It’s now two months until tax day, which means that it’s time for some financial paperwork. By that I don’t mean starting my 2018 return–I haven’t even gotten all my 1099s yet–but discarding records from prior years that no longer retain any legal relevance.
This tidying up has sent a raft of old statements and forms into the recycling (with every instance of a Social Security Number torn out for subsequent shredding), and now the file cabinet is no longer packed so tight.
But there are some tax and financial records that I’m keeping even though I no longer have to: the 1040s, W-2s, and checkbooks of my college and post-college years.
Those documents tell a story of a simpler and more painful financial time–an annual income in the low twenties, paychecks with only three figures to the left of the decimal point, ATM withdrawals that rarely exceeded $30, and a checking-account balance that I struggled to keep above $2,000.
(Fortunately, rents around D.C. were a lot cheaper then.)
Being reminded of the cramped state of my finances back then helps me feel better about them today, even after all the lousy things that have happened to the journalism business lately.
But the more important part of this exercise is not cultivating nostalgia but renewing empathy–for anybody who’s living paycheck to paycheck, or who’s just a slow month or a government shutdown away from having their bank balance erode enough to show only three digits to the left of the decimal point.
So very true. The new economy is not serving all of us well.
In disposing of financial documents, I tend to err on the side of caution and shred anything with a name, SSN, or dollar amount.
But you still have paper records? Everything I have since ~2005 is scanned and shredded.
Good idea. I might have scanned them all by now if my WiFi printer/scanner could ever stay online more than 50 percent of the time…
They are pricey but the Fujitsu document scanners are worth it. Everything goes in, then gets shredded. Though, sadly, when the two machines were next to each other I’d sometimes shred something I meant to scan. Now they’re in separate rooms.
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