Saving My Points For Mrs Right

Approximately 21 years ago, nearly to this exact day, I bid a tearful farewell to a lifetime spent "learning" (aka frantic knowledge absorption followed by rapid de-memorization), and officially hopped on board the lowest rung of the Corporate America ladder. Joining the semi-prestigious ranks of Deloitte & Touche as a... (dusts off unused box of 500 business cards)... Business Analyst, my initial foray into "working for the man" was quite the eye-opener. Wide-eyed and rapidly losing my bushy hair, I was wholly unprepared for the infamous "9-5 grind." Long hours & late nights, early wake-ups & arduous deadlines, and of course, the ever-present expectation that subject matter expertise on previously-unknown subject matters, could quite literally be obtained, overnight.

Biology, Comparative Literature & Calculus. Economics, Psychology & Computer Engineering. None of these courses prepared me whatsoever, for, well, any of this. I mean, when did I get to use all that Sine / Cosine / Tangent knowledge I accrued over the years? How was my knowledge of mitochondria & cellular mitosis supposed to assist me in designing a staffing schedule for Anesthesiologists? Knowing how to build a computer did absolutely nothing to help me excel at actually using one. It was malarky, if I do say so. Complete malarky! (but also, thanks Mom/Dad! Totally loved it!)

I digress.

With "learning on the job" officially representing my new form of "post-grad" education, another aspect of "The Consulting Lifestyle” for which I was fairly ill-equipped, was the travel. The endless, unrelenting, unceasing, unbearably exhausting, travel. Monday through Thursday. Sometimes even Friday. The occasional Sunday. Every week. Every month. All year. Every year. Til death do us part. Or at least, until a strongly-encouraged resignation found its way into my inbox. Same same, but different. Right?

I digress. Again. Seems to be a trend with these blogs.

Back to the travel. Yes, sleeping in one’s own bed for less than 14 nights a year did not provide much semblance of a home life. Nor an existence. Or even a non-work-related purpose. And sure that was not ideal for a young whipper-snapper such as myself. BUUUUUUT... on the positive side, there were the perks. Oh boy oh boy, the perks. (Travel perks that is -- Let's be real, a 21-year-old kid in oversized/outdated Men's Warehouse suits wasn't getting any "other" perks if you catch my less-than-subtle drift). 

I became a literal whore to any business who offered me, well, anything. Airlines miles, hotel points, credit card points, car rental rewards, airport parking structure points, Subway Eat Fresh punch cards. If they offered it, I was gonna be their goddamn golden retriever (i.e. loyal -- We were going for loyal in this particular verbal scenario). All in exchange for the tens of thousands of dollars my employer was willing to spend on jet-setting me to and from any and every hospital across the country. To, ya know, "consult." 

Oh and I consulted. Consulted better than anyone has ever consulted (FACT CHECK REQUIRED). Until of course, I no longer consulted (see "forced resignation" reference above). It happens to the best of us. Or at least to those who send a few too many internal emails which start with the completely innocuous phrase -- “Per my last email.” (Insert shrug emoji)

Fast forward to the present day, and while the plethora of airline miles obtained during my 3+ years of re-iterating to companies what they already knew about themselves in the first place (aka "consulting"), has unfortunately been depleted into relative nothingness (shakes fist at loving-yet-definitely-not-appreciative-enough family), my hotel points are alive and well. So much so, they have only accrued from the very first day I checked into that dark & musky Residence Inn in Champagne, Illinois, way back in 2004. The first of what would be over 500 nights spent in various Marriott-owned properties, with not a single point being "redeemed" since that day. 

Why you may ask? Why hoard a humble-brag worthy million hotel points? You are aware of "devaluation" right? Ya know, like reverse inflation? As in, those points in 2025 are worth a fraction of what they were in 2007.

And yeah, sure, passive aggressive reader, I get it. BUT, at the time, only one hotel redemption reward stood out as the be-all-end-all. A place on which I could blow my proverbial load... of points. Everyone's favorite epizeusix-iated destination: Bora Bora -- A small group of islands in the sovereign state of French Polynesia. Home to the infamously awe-inspiring, completely-unnecessary-but-you-can-still-GFY, Overwater Bungalow. A place worth blowing, one's load. Proverbial load, of course.

But, this load blowing came with a problem. Two problems to be exact. Notably for someone struggling to earn those "non-travel perks":

1. That's a weird ass travel goal to have, especially for a “young professional” without the slightest inclination of luxury, a palette of an 8-year-old, who still considered “well whiskey” a more-than-adequate adult beverage of choice

2. Ideally, to make this travel ambition slightly less unusual, one would assume such a trip would involve a romantic partner of some sort (and no, “friends-with-benefits-but-only-after-2AM-every-3rd-fiscal-quarter” do not count)

So I had to wait. And wait. And wait. Long enough that the "value" of my hotel points began to drop. And drop. And drop. 

Until Julie. My muse. My savior. (Hi Babe. Welcome! We have been waiting for you! "We", as in the blog. Not "We" as in what a crazy person in movies says before some sort of murder-type-escapade takes place.)

Yes, Julie. The one person who was willing to spend time with me more than once a quarter, and continue to do so, despite all the various “eccentricities” which arguably have stuck around ever since our 1st semi-awkward-but-apparently-successful date back in 2011:
​

• A fashion sense permanently stuck in 1994 (i.e. cargo shorts, graphic t-shirts, flip flops)
• An ability to speak in non-sarcastic tones (a touchy subject come wedding vow time)
• A slight obsession with all Michigan/Detroit-related sports (SPORTS!)
• The inability to not comment whenever any given word or phrase is slightly mis-spoken (it’s gotta be some sort of tick or something?)
• There must be more… Julie? I know you have a list. Every wife has a list. 

Regardless, Julie. Dearest dearie dear. Snookums. Other nicknames which nobody besides the internet will read. I made you a promise on March 1st 2014. Marry me for who I am, and your "bride price" comes in the form of travel rewards.

11-1/2 years later, and it’s finally time to redeem.

Next Stop - Tahiti: The Upper Middle Class Entry Point to Paradise