Be Sensible? Ask a Genie

Here's our Genie-in-Residence, once again, to grant your pleas for sound advice.

Dear Genie,
I've managed to save a little money, and now I have a friend who's telling me I should invest it, while another friend says I need to travel while I have the chance. Whichever I choose, I'll disappoint one of them. Traveling sounds like much more fun, but investment is surely the sensible choice. Do you have advice for someone trying to balance "fun and frivolous" against "wise and practical?"
Signed,
On the Fence

Dear Humpty,
I hope you like "it depends," because that's what I'm cooking.

First of all, I'm a genie, not a financial advisor. With a genie, you don't have to choose between fun and practical. Even with a one-wish guy like me, "fun now and money later" is a fair play. Should you meet a genie, don't self-limit your options. If you ask for too much, I'll tell you.

Perhaps the same is true of your small fortune, but you'd know better than I would. Assuming you have to choose, let's look at a few different wishes, and see if we can learn anything.

For a human being, the least practical wish might be the addition of a tail, and yet I know a surgeon at an out-of-the-way clinic who's performed thirty ouraplexies in the last year. (You'd be surprised at the body's readiness to accept a tail. The nerves are there and waiting, and the brain takes to it like an old habit.) I can only think of one wisher who regretted their tail, and that was because she slammed it in a door. Remember, tail-wearers have to get their trousers custom-made. They can't even sit in regular chairs. Their lives are full of unique annoyances, and yet they love their tails. I'll ask a new tail-haver what they like about their tail, and they always look at me like I'm slow. "I have a tail," they'll say, as if it were self-explanatory. I spoke with one old woman, who'd had her tail for sixty years, and I asked her if she'd trade it for a million dollars. "Never," she said. I asked her why. She could only say, "If you had a tail, you'd understand."

On the other end of the frivolous axis, it's rare to find a person deeply satisfied by a wish for a motorcycle. Which isn't the motorcycle's fault, mind you—the problem is the wishing. Most people, in most places, could get a motorcycle, given a bit of persistence. They might have to build it up from parts, but they could do it. So a person who's captivated by motorcycles—the one whose heart will beat for their motorcycle—usually has one before I meet them. A guy asking me for a motorcycle is most often in the thrall of a passing fancy.

(Please don't think I'm saying, "If you really wanted your wish, you'd already have it." That's not what I mean. But do consider that your heart's desire might be within reach.)

Frivolous wishes, if you can ever call a heart's wish "frivolous," are often my favorites, because they're motivated by curiosity, passion, or pleasure. Yet they do require you to know yourself. There's nothing sadder than a wisher, who could have wished for money, asking for a zeppelin, to soon discover that they can't stand heights. There's little resale value in a zeppelin, let me tell you.

As to "sensible" wishes, it's hard to explore those without unearthing a pile of contradictions. Happiness is a worthwhile pursuit, and happiness now beats happiness later. (Ask an actuary.) But unhappiness later is a problem you can tackle now. Most people would rather be poor and young than poor and old. Plus, the earlier you bank a chunk of change, the more it may be worth in time. On the other hand, there's a reason we use the term "rat race" for endless drudgery in pursuit of unrealized pleasure.

Here's one thing I know for sure: If true love is your heart's desire, wish for money, too. Romance loves a bank account, and strains under the weight of unpaid bills. Any fun to be had indoors is more fun when the roof isn't leaking.

Returning to your question, On the Fence, perhaps you should test your assumptions about fun and sensible. Travel is quite a thrill, but it's also highly practical. You get to learn things, make friends abroad, and practice your adaptability, all of which is valuable in the nickel-counting sense. Meanwhile, an investment portfolio could leap into the fun category if you close your eyes and imagine the delightful ways you could spend the interest.