Angela Mollard: How revealing my financial hole gave me agency over my own life

If Meghan Markle can out herself as someone who halves raspberries, Angela Mollard can reveal how she’s digging herself out of a financial hole – and having agency over her own life.

On the first day of this year I woke up feeling deeply worried. Since the pandemic my income had more than halved, I had a post-Christmas credit card debt I couldn’t pay off and in March my mortgage repayments would come off a fixed rate, jumping from $3400 a month to $4500.

As I made some tea my phone pinged. It was an invitation to a friend’s birthday celebration.

Lunch at a seaside restaurant where the cheapest wine is $70 a bottle. I couldn’t afford to go.

Self-pity is a quality I’ve worked hard to eradicate but this was something else.

Of course, I had my health and a roof over my head but to be struggling financially in my 50s felt like the ultimate failure. What I felt that day was shame.

Perhaps some of you are the same. Money is a taboo topic and when you suddenly find yourself struggling – even if you’re not on the breadline but a fraught member of the financially flailing middle-class – it’s uncomfortable.

So I’m going to be both vulnerable and candid here. If Meghan Markle can out herself as someone who halves raspberries, I can reveal how I’m digging myself out of a financial hole.

Meghan Markle in her new Netflix series, Meghan.

Before Covid I was earning $200K a year but, hell, I worked hard for it.

As a freelancer, I never said no to a job. I worked weekends, evenings and holidays. My industry, though contracting, rewarded those who were tenacious and delivered. As a single mum, I secured a mortgage on that income.

Artificial intelligence (AI) is helping to eviscerate journalism. Picture: iStock

But just as video killed the radio star, AI and cannibalistic social media platforms have eviscerated journalism. As a top TV executive told me recently, AI will soon be able to deliver a full documentary or obituary on a celebrated Australian with the push of a button.

Now I earn less than the average Australian gross salary of $100K a year. My punishing mortgage takes more than half my earnings.

But as my partner said as we sat on the beach on January 1, the worst thing I could do was nothing.

He’s been reading finance books since the Barefoot Investor was in nappies. “You’re your own best resource,” he told me. “It might be time for a second job.”

When looking for a second job, training as a pilates instructor would give me free access to those expensive classes. Picture: iStock

We debated the options. Becoming a barista would suit my friendly temperament but training as a pilates instructor would give me free access to those expensive classes. I’ve also had a long-held later-life dream of working as a counsellor. Could I afford to do the post-grad diploma?

But I needed to increase my income and decrease my spending faster than that.

I could rent out my house and rent somewhere cheaper for me and my younger daughter, but what if I put a spare bedroom on Airbnb? It wasn’t ideal and would require some sacrifices but it was a quick fix.

My first guest arrives on Tuesday, the day the new mortgage rate blows up my cash flow.

I also did a budget. Cancelling subscriptions for Audible and Zoom was easy; culling access to some international publications a little harder.

A chat with my insurer has reduced the premiums a little and I’m about to ditch my telco for a cheaper alternative.

I’ve cancelled my fortnightly cleaner, created a savings account specifically for holidays (likely camping), and planted a herb garden because $3.50 is ludicrous every time you need a sprig of mint.

As for clothes, I’ve stopped following those who showcase their extensive wardrobes on Instagram and, despite appearing on Seven’s Sunrise and The Morning Show, have risen to the challenge of mixing my existing wardrobe with great op shop finds.

A woman recently complimented my orange shirt – er, $6 from Salvos – and when Edwina Bartholomew asked me where my dress was from, I didn’t like to say it was $25 from Oz Sale.

When I needed new running shoes, I went for my favoured brand in a boring colour because they were $100 less than the new season styles. Manicures and eyelash tints are self-administered. At my last haircut I had more taken off than usual.

Theatre tickets are now a birthday gift from my girls, eating out is a rarity and I’ve ditched pilates in favour of pickleball with mates at $6.50 an hour.

Elderflower cordial with soda water is the poor woman’s gin and tonic, homemade lentil dahl the ultimate cheap eat and, as the Duchess of Sussex has exclusively revealed, you can trick up store-bought hummus with a splash of olive oil if friends drop in for a drink.

Fancy cheeses are out of the question.

But more than anything, I’ve learned that I have agency over my own life. Bizarrely, I’ve enjoyed taking command, plotting a solution and tweaking where I can.

I’ve also been as honest with those I love as I’m being here. I told my friend I couldn’t make the January birthday because I couldn’t afford it.

“Everyone’s in the same boat,” came the reply. “We’re having it at home. Can you bring dessert?”

ANGE’s A-LIST

Egg-static

My mate Jules made up a recipe for omelettes filled with pre-cooked prawns, minced pork and Asian coleslaw. For great egg batter mix 4 eggs, a dessert spoon of rice flour, a splash of soy and sesame oil and half a small can of coconut cream. Garnish with chilli, coriander and fried shallots.

Prime Talent

I can’t get enough of Leo Woodall. Since season two of White Lotus he’s excelled in One Day, Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy and now Prime Target (Apple), where he plays the best on-screen maths genius since Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting and Russell Crowe in A Beautiful Mind.