My daughter looked at my sneakers and said, “Tatty. No.”

(That’s “Dad” in my house.)

That’s it. That’s all I got. “Tatty. No.”

I’m wearing Nikes. NIKES! I grew up in the era of Bo Jackson. Air Jordans. “Bo Knows.” The Slam Dunk Contest. Nike wasn’t just a brand — it was THE brand.

My Nikes? Cross trainers from the 00’s. They call them “vintage” now.

Apparently, On Cloud is the thing now. The split soles. The cool kids. The whole vibe. She has a pair. She loves them. Their “heaven”.

“Everyone has them, Tatty.”

So I went to the store. The On Clouds were right there. Front and center. On display like museum pieces.

Everyone was trying them on. Looking at themselves in the little mirrors. Nodding approvingly at their own feet.

Social proof everywhere.

So I tried them on too. Felt pretty good about myself.

Then I saw the Hokas. They looked comfortable. Maybe I’ll try those too.

“Tatty. No. Hoka is for old people.”

I’m sorry, what am I?

“On Cloud is cooler. By far.”

So apparently my choices are: nerdy (Nike), old (Hoka), or acceptable (On Cloud).

I bought the On Clouds. The 9s. Slip-on. No laces. Just slide in and go.

I was very excited about this.

(First thing I checked: return policy. My wife has taught me well.)

“Don’t wear them outside,” she said. “You won’t be able to return them.”

“I know, I know. I got it.”

“I’m serious. Outside = no returns.”

“I KNOW.”

She’s on top of things.

—

TWO WEEKS LATER

Tried them on at home. Walked around the house.

For a couple of weeks.

Didn’t dare go outside — that would void the return. So I wore them in the hallway. Straight for eight hours at a time while working. Just… pacing. Sitting. Standing. Feeling like a guy who wears On Clouds.

That slip-on feature was really pulling at me. No laces. Just slide in and go.

My Nikes have laces. But do I untie them like a normal person? No. I try to slip them on anyway — pumping my foot back and forth, crushing the heel down.

I can hear my mother in my head: “You’re going to ruin your shoes like that, Avraham!”

With the On Clouds? No pumping. No crushed heels. No guilt.

My wife kept asking: “So? Do you like them?”

“I’m… undecided.”

“Undecided?”

“I’m not sure how much better they are than what I’ve got.”

Did I look cooler? Maybe.

Were they comfortable? Kinda. But I’ve got flat feet, so nothing’s ever quite right.

Did I need them? Definitely not.

My old Nikes — the nerdy ones, apparently — still work fine. They’ve got miles left in them. Even with the crushed heels.

So I returned them.

Well. I sent my wife in. She’s better at this.

—

“YOU RETURNED THEM?!”

Yes. After two weeks. I returned them.

“Tatty, that’s so…”

So what? Responsible? Financially literate? Wise beyond my years?

“…embarrassing.”

—

THE $180 MUSCLE

Here’s the thing:

I used to be the guy who never returned anything.

Just kept stuff. Shoved it in a closet. Told myself I’d use it eventually. Ate the cost and moved on.

Like the TRX suspension trainer. The yellow bands. I saw some video on YouTube about what military guys use to stay in shape when they don’t have a gym. So even though I have my own gym, I had to get them. Because I wanna be tough like a military guy.

Should have returned those two days after I bought them.

Instead, they took up space in storage for seven years.

My wife finally asked if she could throw them out.

I caved.

(She was right.)

There were things I wanted to return. I’d think about it. Put it off. Then one day I’d find the receipt crumpled in a drawer. Three months later. Some gadget from Home Depot — I don’t even remember what it was anymore. That’s how much I needed it. Money wasted. Didn’t even want it. Can’t even remember what it was.

Returning felt like… admitting I made a mistake. Too much hassle. Too awkward.

Now? I return things.

Not everything. But when something doesn’t fit — literally or figuratively — I take it back.

That’s a shift. A small one. But it took years.

Returning stuff is a muscle.

It’s the same muscle as canceling the subscription you forgot about — the LinkedIn Premium that’s been charging you for months. (Or now it’s that other AI you don’t need. 🤖)

It’s cousins with the muscle that stops you from buying the thing in the first place.

It’s the muscle that says: I don’t need this.

Most of us never use it.

—

ANYWAYS…

My Nikes are nerdy. Hokas would make me “old.” And my black On Cloud 9s are back at the store.

(On Cloud 9. Great name. You know what else puts me on cloud nine? $180 back in my pocket.)

Because Bo Knows. 💸

Bo Jackson would be proud.

Avraham
Your Financial Coach

P.S. What’s something you bought and should have returned but didn’t? Hit reply. I want to hear about the thing in your closet.