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How my family thinks about savings
Charlie Munger once said “I did not intend to get rich. I just wanted to get independent.”
We can leave aside rich, but independence has always been my personal financial goal. Chasing the highest returns or leveraging my assets to live the most luxurious life has little interest to me. Both look like games people do to impress their friends, and both have hidden risks. I mostly just want to wake up every day knowing my family and I can do whatever we want to do on our own terms. Every financial decision we make revolves around that goal.
My parents lived their adult years in two stages: dirt poor and moderately well off. My father became a doctor when he was 40 and already had three kids. Earning a doctor’s salary did not offset the frugal mentality that is forced when supporting three hungry kids while in medical school, and my parents spent the good years living well below their means with a high savings rate. This gave them a degree of independence. My father was an Emergency Room doctor, one of the highest-
stress professions I can imagine and one that requires a painful toggling of circadian rhythms between night and day shifts. After two decades he decided he’d had enough, so he stopped. Just quit. Moved onto the next phase of his life.
That stuck with me. Being able to wake up one morning and change what you’re doing, on your own terms, whenever you’re ready, seems like the grandmother of all financial goals. Independence, to me, doesn’t mean you’ll stop working. It means you only do the work you like with people you like at the times you want for as long as you want.
And achieving some level of independence does not rely on earning a doctor’s income. It’s mostly a matter of keeping your expectations in check and living below your means. Independence, at any income level, is driven by your savings rate. And past a certain level of income your savings rate is driven by your ability to keep your lifestyle expectations from running away.
My wife and I met in college and moved in with each other years before we got married. After school we both had entry-level jobs with entry-level pay, and settled into a moderate lifestyle. All lifestyles exist on a spectrum, and what is decent to one person can feel like royalty or poverty to another. But at our incomes we got what we considered a decent apartment, a decent car, decent clothes, decent food. Comfortable, but nothing close to fancy.
Despite more than a decade of rising incomes—myself in finance, my wife in health care—we’ve more or less stayed at that lifestyle ever since. That’s pushed our savings rate continuously higher. Virtually every dollar of raise has accrued to savings—our “independence fund.” We now live considerably below our means, which tells you little about our income and more about our decision to maintain a lifestyle that we established in our 20s.
If there’s a part of our household financial plan I’m proud of it’s that we got the goalpost of lifestyle desires to stop moving at a young age. Our savings rate is fairly high, but we rarely feel like we’re repressively frugal because our aspirations for more stuff haven’t moved much. It’s not that our aspirations
are nonexistent—we like nice stuff and live comfortably. We just got the goalpost to stop moving.
This would not work for everyone, and it only works for us because we both agree to it equally—neither of us are compromising for the other. Most of what we get pleasure from—going for walks, reading, podcasts—costs little, so we rarely feel like we’re missing out. On the rare occasion when I question our savings rate I think of the independence my parents earned from years of high savings, and I quickly come back. Independence is our top goal. A secondary benefit of maintaining a lifestyle below what you can afford is avoiding the psychological treadmill of keeping up with the Joneses. Comfortably living below what you can afford, without much desire for more, removes a tremendous amount of social pressure that many people in the modern first world subject themselves to. Nassim Taleb explained: “True success is exiting some rat race to modulate one’s activities for peace of mind.” I like that.
We’re so far committed to the independence camp that we’ve done things that make little sense on paper. We own our house without a mortgage, which is the worst financial decision we’ve ever made but the best money decision we’ve ever made. Mortgage interest rates were absurdly low when we bought our house. Any rational advisor would recommend taking advantage of cheap money and investing extra savings in higher-return assets, like stocks. But our goal isn’t to be coldly rational; just psychologically reasonable.
The independent feeling I get from owning our house outright far exceeds the known financial gain I’d get from leveraging our assets with a cheap mortgage. Eliminating the monthly payment feels better than maximizing the long-term value of our assets. It makes me feel independent.
I don’t try to defend this decision to those pointing out its flaws, or those who would never do the same. On paper it’s defenseless. But it works for us. We like it. That’s what matters. Good decisions aren’t always rational. At some point you have to choose between being happy or being “right.”
We also keep a higher percentage of our assets in cash than most financial advisors would recommend—something around 20% of our assets outside the value of our house. This is also close to indefensible on paper, and I’m not recommending it to others. It’s just what works for us.
We do it because cash is the oxygen of independence, and— more importantly—we never want to be forced to sell the stocks we own. We want the probability of facing a huge expense and needing to liquidate stocks to cover it to be as close to zero as possible. Perhaps we just have a lower risk tolerance than others.
But everything I’ve learned about personal finance tells me that everyone—without exception—will eventually face a huge expense they did not expect—and they don’t plan for these expenses specifically because they did not expect them. The few people who know the details of our finances ask, “What are you saving for? A house? A boat? A new car?” No, none of those. I’m saving for a world where curveballs are more common than we expect. Not being forced to sell stocks to cover an expense also means we’re increasing the odds of letting the stocks we own compound for the longest period of time. Charlie Munger put it well: “The first rule of compounding is to never interrupt it unnecessarily.”
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