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PDF Editor FAQ

What do people spend a six figure salary on?

I am a 26-year-old Software Engineer earning close to 95000 per month in Bangalore.I’ll try to be as informative as possible to ensure that this answer gives you a fair idea of a decent financial plan.Before we proceed further, one must know, what purpose does our salary serve?Needs - Food, Clothing, and ShelterObligations - You owe it to someone.Safety Net - If things go south I am still going Right.Fun - Bring it on.Let’s see how this can be achieved with proper planning.Needs - 30KThough currently, I am living in my hometown, my personal monthly expense including rent does not exceed 30K. This covers everything from groceries, phone bills to upskilling.Due to WFH, this is going to the emergency fund these days.Obligations - 30KSend to dad to notify him that salary is credited :)Safety Net/Investment - 30KSIP - 15KThis is where you see the money making money.Health and Term Insurance - 3KThis handles the dangers you can’t see.Make sure your complete family is covered under some or the other health insurance.PPF - 2KA good exercise to see how compounding works.Emergency Fund - 10KLet it accumulate and sleep peacefully.Bonus tip - Make a sweep in FD.Where’s the fun part? - 5KNever reveal what you do with it.Use it to party, donate, help your friend, or spend on that special one. This is yours and you should spend without accounting.Now, here are some unnecessary pieces of advice.FD: Put some amount in FD because it’s less volatile and for your dad’s satisfaction.Gold: Buy some gold, the pure one. Read it again I am saying gold not jewelry. And don’t be attached to it i.e. be willing to sell when you think the time has come. Your mom will be happy here.Credit card: If you know how to use it, use it else just have it. Sometimes when the emergency strikes a card can swipe you through. Make sure it does not have much of annual charges.House, Car and Marriage: No one has escaped this. Be very very cautious because one mistake and you will find yourself in the debt trap. Do not try to please anyone. If you still are not serious about this look at the answers under the question What is the biggest financial mistake you've made? Thank me later.Quick guide on how to start your planning?After your unavoidable monthly expenses are met, save for emergency funds. Three months of your monthly expense (not salary) is good to start saving at first. Be aggressive at the start.Once you are done with point one, you can reduce it a bit and start fulfilling your obligation like a loan or send it to your parents.After that, opt for health insurance. Cover the members first who are not covered by the employer like your mother, sister, or brother. Eventually, you need to have everyone covered. Take your time here as this needs a very conscious effort in reading and opting for one insurance.Then you can opt for term insurance, investment options as per your goals and keep re-balancing.Note that, you won’t get everything correct at the start. Like you may invest more in the stock market, or choose the wrong insurance plan, or allocate too much in the PPF, or copy someone badly. But if you will keep pursuing it you will figure out what fits for you.Also, do not think that you may not be able to save if you are not making close to a six-digit salary. If you plan and start with less you will be nailing once you reach close to six-digits. Consistency is the key here.Can you guess what can still go wrong and fail this whole plan?This answer may give a sense that everything is taken care of, but one common mistake and you will watch this crumbling. See if you are making the same one.Not UpSkilling:I always believed that the skills at work will be taught/learned at work. But oh man I was never wrong than this. They teach you just enough and enough is never enough. Just imagine a scenario if you are not pushing yourself enough, and you lose the job or your tech stack is redundant. That may affect your physical and mental well being and the rest of the things start to crumble one by one.So,How do I earn more? - UpSkillHow do I save more? - UpSkillHow do I bring stability to my Job? - UpSkillHow do I feel confident? - UpSkillHow do I UpSkill? - Well that’s for homework :)Sorry for the long and a bit diverted answer, but I really wanted to have something in it for you, I hope it was worth your time.Feedback and Suggestions are welcome.

Why do British soldiers and Royal Marines dislike the RAF so much?

**note - just to be clear, I’m being pretty general here and so have missed the well made points that there are bellends in the other services (met plenty, likely I’m one myself), that the RAF do a great job, that you can find a cushy role in another force etc.I’ve served with the RAF, my grandad was bomber crew and these are the things we’ve discussed amongst ourselves and they’ve agreed with! If the question had been ‘why are people who slate the RAF wrong’ I could write just as truthful a defence of them**The armed forces work hard. Really hard. So hard that a civilian could never comprehend it.In return they get a lot of pride in themselves and their uniform and respect from people they’re senior to. They also have a lot of respect for senior ranks who’ve done all of this for a lot longer than they have.They are humble and don’t whinge (well, they do whinge - it’s a great pastime but they quickly find the humour in it). They might do an extraordinary, superhuman thing before breakfast and not mention a word of it apart from if something particularly amusing happened.In comparison to other people in the armed forces I had it cushy really but even I found the RAF extraordinary in their soft culture and attitudes.Some in the RAF are basically civilians playing at being the armed forces. I’ve worked with a lot of them and on the whole, if they realise they have it really easy in comparison, they’re really decent human beings. In fact, the best ones were the ones who understood and revelled in how cushy they had it and ribbed you for joining your particular service.In comparison to the Army/Navy, they were treated pretty well, got to set up a family life (kind of), were fed well and listened to by their superiors. Basically they were (are?) run as civilians would expect the armed forces to be run. I would want my daughter to join them over any other service.It’s when they start acting like they’re in the real armed forces and complaining about what they have to put up with/how magical they are that they bring shame and derision on the rest of their service. I met only a few like this who ‘gave it the big one’, usually a RAF Regiment fantasising about being Rambo whilst guarding his gate against rowdy sheep in Lincolnshire 😂So I think the dislike is generally a ‘why do they get a nice easy life when we have to put up with this shit every day?’ rather than disliking them as individuals. Like the kid brother who gets away with everything/special treatment. You still love them but they wind you up.Some first-hand examples of their cushy lifeIt was an evening in spring. We were tasked to pick up a couple of casualties off a mountain in Scotland in our Royal Navy helicopter. We’d already been on two other jobs that day immediately beforehand, hadn’t eaten and had been up since 3am.It was a tricky job and as the RAF helicopter was in the area they offered to help out.I winched the most serious casualty up to our helicopter then winched down to see to the rest but told our helicopter to go as the hospital was only 5 minutes away and I’d take the rest up on the inbound RAF helicopter.When I winched onboard the RAF helicopter the difference with our cab was stark. Brand new kit, absolutely gleaming and even a hot water boiler thing to make wets (tea/coffee) with. Our main role was anti-submarine warfare so our kit was shoved in any gap we could find and the monitors were old donations from thankful rescuees.Once we’d got the casualties off and into hospital we were about to set off back to base when the RAF helicopter said they were shutting down and going out for dinner on the flight credit card as they’d been flying for 2 hours and they were peckish. Our jaws hit the floor.We ended up going with them in the end and them paying for us after the P1 had a very heated argument with the senior engineer back at base explaining we’d been flying over 12 hours and hadn’t eaten in 24 - we’d never have dreamed of doing this if they hadn’t been there and shown us the light!The RAF crew were nice blokes but, just… entitled in a way we could never behave like. We generally just put up and shut up. Our going was a small act of rebellion.2. My first day on an RAF base as the only sailor. I see a female CORPORAL, WALKING CASUALLY ALONG WHILST SMOKING IN UNIFORM and TAKING A SHORTCUT ACROSS GRASS.I can’t tell you how much I instinctively feared for her soul. I thought she’d lost the plot.The Station Warrant Officer spotted her, shouted and I got the proverbial popcorn out to watch what I thought would be a marching off to the guardroom.But nothing. She tutted and took a slightly shorter route.The SWO just shook his head in a resigned manner. Unbeleivable.3. Two young SACs just passed training in the que for evening scran at the same base. One complained to the other that the food was rubbish and he wanted to go to the NAAFI instead.I got to the front and it was like nothing I’d ever seen in an Army or Navy base. Junior rates had a banquet! Freshly baked pastries for duff, several well cooked options for main, bread rolls, side salads the lot!Some more examples - not mine!…and of course we can’t forget the elite RAF Regiment’s 5 Miler! 😂😂😂

What did you do with your wedding gown?

Donated wedding gowns give families peace when infants dieThis is one of those questions that when it pops up in my feed, the universe has decided it is time to share another of my adventure's. I have already discussed in more detail than I probably should have, the circumstances surrounding my first disastrous attempt at marriage. For those who missed it or need a refresher, here is a link to the post.Colleen Anne Coyle's answer to What innocent-seeming picture is actually heartbreaking?The months after my return from Syria remain a blur almost twenty years later. The embarassment of having to notify friends and loved ones who continued to send belated wedding gifts was at times overwhelming. I thought the right thing to do was to return the gifts and money along with a handwritten note thanking them for their generosity and support during this difficulty period. To my surprise, many responded with offers of support, love and money to help me start the process of rebuilding.Unable to sleep at night and keep the demons at bay, I spent hours as others slept compling information, photos, valuations for insurance claims. No one understands better than I, the loneliness and isolation of being awake as the rest of the world sleeps. Bills continued to pile up and multiply as I had maxed out every credit card for the wedding that wasn't and the hasty retreat back to the States. In my naivete, I assumed that living in a country where credit cards were not accepted, and the cost of living was a mere percentage of that in the States, would give me the time to pay them off rapidly. Definitely another poor decision in a sequence of many.Once I established how catastophic my financial situation really was, I started the process of negotiating payment plans, paying off in full what I could and trying to juggle everything else. Next, I began the tedious process of filing insurance claims with my carrier for all the damaged, destroyed, and stolen goods that were confiscated by the government when I left Syria so hastily. This turned out to be the easiest process of rebuilding. I had renter's insurance that essentially covered everything. A lifetime of memories, small momentos, gifts, family heirlooms, antiques collected as I aged and all the recently purchased essentials I just had to have for my new life in Syria. The few items not covered by my insurance, ended up being covered under insurance thru the shipping company and United States Post Office.It only took a few weeks for the checks to arrive after my claims were processed. I remember the day as if it were yesterday. Tropical Storm Bertha deluged South Florida. I remember being handed the mail, opening it, dropping it to the floor and running outside into torential rains. The pelting rain hid the tears that I had not shed since leaving Syria. The tropical force winds cloaked my cries and heartbroken screaming as for the first time I allowed myself to voice the grief, anger and frustration bottled up for so long. No one came out with an umbrella or to drag me inside. Loved ones and friends were relieved that I finally gave myself permission to grieve and feel.A fierce hurricane season is just about overI woke the next morning to downed palm trees, no electricity and a flooded lanai and pool. But it was all manageable, life became manageable once more. After helping neighbors clean up and set up generators to keep food from spoiling and dragging grills into the street to cook what couldn't be saved, I began to appreciate and enjoy the small triumphs. I found and rented an apartment tucked up into the tree line, giving the impression of living in a tree house. I began trolling garage sales, flea markets, consignment shops and antique stores to equip the next phase of my life. I started new collections, carefully curating china, silverware, mirrors, artwork and collectibles that in no way shape or form resembled anything I previously owned.There was still one gigantic elephant hiding in a closet- the wedding gown, dried silk bouquet and crown with floor length satin ribbons dyed to match the stunning embroidery on the gown's bodice. From the moment I saw it, I was in love ( perhaps borderlined obsessed) with the gown. It had been waiting on the rack in a small couture boutique in Boca Raton for over a year, for me. Ivory satin with stunning colored and embroidered flowers and vines, it was perfect and within a few hours mine. An exclusive florist a few doors down, designed the most beautiful silk bouquet with matching ribbons, as well as a matching crown. The ribbons trailed down the back of the gown and train, in place of a veil.I knew I couldn't sell the gown. I just couldn't risk the bad karma or vibes being passed onto another. I couldn't destroy it or toss it in the trash. It was truly a work of art that needed to be shared, I just didn't know how or where. I also knew I couldn't take it with me or abandon to a dark corner of a storage shed. The day before I moved into my new apartment, it hit me. I knew exactly what to do with the gown and accessories.A local charity was looking for silk flower arrangements to adorn the graves of those who died in miliary service. While not in the traditional red, white and blue, I knew that I wanted my bouquet to adorn the headstone of a female veteran, a final tribute of beauty for a life of sacrifices. I grabbed the box, walked the two miles to the organization and dropped off my bouquet. Those present were shocked at my request and donation. Rather than place it in a bin with others, one woman grabbed a set of keys, said let's go and drove us to a small cemetary in Coral Springs. After a few minutes, we stopped in front of a small weathered headstone with the partial name of a woman who had served and died in Vietnam. We cleared the weeds and other debris, set the bouquet in a small metal vase and draped the crown and ribbons on top of the headstone. For the first time since returning, I genuinely smiled. Even if it only remained a day or so before the weather or a bunch of kids removed it, she was honored with a simple gesture for a sacrifice made decades earlier.As we left the cemetery, we encounted a heart breakng scene. A young couple burying their stillborn infant in a simple box, no pomp and ceremony as they could not afford even the simpliest of burials. I couldn't imagine their grief, sorrow heartbreak in interring a life with unfilled promise and joy. I ran back to the headstone and grabbed the crown & ribbons. As mouners gave their final respects, I stood in line approaching the casket. I laid the crown on top of a small white box and arranged the ribbons as best I could. I wanted her to have an item of beauty to carry with her into the afterlife. It was all I had to offer, I never stopped to consider if it was something her grieving parents and loved ones would have approved of.As we left the cemetery, several relatives stopped in front of the car. Thanking me for my simple gesture, they described their sadness that there wasn't enough time or money to give the little girl the burial she deserved. One mentioned an organization that provided Angel Gowns- burial gowns fabricated out of donated wedding gowns and small satin pouches for the parents to treasure the few small remainders of their little one. There were organizations and branches spread throughout the state and country. In this instance, local chapters had exhausted their supply of donated gowns.Returning home, I jumped on the internet, wrote down the mailing address, grabbed the box and biked to the nearest collection center a few miles away. I handed the box over to the receptionist.[1] As I turned to leave, I heard a series of gasps. Some didn't want to cut up the gown- it was a work of art, too beautiful etc. However, one woman already had a plan to maximize the embroidery and ensure that each new burial gown would contain a snippet of the artwork.Donated Wedding Dresses Are Being Made Into Angel Gowns For Families Who Lost BabiesIn the end, the seamstresses were able to fashion 6 embroidered gowns and matching satin pouches. There was a little left over fabric that would be used for lining in two.coffins. I don't know who ever recieved the gowns- it's better that way. The only comfort I could take away from the experience was knowing that those denied their first breath would be dressed and swaddled in beauty and comfort. Having never lost a child, I cannot imagine the continued heartbreak and sorrow, knowing you are financially unable to provide your angel with even the most basic of burials. At least as time goes on, they would have that elegant pouch to hold onto the fragments of a life never lived.The last night before starting over again, I slept- slept as I hadn't in months. The next morning with a Uhaul full of furniture, books, clothing and my trusty Zenobia meowing in the front seat, I began a new adventure. This was different than every other. Once everything had been unloaded and the rental truck gone, I sat down admist the boxes and cried. Not the heart wrenching sobs of the hurricane, just hours of sorrow laden tears for dreams and love lost, combined with the fear of never finding love, peace and security again. In time, I learned to live, trust and love fully. I learned not to settle, I discovered the true value and worth of myself, my feelings and emotions and I discovered the true joy & happiness of a life not weighted down with regrets, sorrows and possessions. And years later, after waiting first patiently and then not so patiently, I felt safe enough to take a leap that lead me to the man who saved me from self destruction and gave me a son and future.It was years before anyone asked what did you do with your gown. Most assumed including family members, that I sold it or destoryed it during a drunken night of eradicating the momentos of my disastrous adventure. At first, all I said was it has been recycled- nothing more of less. It wasn't until two years ago, while reading a from a beloved friend who newly divorced struggled with what to do with her gown, once a symbol of love and promise, that I shared the whole story of my gown's adventure. Turns out that she had an angel of her own that she carried in her heart, unable at the time to provide a proper burial. Before shipping her gown she saved a section of the dress, which she framed along with a photo of her angel.Footnotes[1] http://The Angel Gown® Program • NICU Helping Hands

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