My story emanates from what used to be a passionate dislike for junk mail. Each day my mailbox bulged with allegedly wonderful offers for credit cards, gizmos and other nonsense that promised to change and improve my life.

I was fed up ruffling through the 7 to 10 different pieces of junk mail every day to get to the 1 letter or magazine that I actually wanted to read.

I am 50% Scottish so frugal living (or, as non-Scottish call it, penny pinching) has been my way for as long as I can remember. My frugal lifestyle meant that no goofy advertising come-on was ever going to part me from my cherished cash and I took great offense to those who tried.

Understand that those of us who are frugal think twice (sometimes three times, sometimes four) before making ANY purchase.

To part us from our money, there must be some overwhelmingly positive outcome that will result. The offer must either be a solid investment or bring us immense and lasting joy (or preferably both!)

I had learned some cagey, and rather juvenile, strategies for getting back at these companies and their constant junk mail solicitations. One that really caught my attention was the idea of using their prepaid envelopes to send all their junk right back to them. I have to admit, I liked the idea. Hey, if they were going to waste my time, I could certainly waste theirs.

I never got fired up enough to actually do this but no matter because, somewhere along the line, there was a kind of an epiphany that took me out of this vengeful mindset and into a capitalist one.

The epiphany...

I continued my frugal living despite the constant barrage of unwanted daily messaging. Every now and again I would open up a piece of junk mail to see what ridiculous offer they were attempting to make. After reading a few stray pieces more closely, it one day dawned on me what some of these mailers were offering and I started to realize that a few of these companies might actually be inadvertently giving me the opportunity to do something really exciting and potentially profitable.

Instead of fighting the junk mail, I started collecting it and reading it more carefully.

Every week various credit card issuers sent offers pitching the opportunity to make purchases or transfer balances at introductory rates as low as 0%.

My frugal instincts took over as I began to conceptualize how this could be both a solid investment and something that would bring me a lot of joy.

This was the early 2000s and, at the time, the government allowed the purchase of I-bonds with credit cards over the internet. I dusted off two of the junk mail offers, carefully read through their terms and conditions to make sure there was nothing in the fine print that would change my mind, and signed up for 2 new credit cards with introductory teaser rates of 0% for all new purchases for 12 months. Between the 2 cards, I had access to a credit line of about $40,000.

Love my country

As I mentioned, at the time the U.S. Govenment had a website that allowed the purchase of Government I-Bonds with credit cards. Easy as pie, I purchased $30,000 worth of government I-bonds (which returned 6.5% that year) with these credit cards on which I payed 0% interest. I made the minimum payment on my credit cards each month, happily pocketed the spread between 0% and 6.5% and considered myself very smart indeed. This transaction fit right in with my frugal lifestyle. I was delighted to earn 6.5% on someone else's money by simply taking them up on their junk mail offer.

At the time, the government allowed a maximum yearly I-bond credit card purchase of $30,000 so there was a definite ceiling on how much could be earned. In this case, 6.5% of $30,000 was $1,950. Not enough to retire on surely but, for the limited amount of work required, a fantastic return on investment.

Hate my country

About 2 years later, the government decided they would no longer allow the purchase of any government bond by credit card.

I was devastated.

I was frustrated.

I was angry!

My easy money stream dried up right before my eyes.

It was the BEST thing that could have happened to me. Because it meant I had to think. Reevaluate. Get creative.