Names on bank accounts don't matter. ASK ME HOW I KNOW.

I have a story to tell you. It's been twelve months in the making because it's taken me this long to get over the trauma.

A combination of time and my go to coping mechanism of humour means I can now make bad jokes about it, but I can tell you at the time I was rocking in the corner.

Lemme take you back to December 2017...

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They say buying a house is one of the most stressful life events and I can 100% confirm this.

We had been looking at houses on and off in our preferred high school catchment. Our record was 13 houses in one day, expertly scheduled by MapGuy. We were having a weekend off looking while we did some Christmassy things and checked out Santa's Enchanted Wardrobe. Spoiler: it was Narnia and it was awesome. While we waited for the kids to finish the last of their play, MapGuy was checking his phone and saw a house in the suburb we were eyeing off was having its first home open... if we left now, with a 25 minute drive, we could get there five minutes before it closed.

Lock and load, baby, let's do it.

We got there and raced in. We liked what we saw. It ticked a lot of boxes. Great, quiet street. Close to public transport. A bit of yard. Four bedrooms. Modern (after renovating we didn't want to do it again!). It was 1.5km from the primary school and 1km from the high school we wanted the kids to go to. It was small and didn't have a pool - tick, tick and tick. We don't like giant houses where you might not see each other for days, and we didn't want a pool because of the hassle and expense, but, you know, feel free to invite me to yours.

A few days later after double checking finance we put an offer in and the agent was pretty dismissive of it, thinking it too low (well duh, it's her job to get them the highest price) but rang back that night to say it had been accepted. That was twelve months ago this week.

It was time to get the finance locked down. This is where shit gets cray. Try to keep up.

My parents had sold us our previous house (they had built it in the 1970s and I grew up in it - you should click this for super cute pictures of Bubba Glow) and our loan was through them. We had about $100k left owing to them. They had just sold their investment property and their home was on the market getting ready for their new house that they'd move to in the new year. So they had a chunk of cash sitting in the bank and my Dad offered to loan us $50k to put a deposit on the house, go toward all the fees, and to get us over the line with the bank loan that wouldn't quite cover the cost of this house we wanted. He'd be repaid the full original loan plus the new loan on the sale of our house, which was expected to be (and was) in early Feb.

With me?

So I told my Dad our bank details and he set about transferring a head spinning FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS to us for this super short term loan.

The transfer should have been pretty quick, but the money wasn't showing up no matter how many times I refreshed.

So we double checked the account number.

You guessed it.

I told him the wrong number.

I was out by one digit.

I can honestly say I have never felt such terror.

My mind started to spin, the room grew dark and I fought off fainting. I could feel my body flush with adrenaline. I retched over and over, standing in my kitchen with my Dad as he too was processing that he'd possibly just transferred a shit tonne of money to a stranger.

I fell to the floor and struggled for air. It was all very dramatic and if I'd started beating my chest no one would have been surprised.

Tricky and Bobbin, had come running on hearing the commotion, and asked what was wrong.

I tried so hard to hold it together.

"I've just lost some of Pop's money so I'm a bit upset."

Bobbin ran off somewhere and Tricky rubbed my back reassuringly and said as many comforting things as he could think of as I sat on the ground with a few tears down my running down my cheeks.

Bobbin came back and handed me the 20c she had gotten earlier in the week.

"Here, Mum, you can have this."

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Yep. All the ugly crying you can imagine. I cried so loud I scared them.

My Dad was holding it together, saying it would be OK, but I could see from the tension in his jaw that he was pissed. And rightly so.

It was past 5pm so I couldn't contact the bank. Even the emergency numbers couldn't help me at all. I texted my bestie and let her know what happened, needing to share the burden with someone. She rang me back immediately (possibly our second ever phone conversation since we are text peeps) and all I could do was sob in to her ear. She spoke quickly but calmly, saying that she was going to put her husband on as he's an accountant.

He reassured me the likelihood of the number being an actual account was super low. He told me all the times that people write down the wrong number on a form, or key it in wrong, and it bounces back after a day or two. Even with garbled replies between sobs, he kept repeating how it was so extremely unlikely that it would go through. And it is unlikely. I'm told the way accounts are set up they generally don't have consecutive numbers, so getting the final digit wrong by one like I did, should be cool in most cases.

There was much crying and wailing over how stupid I was, but this is already going to be a huge story so I'll fast forward to the next morning.

At 5am I rang my east coast Bank #1 to find out what I could do from this end. I needed to know if it was a real account or if the money would ping back like it does 99% of the time. For privacy reasons they couldn't tell me anything and much to their credit they listened to me cry about it. On hearing how much money it involved the person on the phone asked me to tell her the number that had been entered accidentally. She typed it in and I'll never forget what she said:

"Privacy laws prevent me from telling you if this is an account... but I'd get Bank #2 to stop payment IMMEDIATELY if I were you."

Cue breakdown in 3, 2, 1...

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I rang Bank #2 (my Dad had been doing the same thing over at his place) to be informed that that I couldn't speak to anyone in the Accidental Idiotic Internet Transfers Department because they had closed for the Christmas break, but would I like them to call me back on the 6th of January?

The most awful noise I've ever heard escaped my lips and I started to violently shake again. The person on the phone tried to reassure me that it was illegal to spend money accidentally put in an account to which I strangled out between sobs "that.... never.... stopped..... anyone..... beforreeeeeeeeee" at which point I successfully became his weirdest phone client ever.

All I could think was that someone would get a nice $50k bonus in their bank account, withdraw it all, spend up big and we'd spend years trying to get it back and end up with a random $2 a week pay back scheme set up by the court.

Every person I spoke to was genuinely trying to help, but no one could. One even called me back later just to check on me. Which OF COURSE meant I cried some more.

At the same time that this was happening, our loan had not yet been approved because most of the staff at Bank #3 (there are four banks in this story) had gone on leave already and it hadn't even been marked as received yet. The days were ticking away and the day to have finance sorted by was zooming toward us. We had an emergency meeting with our broker who advised us to put in a brand new application with Bank #4 because it was obvious that Bank #3 just didn't give a shit at this time of year.

Thank fuck for that because Bank #4 got on it right away and we had pre-approval in hours and full approval in a day... but without that $50k, we wouldn't be able to do anything.

Insanely, my Dad had another $50k in the bank (if you remember from up the top he'd just sold his house and wasn't buying the new one until Feb, so he had a super healthy bank account for a while there) and said he'd transfer it over.

At this point Bank #2 called me and said "the money has gone in!!". Is that not the best customer service? He'd been monitoring the account, probably out of morbid curiosity. At which point I had to explain it was a different $50k and he no doubt went away mumbling about rich people problems.

Because who has $100,000 that they can just transfer around willy nilly? Usually we don't, it was just this random set of circumstances that meant we did.

I spent my birthday in a pit of despair. I was helping ticket sales for a school function and even pay pass transactions made me nervous. If there was a way for it to go wrong, I'd find it! I would over charge people. Or refund people that weren't meant to be. You name it, if it was bad, I was thinking it.

I was responsible for losing more money than I had ever contemplated. And it wasn't even my money to lose. I'd lost my Dad's money. I forced myself to put on a brave face for the most part, and threw myself in to advent activities for the kids.

The next week I had to transfer money to a friend and I had a genuine trauma reaction when putting the numbers in. Nauseated and trembling I quadruple checked, then quadruple checked again, sweating bullets as I hit transfer on a piddly $20. Thankfully this reaction hasn't continued.

Christmas day came and went, and whilst I do think I faked it well, it was always the first thought I had every morning; the last thought every night; and at least half my waking thoughts each day. It consumed me.

Finally, in the second week of January, when were packing up the old house getting ready to move in a few weeks time, I got the call I'd been waiting for. My Dad informed me the money was back in his account.

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If you take anything away from this, I want it to be that you should not try to buy a house at Christmas time; always check the account number at least fourteen times before you give it to someone or hit transfer; and to never, ever, under any circumstances, lend me money.

I was just trying to be nice, dammit!

On the tail end of #lungsbehavingbadly v2.0 that saw Tricks hospitalized for a couple of nights, Bobbin coughing her lungs up and me sucking back on a puffer every hour, our Ventolin stores were getting super low so I nipped out to the pharmacy while MapGuy was making dinner.

I walked all the way to the back of the store where the meds are, past the makeup, past the bath gels, past the nail polish on special and I did not deviate. Don't succumb to the specials! You can do it! It was like a little chant in my head. You don't need a hair brush, even if it is only $3.50 and guarantees no more tangles.

I grabbed my little blue life savers (as opposed to lifesavers which are much more delicious though less capable of actually saving a life) and headed back through what really has to be the most enormous pharmacy ever built. At the front of the store my resolve was tested. Kid's sunglasses marked down from $12.99 to $5.99. Oooh. They're cute. I'll just have a quick look.

I don't know what it is about kids in sunglasses, or glasses in general actually, but it hits me straight in the ovaries. Oomph. All the cute. I rummaged around and found some funky purple frames with white polka dots. Bobbin didn't neeeeed them, that's for sure, but at $6 I couldn't say no so I grabbed them and lined up at the checkout.

There was an old bloke, Paul, in front of me, counting out his coins, trying to pay for his script. He seemed quite confused and kept recounting. The checkout dude didn't help him, just kept saying he didn't have enough money.

"How much do you need?" I asked.

Paul couldn't tell me how much, just that he had to have this medicine before his operation on Monday. So I looked to rude dude. "He's 80c short".

Oh for fuck's sake. You can't let 80c slide for a confused old bugger?

I handed over a dollar coin.

"Oh, I think heaven has sent me an Angel!" Paul exclaimed.

It was sweet. Then he kept saying it and wanting to tell me all about his surgery he was about to have and I'm all smiling and lovely but inside I'm saying hurry up, Paul.

With his coins in order he then pulled out his key card for the rest of the payment... and it was rejected. He still didn't have enough money. For a $6.10 medication. It was sad.

I was just trying to be nice (but maybe I was also tired of waiting) so I told Paul I'd pay for his script. $6 script, $6 glasses. It wasn't going to break my budget, and this guy needed it more than me.

I placed the sunnies and the Ventolin on the counter while Paul professed to anyone within earshot that I was indeed sent from above.

The previously unconcerned checkout dude was impressed. Well I assume so, because his deadpan expression twitched for a moment. Then he blipped through the sunnies and they came up as $24.95.

"No, those sunglasses are from the sale tub just there" I pointed out. "They're all $5.99"

Checkout dude, who was by now completely over hearing Paul tell the world about his surgery and my fabulousness, just wanted it to be over, so he didn't even blink and started to override the price.

"I'll give you a discount" he said, and rung up a 25% discount on my ventolins. Score.

A face twitch and a discount. Naw, I melted his cold heart after all.

I paid, wished Paul all the best for his surgery that he was still talking about, and extracted myself from the store, feeling pretty damn good about myself to be honest. So damn good that I walked up to the bottle shop and grabbed a bottle of Maker's Mark as a reward. Forgoing the bag, I walked back out in to the centre with the bottle in my hand looking super classy, and glanced down at my receipt from the chemist.

I'd been charged $18.70 for the sunnies.

For fuck's sake.

I headed back to the pharmacy and lined up again.

The checkout dude had no recollection of our previous encounter a whole five minutes earlier, but I figure that when he applied the discount it must have wiped his override price.

He tried a few times to refund me but couldn't figure out how to do it so along came another equally enthusiastic employee with a similar level of job satisfaction who had a few goes.

She was stumped at why the sunnies were scanning at $24.95 yet I'd only paid $18.70.

"But why did she only pay $18.70?" she asked the dude. Silence. He shrugged his shoulders.

Jeezus, does it matter? Either way I was only meant to pay $6, who cares?! The man just stood there, he wasn't forthcoming with any information. Stunned silence. Perhaps he thought he'd get in trouble for an unauthorised discount? Either way, he was not talking.

"He gave me a discount because I'm awesome".

Holy shit, did I just say that? What a bitch. They looked at me blankly.

"Sorry, I was just trying to be nice".

She stared at me (possibly with undead eyes, I can't be sure) and tried again to figure out how to refund me the difference.

"Would it be easier if I returned them?" I asked, looking at my watch? It had been five minutes now and the line of people forming behind me were not pleased. All over a pair of cheap plastic sunnies.

They didn't respond and kept clicking away at the screen.

FINALLY, after three hours (OK, six minutes) I got the difference refunded.

I was just trying to be nice.

After the rigmarole that was their purchase I am now highly encouraging Bobbin to wear them at all times. I'm close to duct taping them to her head.

Leraning how to say no

The universe, or my fairy godmother, or whoever must have been listening to me last week, because no sooner had I said I should have been a teacher, I was asked to interview for an amazing role.

It involved teaching parents of children from different backgrounds (predominantly immigrant, Aboriginal and low socioeconomic, but also any families within a geographical catchment) in the comfort of their own homes, how to be their child's first teacher. Tricky is in the program this year because he's been asking me actual school questions lately and is trying to read (what?!) and I didn't know if I was teaching him properly or going against everything he was learning in kindy. So we enrolled in the program mainly for me to be confident that I could help him.

He loved it. I loved it. To be part of the staff on that program would be amazing. I attended the interview and I left feeling so bloody confident. I'd nailed it. Except for the bit where I said "Roleplay in interviews makes me feel like a dick". Classy, Glow, real classy.

My parents had agreed to look after Bobbin for a couple of hours at a time, but even then, with clients booking in all over the place, it wouldn't have been an easy schedule. My dad, the army dude, needs regimented schedule. My mum just needs to know when she can and can't go out for coffee. It was going to be hard, but they said they'd give it a go.

The next day I went to Tricky's kindy for a Mother's Day Morning Tea. I've never been one to cry at kindy; the idea of my kids growing up and gaining more and more independence doesn't make me sob, it makes me celebrate. No really, because if they're not growing up... yeah, the other alternative isn't so nice. So anyway, I'm sitting at Tricky's kindy and he's winking to me from the "stage" area as they were getting ready to sing us a song. The kid who never sings and never does the dances at school. Get him on a dancefloor and it's a different story, but in a bunch of kids, no go.

He sings. He dances. He waves at me and points directly at me when the lyrics say "I love you". I melt in to a giant puddle and come the closest to crying at kindy I ever have. I'm talking lump in my throat the size of a house. I was so damn proud of that kid, previously paralyzed by shyness and here he was SINGING and DANCING!

If I was working, I might miss out on these little things that are actually HUGE to both him and me. It got me thinking, and as I turned around to pick up Bobbin (who was making a beeline for the home corner), I realized I would be missing out on so much of her first year when I didn't have to. I had so much time with Tricks, and this year with him at school, Bobbin and I get to have one on one time together where she comes first and isn't just being stopped from eating Lego or being moved away from one of Tricky's creations.

She is a handful and then some, but geez, she's good value. She needs her mama. I need her.

On Tuesday, the company called me to offer me the position, and, on Wednesday I formally declined.

I've never turned down a job before. I've never been in the position to. I felt awkward and uncomfortable, wanting to please them and say yes. But the right thing for me, for my family, was to finally learn how to say no. I feel that if I go back to paid work right now that both of my kids would just miss out on so much, and since I'm in the very privileged position to not have to go back, I feel like it would be short changing them, particularly Bobbin.

I take my hat off to you paid-working mamas, and to the paid-working dads, I really do. I couldn't do it.

Spendahoozens

I have my Spendahoozens on. I've been wearing them a lot lately. What are Spendahoozens? Well, I'm glad you asked (although you didn't really because there is a giant image up there, but I'll explain anyway):

In my family, whenever we go on a bit of a spending spree, we say we're wearing our Spendahoozens. You pop down the shops for milk and end up with a shirt, a kettle, a toy car and some weird decorative owl thing because it was gorgeous and 10% off. Shit you don't really need but get anyway. Or sometimes it is stuff you need, but those Spendahoozens aren't as fun.

My Spendahoozens have been on almost 24/7 lately. Fabulously they don't need washing since they're imaginary. Also, they make my ass look great.

I've bought a new (to me) pram (which was actually the wrong pram so now I've gone and bought another one and am selling the original), a nappy bag that I've lusted after for years, an outdoor setting, some play food for the kids, you name it. I don't actually have an income, so this is stuff that I really can't afford to be just buying because PRETTY! And yet here I am. Spendahoozens.

The wearing of Spendahoozens was precipitated by a sudden onset of Affluenza. I've never really had lots of lovely things in a lovely house that feels like mine *cue violins* so now that I do have this gorgeous house with beautiful floors that beg to be rolled on in the nikky naaa, I want the things in it to be faaaaabulous. Affluenza is serious. It kills. OK so maybe not, but still, how much of a wanker am I now? I get a new floor and all of a sudden I want a new lounge suite and dining table to go on it. I annoy myself. People are starving in the world and I'm buying shit I don't need.

I've always been the bargain girl. My clothes are from suburban department stores, not boutiques. My kids dress almost exclusively in hand me downs and I buy toys off Gumtree. I'm a regular at the Op Shops and I wait for sales for everything. We buy food in bulk and meal plan to prevent waste and therefore save money. But, a shiny new bag I'll just buy right now because SHINY NEW BAG!!!

This recent phenomena has come as a shock to many, not least of which, my wallet. My new pink  wallet. As it takes a battering I'm left wondering why I have this sudden urge to spend all the money I (don't) have. Now there's probably a tad of anxiety behind it, but I really think that the Spendahoozens are out in force because compared to dropping $100K+ on an extension and renovation, a $350 second hand pram seems pretty reasonable, really. And that $50 wooden play food set? Chump change.

I need to curb this spending ASAP. Is there an Affluenza vaccine? A trip to Africa perhaps? Help me stop!!!

Do you have Spendahoozens?

Christmas is canceled

You know what I just absolutely love right before Christmas (and therefore right before my birthday because I'm a Christmas baby - have you got me my present yet?)? Unexpected bills.

No I'm not talking about the "Oh I forgot my phone bill was due" or the "Ugh I have to buy presents for my sixteen nieces and nephews because my family are dumb and can't organize a Kris Kringle" type of unexpected, I'm talking about the ones you truly cannot see coming.

Like the $4000+ vet bill we have looming on the horizon.

Last week, Sprocket pulled up one of his back legs and refused to put any weight on it at all. He limped around the yard with giant puppy dog eyes. Which isn't hard since his natural eye state is puppy dog eyes. Considering it was my gardening prowess that removed the weeds from the lawn, the first thought was that I'd missed a spot and he had a prickle stuck firmly in his foot, but we couldn't find anything obvious.

The next day we took him to the vet because he was refusing to walk on it. I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting them to say but it certainly wasn't that poor Sprocket appears to have torn/ruptured/done something to his anterior cruciate ligament. Just like a footballer. Meaning the next bitch he is seen next to at the park will be papped as a wagging WAG.

Our vet has said it was a predictable injury considering he has slightly dodgy doggy hips. He takes after me, obviously. On the bright side, he was having a bloody good time on a 'doggy date' when it happened. If this was inevable inividble inevidible bound to happen, then I'm glad it wasn't just chasing a fucking cat that did it.

He's not in much pain and we are waiting it out to see if it is ruptured or just a bruised badly knee and gets better by itself. Daily anti-inflammatories seemed to be helping for the last week but his improvement has stalled now and he's still not walking properly. On the up side though, for an outside dog he is thoroughly enjoying the vet's order to keep him inside and comfy.

Next step? Handing over a cool grand of cash for scans under anaesthetic because bastard animals can't just hold their breath and keep still like humans. If they find something, they fix it for an extra $3K+.

Since it's the second time our pound puppy has required surgery (first time he had a motherfucking abscess form in his throat - just like I had when I was 16, see I told you he takes after me!), I'm now regretting not getting pet insurance.

Christmas is most definitely canceled.

If it's raining, I can technically spend my rainy day money

This is a sponsored post for Virgin Money

It’s spring time and yet Perth still doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo. It’s freezing and raining one day and then sun burn central the next. We’re like Melbourne but with much less fashion sense. Skinny jeans and thongs, anyone?

One of the cool things about rainy days though is that you can legitimately dip in to your rainy day fund. What?! It’s raining! A technicality, maybe.

OK so I’m not the best at saving money unless of course you count the things that I buy that are on sale. That counts, right? Even though I didn’t actually need that fourth pair of practically identical black shoes for 70% off. Or that basket of pig shaped pegs just because they were buy one, get one free. Or *ahem* almost expired wine for $1 a litre. It’s just that going past a sale is against my religion and I’m extremely devout.

Which is why when I came across the Virgin Saver Account I found a really simple way to save your pennies no matter whether you’re saving for new shoes or a round the world trip. It’s so simple because there are no limits on deposits, it has a great ongoing rate and no fees whatsoever . No, that’s not a typo. No fees whatsoever. With no fees to chip away at your money, you’ll get to your savings goal even faster so Hello Manolo Blahniks or London. Or if you’re really good, Manolo Blahniks from the flagship store in London.

There are full details of the account here but for a quick glimpse, here’s a handy table to show how they compare against some of the others. It’s not quite as handy as, say, a coffee table, but since when does your coffee table give you a high variable interest rate? Hrm?

Virgin Money would like to help support saving initiatives across Australia and to do so they’ve given me some cold hard cash to give away to kick start your fund. I like the sound of that, and really, who wouldn’t like a bit of free money to start a new savings campaign?

For your chance to win $100 credited to a Virgin Money Saver Account all you have to do is fill out the form below and tell me what you’re saving your pennies for right now. A holiday? A new laptop? Pig shaped pegs?

If you don’t win that, never fear, there are also 25 runner up prizes of $25 Virgin Money Saver Accounts!

Are you a spender or a saver? Do you want pig shaped pegs

Full terms and conditions available here

This giveaway is now closed and

winners have been notified 

How Not To Ruin Your Marriage: Lesson Three - Money

Money

Welcome to lesson three of How Not To Ruin Your Marriage. Today we'll discuss the big kahuna... moolah!

The stuff that doesn't grow on trees, that can't buy love or happiness and definitely can't buy a sense of style or taste, can quite easily have you fretting, making stupid decisions and land you in the dog house with your spouse.

I've compiled a list of five tips and tricks, based on my own disastrous experiences, to help you navigate the world of money in relationships:

• When going to buy some 'too good to be true bargain rims with new tyres' (so that you can get rid of the rims and have a new set of tyres), and the seller tells you "Oh no, it's just the rims"... DO NOT BUY THEM BECAUSE YOU FELT BAD FOR THE SELLER! They will just end up taking up valuable space in the shed because really, who the fuck wants a set of Kia rims? Your wife will hold this expensive and yet worthless purchase over you for a long, long time, so best not to do it.
• Don't take the 'out of sight, out of mind' approach to parking tickets. If you settle them when you first get them it will ensure your husband doesn't have to urgently go all the way to the state court to clear it up for you and pay a penalty to stop you losing your license 
• On booking a buck's night, obtain RSVPs before paying out almost $1000 in tickets and transport for the event. When you're left out of pocket by nearly $800 it's likely your wife will make earrings out of your testicles then sell them on Etsy in an effort to recoup the loss
• Check your bank account before doing the grocery shopping lest you be sending frantic texts to your husband asking for a money transfer while the other shoppers gives you death stares for holding up the line right before school pick up time. This simple step not only helps you avoid the embarrassment of a rejected card but also stops you getting cranky at your husband for not getting the message and rescuing you because he was in a meeting earning money so you could buy said groceries
• Try to refrain from sending a picture message to your wife of the car you just bought without any discussion, saying "This is our new car, hope you like green". If you'd like to buy something that large without telling her, put a huge mofo bow on it and voila, not only is it longer an issue, but you're the best husband ever

Can money ruin a relationship? Does anyone want to buy some mint condition Kia rims for $200?

Standing up for my Bloggy self (and why you should too)

I value myself as a Blogger and I value this space and what I have created. And I think, based on some numbers I can see, that other people value this place too.

I generally charge for advertising, sponsored posts, reviews and giveaways. The amount I charge varies greatly on a number of things including how nice the email you sent me was, the value of the product for review, whether you're going to give me a second one as a giveaway and whether or not you want the right to read what I say before I hit publish. I've been told by many Bloggers with similar traffic stats that I'm undercharging, so I guess I still have to work on that self valuing and self esteem a little more.

I don't charge for small businesses of the WAHM/WAHD variety. Some people probably think I should, but I normally don't. I like to think that someone would help my fledgling business out if the Blog was on the other foot. I suppose it's a lame attempt to get brownie points or karma or some shit.

This week I was asked to do a giveaway (not a review, therefore offered no product in lieu of payment) and when I told them my admin fee I received a reply:

Hi Glow,

We are happy to participate in a giveaway where the value of exposure offered is equivalent to the value of the product given. We believe that giveaways are a mutually beneficial as it drives new customers and adds value to your site as everybody loves a giveaway!

We are happy to post products to the winner but have not found it to be standard practice to pay an admin cost.

Thank you for your assistance.

Now I need to point out that this was not for some big ticket item... it was for a downloadable file that the eventual winner would have to print out themselves. So you think a permanent link to your site, a spruiking of your product, promotion through my social media channels with thousands of followers is worth nothing? Fuck off. No, really.

I keep being told "we see it as a win win scenario". The brand win and the reader wins... when do I get to win? Where is my piece of the pie? I LIKE PIE! PIE IS FUCKING AWESOME!

My fear of confrontation means I don't normally speak up so I just delete emails that ask for a serious investment of my time for nothing, and expect to be taken off their "Bloggers To Exploit" list. But I was kinda cranky this time. So I pulled on my grown up pants, embraced my awesomeness and replied:

Hey PR person from a company I won't name,

Perhaps an admin fee is not standard for start up blogs, but Where's My Glow is in it's fourth year now and pulling good traffic and trust capital thanks to consistent quality content, honest reviews, mentions in main stream media and my presence as a speaker at conferences.

I have really good traffic tracking and can tell you that giveaways don't really drive new readers to the blog (but do drive customers to the brand), therefore there is no benefit to me whatsoever to host a company for free on my website, particularly one that obviously has enough budget to hire a PR firm and is offering only a download that the winner would then have to pay to print themselves.

I'm sure you don't work for free to promote a brand, so neither do Bloggers who value themselves. Have a read of this post at Sleepless Nights and this one at Good Googs for more information.

Thanks for your time.

Glow

OK so I kinda talked myself up a bit - I've spoken at two conferences and only had three mentions in mainstream media but IT TOTALLY COUNTS, just ask my mum!

If your only compensation to me is the fact that I get some "fabulous new content" or that having your name on my site "adds value" to the blog then you can bite me. Like a hell of a lot of other Bloggers, I've got content coming out my ears and not enough hours in the day to write it all down. I'm not so desperately scraping the bottom of the creative barrel that doing a giveaway is the only reason I'll have a new post up.

Promoting a brand for free does not pay my bills and it does not "strengthen my relationship" with PR firms. On the contrary, it undermines it and teaches them that using Bloggers as doormats is the way to go. We have to remember that if they didn't think using Bloggers was valuable then THEY WOULDN'T BE PITCHING US. They see the value... but you're the one who has to put a price on it.

If all else fails, maybe we can all just sent them this awesome infographic by Jessica Hische :

Click to Enlarge {Source}

Would you work for free?


Agree? Share this post (yeah, I went there).

Cold Power Wash Smarter Competition

I don't do the weekly laundry in this house... the dashing Map Guy does the bulk of it on a Saturday morning between toddler wrangling and grocery shopping, while I'm having a sleep in. I do nappies and toddler clothes throughout the week, but the rest is all done for me.

It means I've got it pretty good. It also means I can't complain when something goes wrong... like the time he washed my brand new multi coloured skirt with my gorgeous white beaded blouse. Or the time my bra came out of the wash missing an underwire, never to be seen again. I think it went where all the lost socks go.

So I shoved the Cold Power Wash Smarter app in his hands and told him that he should look at it "for blog research purposes". This is win win. I get my clothes washed without turning the whites grey and Map Guy... well, he um, gets knowledge. Knowledge is power. Or Cold Power. Or something. OK, so I come off much better in this scenario than he does.

The app has a heap of laundry tips, a stain guide and even a calculator to show you how much cold hard cash you can save and best of all it's free. Go get it now... I'll wait.

To win a six month supply of Cold Power and a $50 Coles voucher, download the Wash Smarter app and in a comment below tell me
a) What is your favourite Colgate Smart Laundry Tip from the free Cold Power Wash Smarter app, and
b) Describe In 100 words or less your biggest laundry disaster

Make sure you follow Where's My Glow on Facebook to keep up to date with all the latest posts and competitions!

Entry is open to Australian residents only. Make sure you sign in to the comment platform with a valid email address/twitter handle or leave your details as part of your comment so you can be contacted. Entries close at 5pm AEST on Friday 18th of May. Winners have one week to reply to notification, failing that, the prize will be redrawn. Enter glowless@wheresmyglow.com in to your contacts to make sure it doesn't go through to spam!! Full terms and conditions can be found here.