Read Online Put on Your Crown by Queen Latifah - Free Book Online
Authors: Queen Latifah
Tags: SEL021000
Ads: Link
entertained, Dad would give us $10 and send us off to the center of town to spend
the afternoon exploring all the toy shops and dollar stores. That money was to pay for lunch and a drink and bus fare, depending
on how far up the street we got.
We had a blast. It was my dad’s way of teaching us financial independence. He wanted to see how frugal we could be. Ten dollars
could buy you a lot in a dime store thirty years ago, and he was interested to see what kinds of choices we were making about
our spending.
Long Ass Week
I remember getting my first paycheck. I was fifteen, and I found a job at Burger King while I was still in school. I really
wanted that job. There were plenty of fun summer jobs kids could take working in parks and day camps, but this was serious
work, plus I’d get free food. I did everything from working the cashregister to cleaning the toilets. I made $88.46 that
first week. I remember because I knew exactly how many hours I’d worked, and I was shocked by how much of my money went back
to “the Man.” Taxes, Social Security—everyone had to take their cut. I had to ask my mother, “What’s FICA?” “Where did all
my money go?” I gave my mom a couple of bucks, bought myself a mix tape, and put what was left in my savings account. It wasn’t
much, but it felt good, because it was money I earned through my own hard work.
Two years later, the circumstances couldn’t have been more different. I wasn’t even signed to a label yet and my first record,
“Princess of the Posse,” was playing on the radio. I got my first big check, a few thousand dollars, and I blew quite a bit
of it. I even bought gold teeth! My brother and I used to try out these hip-hop looks that were big at the time, with all
the chains and tooth grills, but between us we had only one gold chain, which we had to share, and the rest we had to improvise
with gold foil. But gold teeth? It was ridiculous! I didn’t even get proper ones made at the dentist. I bought them at a jewelry
store in the mall. They were the kind you just snap on. Needless to say, they disappeared within a couple of days. Money down
the drain.
When I was nineteen, I went back to my more responsible ways. I’d just released my first album onTommy Boy Records,
All Hail the Queen
. I had four or five singles out, and Shakim and I were having quite the ride. We were on tour and making first $1,000, then
$2,000, then $5,000 a show. We tried handling all our finances ourselves, sending a third to my mother after our expenses
and putting the rest in our account, but eventually it got to be too much. We found an accountant at a big, reputable firm
in Manhattan to manage our expenses. We thought we were straight, but one day we went to his office to meet with him and he
told us there was no money left in our account.
We were furious. I wanted to kill this guy. How could it be that an accountant—someone who is educated and gets paid extremely
well to provide a professional service—would not at least notify us when funds were getting low? It made no sense. But as
history would later prove, we had a lot more to learn. When it comes to your own money, you can’t assume anything. Even accountants
have to be held accountable. Over the next few years, we went through a couple more accountants who were mediocre at best.
Our current guy is great. He’s professional and honest. But we don’t just leave him to it. We treat our relationship more
like a partnership and talk with him regularly about the state of our finances. We no longer let anything slide.
Money Matters
This isn’t about greed. Handling your business and taking care of your money is an important part of loving yourself. Too
often we live in denial about our money situation. We don’t want to face it. We make emotional decisions about how we spend,
maxing out our credit cards to buy shoes to make ourselves feel good. But it never works because
the afternoon exploring all the toy shops and dollar stores. That money was to pay for lunch and a drink and bus fare, depending
on how far up the street we got.
We had a blast. It was my dad’s way of teaching us financial independence. He wanted to see how frugal we could be. Ten dollars
could buy you a lot in a dime store thirty years ago, and he was interested to see what kinds of choices we were making about
our spending.
Long Ass Week
I remember getting my first paycheck. I was fifteen, and I found a job at Burger King while I was still in school. I really
wanted that job. There were plenty of fun summer jobs kids could take working in parks and day camps, but this was serious
work, plus I’d get free food. I did everything from working the cashregister to cleaning the toilets. I made $88.46 that
first week. I remember because I knew exactly how many hours I’d worked, and I was shocked by how much of my money went back
to “the Man.” Taxes, Social Security—everyone had to take their cut. I had to ask my mother, “What’s FICA?” “Where did all
my money go?” I gave my mom a couple of bucks, bought myself a mix tape, and put what was left in my savings account. It wasn’t
much, but it felt good, because it was money I earned through my own hard work.
Two years later, the circumstances couldn’t have been more different. I wasn’t even signed to a label yet and my first record,
“Princess of the Posse,” was playing on the radio. I got my first big check, a few thousand dollars, and I blew quite a bit
of it. I even bought gold teeth! My brother and I used to try out these hip-hop looks that were big at the time, with all
the chains and tooth grills, but between us we had only one gold chain, which we had to share, and the rest we had to improvise
with gold foil. But gold teeth? It was ridiculous! I didn’t even get proper ones made at the dentist. I bought them at a jewelry
store in the mall. They were the kind you just snap on. Needless to say, they disappeared within a couple of days. Money down
the drain.
When I was nineteen, I went back to my more responsible ways. I’d just released my first album onTommy Boy Records,
All Hail the Queen
. I had four or five singles out, and Shakim and I were having quite the ride. We were on tour and making first $1,000, then
$2,000, then $5,000 a show. We tried handling all our finances ourselves, sending a third to my mother after our expenses
and putting the rest in our account, but eventually it got to be too much. We found an accountant at a big, reputable firm
in Manhattan to manage our expenses. We thought we were straight, but one day we went to his office to meet with him and he
told us there was no money left in our account.
We were furious. I wanted to kill this guy. How could it be that an accountant—someone who is educated and gets paid extremely
well to provide a professional service—would not at least notify us when funds were getting low? It made no sense. But as
history would later prove, we had a lot more to learn. When it comes to your own money, you can’t assume anything. Even accountants
have to be held accountable. Over the next few years, we went through a couple more accountants who were mediocre at best.
Our current guy is great. He’s professional and honest. But we don’t just leave him to it. We treat our relationship more
like a partnership and talk with him regularly about the state of our finances. We no longer let anything slide.
Money Matters
This isn’t about greed. Handling your business and taking care of your money is an important part of loving yourself. Too
often we live in denial about our money situation. We don’t want to face it. We make emotional decisions about how we spend,
maxing out our credit cards to buy shoes to make ourselves feel good. But it never works because
Similar Books
