime membership in the Hair Club For Men - all sorts of horrible things!"
"Dr. Jing, what can a man do to work through these feelings of inadequacy?" I asked.
"They should seek out a licensed psychotherapist to help guide them through recovery," Dr. Jing concluded. "Or they could just take all their money and buy themselves a new Porsche. Nothing diverts attention from a cue ball head like an expensive, German sports car."
Great advice, Doc. I can't wait to tell Curly -- I mean, Steve.
About the Author
From "Small Business Q&A" With Tim Knox Tim Knox is a nationally-known entrepreneur, author, speaker, and radio show host. Tim has helped hundreds of entrepreneurs realize their business dreams.

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