How To Manage College Finances As A Poor Student?

My mom is an HR professional. She uses KPI to determine my entire life. "If you get into the top ten of your grade, you'll receive a B grade as well as a bonus of 500 dollars. If you can achieve a ranking at a state-level competition, you'll receive an A grade as well as a bonus of 1,000 dollars. Of course, if you can get into a top-tier university after scoring well in your SATs, I'll give you an S+ grade as well as a year-end bonus of ten thousand dollars!" I work my ass off in my studies and manage to earn the offer letter to a top-tier university. But that's when my mom puts a contract in front of me. "Congratulations on getting hired. From today onward, your allowances will be determined by the total of your base salary, KPI, as well as your full attendance award. "Your base salary is 500 dollars. It's to make sure that you won't starve to death, at the very least. In order to help you adapt to workplace stress in advance, I'll check on your progress randomly. If you don't meet my requirements, I'll deduct your salary." When I'm down with a fever of 104 degrees Fahrenheit, my mom deducts my full attendance award, claiming that my physical attributes aren't up to par. In order to catch up on my studies, I've completely forgotten to submit my weekly report to my mom. Because of that, she suspends my allowances. So, I have to sell my blood to a hospital behind her back just so I can survive. At the end of the school term, I show my mom my grades as well as the certificate to my scholarship, thinking that I'll be eligible for the highest KPI and the bonus. But that's when my mom tells me coldly, "The company has decided to give your S+ bonus to your younger brother as a form of investment. After all, he has more potential to achieve better results compared to you." As I gaze down at the 200-dollar consolation prize, I can't help but laugh. It turns out that I'm not even worthy of being recognized as a good employee in my mom's company.

The day my scholarship came through, I was about to send the money to my grandfather in the hospital. Then I suddenly heard a voice. [The Transfer System says that as long as someone eats or drinks something I give them, I can move their money away without anyone noticing.] [Julian just got his scholarship. He'll make the perfect test subject.] [If the transfer works, I can use the money to buy those sneakers I've been wanting.] That voice clearly belonged to my roommate, Caleb Foster. Puzzled, I was just about to turn around to confirm it when a bottle of water was set on my desk. Caleb smiled warmly and said, "Julian, thanks for picking up my package yesterday. Here, have some water." A second later, his delighted inner voice rang out again. [Drink it. Drink it. Once you drink this water, your money will be mine!] Seeing the expectation and greed he couldn't hide in his eyes, fury rose from the bottom of my heart. He knew full well that scholarship was my grandfather's life-saving money. I took the bottle with a blank expression. He wanted to transfer my money away? Then I'd make sure he transferred more than he could handle.

In order to stop me from spending money recklessly, my mom has exchanged my college living expenses into coupons. If I need to buy anything, I must buy it online. Also, I need to send a copy of my expenses sheet and the details behind said expenses to my mom so that she can check everything thoroughly. Only when she's given me her permission can I buy that item. When I tell my mom I want to buy a shirt, she tells me, "I remember you could still wear that shirt back in your high school days. You should just stick with it. Why waste your money on new clothes?" During winter, I can only wear the old sweater I've been wearing since my high school times while huddling in a corner of my dorm and nibbling on a sandwich. Meanwhile, my mom smugly posts a picture of the six-thousand-dollar dress she has just bought on her social media feed. "What a beautiful dress!"

I’ve always taken people literally. When Dad told me to empty the basin, I asked where he wanted me to pour the water. “On my head,” he snapped. So I did. When Mom told me to do the laundry, I asked whether I should add detergent. She gave a cold laugh. “Sure. Add caramel sauce.” So I poured an entire bottle of caramel sauce into the washing machine. Everyone said I was stupid. But this “stupid” guy took first place in a nationwide academic competition. I earned my school’s only direct-admission spot at one of the country’s top universities. The day the results were announced, Lucas Hale, the school bully, ripped my application apart in front of the entire class. “You can’t even understand sarcasm. Why should someone like you get direct admission? “Last night, I saw you get out of a luxury SUV. Who knows what kind of deal you made with the woman inside?” The whole classroom went quiet. Then everyone started looking at me differently. Lucas stood there with a self-righteous expression. “I’m just speaking up for the rest of the class. Why should we work ourselves to death only to lose out to someone who got in through connections?” I thought about it seriously. Then I took out my phone and called my older sister. “Claire, they said I got my admission spot by sleeping with someone. Is that true?” A few seconds later, I held the phone out to Lucas, whose face had gone pale. “My sister wants to know something.” “What’s your name?” “And your student ID number?”

When I was at my absolute poorest, I got sucked into some kind of survival game. The challenge was to survive 7 days on just 50 dollars, and the winner would walk away with a million dollars. As someone who might as well be certified as a professional at being broke, I knew exactly how to survive on next to nothing. That prize money had my name written all over it.

When dorm picks opened, two beds were left. My hometown girl, Chloe Parker, beat me by a step and grabbed Room 501—the honors suite. That left me with Room 502, the rich-girl suite. In 501, the try-hards rode her nonstop. She made grad school. In 502, I ran errands and pulled five grand a month. At graduation, she snapped and shoved me off the roof. "It's all your fault. Without you, I wouldn't wake up every day buried in studying. How'd you stack hundreds of thousands in four years while all I got was a useless grad school offer?" I opened my eyes. Dorm selection day. Behind me, Chloe shoved past and lunged forward. "I'm picking first. I want 502."