like this: having an awesome bank account is a self-confidence thing. It's the little wins — the habits you build — that strengthen your confidence.
Or think of it like surfing: sure, you have to paddle a bit at the start (with a freaking wine in your hand), but once you catch that wave, you can relax and let it carry you home.
How did you get your current bank account?
Maybe it was your parents' bank.
Maybe it was bundled with your home loan (they probably called it a ‘package’).
Maybe you were a Dollarmite (more on this in Step 3).
If you're dealing with one of the Big Four banks, there's every chance you're getting screwed. Earning zero per cent interest is like sooo noughties.
So let's get into it.
Now, I'm not just going to waffle on about generic accounts — we're in this together, so I'm also going to show you exactly the accounts I used myself.
I'm going to take you through them one by one, and at the end I'll put it all together for you in a simple ‘menu’ for you to follow when you go on your first Barefoot Date Night.
Banishing bank fees from your life forever
‘What do you look for in your banking relationship?’ a bank executive once asked me.
‘I'm sorry, but I'm just not looking for a relationship with a bank right now,’ I told him, and then added, ‘it's not me, it's you'.
I am not loyal to any financial institution.
Banks are giant corporate octopuses with tentacles that wrap around you and squeeze out as much money as they can.
In 2020, the average Australian household was getting whacked $395 a year. Makes sense when you think about it — how else could four businesses make $30 billion a year in profits in a country with just 25.5 million people?
Rant over.
The bottom line is that it doesn't pay to be loyal.
What you need from your bank is a dead-simple, zero-fee solution.
Spare me all the convoluted ‘Terms & Conditions’ and fine print: ‘If you deposit $125 a month and don't withdraw it for 3 years, we'll pay you a bonus 0.16 per cent for the first 2 months, at which time it will revert back to our standard variable rate’.
Huh?
Just give me zero fees. As in doughnuts. None. Ever.*
(*And that includes no ATM fees. Ever.)
I don't care if I'm at one of those weirdly named convenience stores that has one of those weirdly named ATMs charging you an arm and half a leg to get your dough. Not my problem. I'm not paying for it.
Contrast this with what happened a few years ago to a friend of mine who banks with ANZ. I spent 30 minutes with him one night trudging around the city in the rain looking for his ATM: ‘I swear it was on the corner of Collins and Swanston!’ he moaned while I stood there shivering, hating him.
My zero-fee everyday transaction account
If you had stolen my wallet back in 2016, here's what you'd have found:
A picture of me and my golden retriever, Buffett, frolicking on the grass, and …
My ING Orange Everyday debit card.
At the time, this was a corker of an account. Maybe it still is. (And remember: I got paid nothing for that mention. I'm fiercely independent and have no tie-ups with any financial institution, whatsoever.)
I chose that account because it had zero fees. As in none. Not even when you're overseas.
Whip out your phone and do a quick search to find the best deal right now.
Zero fees. That's what you're looking for. Google it.
In fact, I like this kind of account so much I want you to set up two of them.
And I want you to give them nicknames (this is easy to do with online banking — just ask your bank if you're not sure how it works).
Call one ‘Daily Expenses’ and the other ‘Splurge’. Trust me on this — exactly why I'm asking you to give them these nicknames will be revealed in Step 2.
Any downsides to look out for? Well, you might find that you need to deposit a minimum amount into one of the accounts every month. You can easily make this your wage, for example, straight into ‘Daily Expenses’.
Since this book has sold a truckload of copies, there are plenty of banks piggybacking off the buckets set-up. A quick google will reveal who they are.
Steal my wife's purse
Now if you stole my wife's purse … she'd be very upset.
And you'd find the same debit card as mine (and a lovely picture of our family — no dogs).
See, one of our iron-clad rules is that we keep the same account.
No, not like cute matching cards so that we're colour coordinated. And no, not just one card between us. (That would be weird: ‘Honey, I'm just popping down the shops. Can I have the card?’)
What I mean is that we have separate cards for the same bank accounts.
And, most importantly, we have an agreement that we can each spend up to $400 on whatever we choose. No need to ask for permission. Anything over that we talk about, and make a joint decision.
(And that's a good thing. Personally, I am deeply offended by how much her hairdresser charges. My barber hasn't changed his ‘$20 short back and sides’ pricing in 15 years. Though, admittedly, she looks a lot better than I do.)
It's my firm belief that if you're in a healthy, trusting relationship, you should be sharing the same bank account, and all your finances.
That said, I've sat across the table from many women (and yes it's almost always women), whose partners have used money as a form of control. One of the first things I do is help them to set up a separate escape fund, so they can (eventually) get the hell out of there. If you think this could happen to you, don't share any accounts.
If you're already in this situation, I strongly suggest you sit down with a financial counsellor (call 1800 007 007) and get a game plan sorted.
Get some interest, brah!
You need to earn a decent interest rate on your savings. Granted, when interest rates are low, earning enough interest each year to buy a soap on a rope is almost mission impossible.
Yet that doesn't mean you should keep all your dough in your everyday transaction
