The last time I flew to New York from Los Angeles, I got off the plane and headed to the cab line and thought: “Wait a minute. The line is huge. And the cab is going to run me about sixty bucks.” I checked Uber, but that was nearly double the cost. So, overcome with a sudden attack of parsimony, I took the train. Bought a Metro card, the whole thing. Transferred onto the A train, headed to midtown, got out on 51st Street, and walked to my hotel, wheeling my suitcase in front of me like a tourist.
When I checked in, they asked, “Do you need any help with your bags, sir?”
And I said, ”No, no, I don’t need any help with my bags. A few years ago, sure, when I was in the middle of a lucrative television studio production deal, I would have pulled up here in a black Town Car and let someone else carry my bag. But these days, I’m trying to live a little simpler, a little smaller, trying to spend my money smarter.”
In my mind. I said that in my mind.
In real life, I just sort of grunted, and a guy came and wheeled my suitcase up to the room while I fussed with the complicated Wi-Fi and kicked myself for only having $20 bills in my pocket — no fives or ones — which meant I was going to look like a big tipper when current economic indicators suggest that I do not and should not belong in that category. You see, I am at the stage in life when I react defensively to bad omens. Sitting in the airport in Los Angeles, I resisted the urge to upgrade my ticket from economy to economy plus because, according to recent polls, nearly 70% of the public thinks the economy is already in a recession.
It doesn’t matter to me that a lot of too-smart-for-their-own-good economists insist that this isn’t the case, that we just think we’re in a recession. I have never understood that distinction. “You just think you’re hungry,” I have been told when I am hungry. “You just think you’re unhappy,” I have been told when I am unhappy. If a lot of people think we’re in a recession, I have news for the American Economic Association: Put your calculators down. It’s a recession.
And then on the plane, I read the recent remarks by Jamie Dimon, the CEO of monster bank JPMorgan Chase. There are potential storm clouds ahead for the economy, he said. Recession is a real possibility, as is “something worse.” That was all I needed to hear to get me out of the taxi line and on to the subway.
In Hollywood, where I make my money — or try to — there is belt-tightening all over town. Productions are being canceled, deals are being trimmed, and there’s a pervading sense that the party is over. “If I ever get one of those fat studio production deals again,” a friend of mine told me recently, “I will do it totally differently. I will respect money.” He was a producer at a major film studio for years, made a lot of big-budget pictures. But a bunch of nice cars, a house in Hawaii, suddenly discovering the joys of private air travel? It all adds up to a pretty hot cash bonfire every month. Which is OK until the bad omens start appearing — recession fears, “something worse,” Netflix losing subscribers, cutbacks at every studio — and you suddenly find yourself pinching your few remaining pennies.
And pinching them in private, because in Hollywood, and in a lot of places, to be honest, it’s important to project a sunny and successful image despite economic headwinds and a rapidly emptying bank account.
The night I got in to New York, I had dinner with some friends and told them about my ride in from the airport. “You took the subway?” they asked. “Really? You? Wow. Is your career in trouble?”
“No,” I said emphatically. “No. I just realized that I used to spend a lot of money on stupid stuff. On luxuries and frills I didn’t really appreciate. And if we’re facing tougher times ahead, I want to live a lot smaller, a lot cheaper, because I don’t know how the next few years are going to be, financially. And that means being a lot more careful about money.”
In my mind. I said that in my mind.
In real life, I told them that taking public transportation had nothing to do with money. I was just trying to do my part for the climate. Which, thank God, they bought.
Rob Long is a television writer and producer and the co-founder of Ricochet.com.
