Sunday, December 6, 2020

Mind on my Money...

"Don't be fooled by the rocks that I've got, I'm still Jenny from the block." -Jennifer Lopez; estimated net worth $400 million

"One thing I know I left my heart and soul in the boondocks." Little Big Town; estimated net worth $35 million

I don't know if it's a uniquely American thing to want to claim to be exactly the same as we've always been even when clearly we are not. At least as far as money goes. 

Hell even Trump tried to claim he was just like everyone else, just took a small loan (a million dollars) from his father. Though of course it was more like $400 million. But even then ONE MILLION dollars isn't a small loan. 

I'm just an everyday Joe. 

No, no none of you are. You are not just Jenny from the block. You own the goddamn block now. And if you left your heart and soul in the boondocks then you are heartless and soulless because you sure as hell aren't in the boondocks anymore. 

And I get it...I remind people that I grew up poor when we are having debates about things like welfare. And the line from the Matchbox20 song "Same old trailer trash in new shoes" always gets me to sing along loudly.  But I don't claim I'm still the same as I was. I'm not. I even make fun of myself for it now. I had an "on this day" post about how flabbergasted 16 year old me would be on how much my shampoo costs! 

We have these competing drives to be successful, to have money, but not to be judged as being out of touch for having money. It's weird. 

Part of it is because you can always see people who have more. And those people are completely out of touch. But not you. You still remember when you only had some money, not enough. And what is enough? I mean, there is that as well. If you never think you have enough you never feel like you are well off. There is someone else out there with more. 

Well, sure. But that doesn't mean you're still scraping by. There is a difference. 

I am not in the same position as I was growing up. Thank goodness. Yes, growing up broke shaped a few things in my life. And being broke when we were first married did as well. I will tell you, and I do all the time, I've been broke and I've been comfortable and comfortable is much better. We aren't rich. But we aren't poor. And because we aren't poor we aren't the same as we were. We aren't as guarded about what we spend. We don't weigh every single purchase on a T account with plusses and minuses about what it will cost to buy. See, because if you are broke the cost isn't just what the item's price is, but how much am I spending to repair what it needs to replace? How long will it last? How many other things will I need to give up to buy this item?

Jenny, if you've got a lot of rocks, you are no longer weighing those costs. 

Because we were broke we tend to give more. There are multiple studies out there that show people with less money tend to give a higher percentage to those in need. Because they know what it's like. I can remember having a conversation with one of my more well off acquaintances about tax codes and how nobody would give if they took away the charitable donation tax write off. And I argued that you shouldn't be giving for the tax write off you should be giving to help people who need help. They looked at me like I'd lost my damn mind. And sadly, there are a ton of stories out there about giving decreasing when write offs decrease. Because people who have never wanted for the basics don't seem to understand that when you are doing well you need to help others do well. They get it as a concept, but then start pearl clutching over "redistribution of wealth" when you really get into the weeds about it. 

 I was still in advertising as the last really big economic downturn started to take hold. I can remember listening to people talk about going broke and losing everything. I was really devastated for them until they started to line out what "losing everything" really looked like. One of my bigger franchisees was going to have to sell the big boat. The big one, not the little one. Just the big one. Another franchisee group was going to have to sell their more expensive brands and buy into a brand that had bigger margins. They were all going to have to cut back on travel and maybe only take two vacations a year and forget the European tour, they would have to just go to Mexico that year. Do you know how many vacations we took when I was a kid that weren't tied to driving back to Iowa to see my mother's parents? 

One. And that was tied to the North American Christian Convention. 

Being broke isn't a thing they really understood. 

The feeling of the repo man in the kitchen. 
Adding up your groceries as you walk the aisles to make sure it was all covered.
Having the credit cared denied. And then the other credit card denied. Then having to ask if they can split the bill between two other ones. 
Knowing that you are the lucky one because you have credit cards while a lot of your friends don't even have that.

But if you were to ask most of them they would tell you how they were just "normal guys" just average Joes. 

Because somehow we've decided that you have to pretend you aren't wealthy when you are. You have to act like you're just a regular Joe when you are really a Mr. Joseph. 

It's strange to me. 

I'm not rich. I've been next to actual wealth and what we are isn't that. But I'm no longer poor either. And I don't make decisions from a broke state of mind. I make them from a space much higher on Maslow's hierarchy. I'm firmly in the esteem bobbing along to self-actualization on a good day. And that's good. Because as long as I'm working on what makes me feel better about myself and being the best possible person I can be that means I'm helping other people. I'm working on holding out a hand to help others up the pyramid. And I can't do that if I'm pretending that I'm still barely hanging on the the basic needs.

And maybe that's why people do it. Why they pretend they aren't as well off as they are. Why they act like they are barely squeaking by. Because if you admit you have enough. That you are doing well. That you are firmly in that upper middle class or above register that you need to be doing more for others. That you need to be outwardly facing a little more than you are. That you need to be practicing compassion for others who don't have what you have instead of disdain. That if you really think you are just one paycheck away from the breadline then you need to give part of your next paycheck to those that are already there. 

If we let go of the myth of being the regular Joe we have to embrace the responsibility of what that actually means. 

Are you helping or not? Are you making it better or not? Or are you just content to be at the top of the pile and fuck everyone else? 

I know, I've talked about all of this before, and I probably will again, but the thing the pandemic should be showing us as much as anything else is that the wealth gap is huge. The just getting by gap is huge. The disparity between those that can home school their kids because they have access to the computers and the high speed internet connection and those that are struggling because they have no way of even getting homework assignments is vast. The difference between "it's not an ideal work station" and "I have to go in to work and face the risk of infection every day" not to mention those that cannot even go into work because there is no work to go into anymore. 

And along with that wealth gap is a compassion gap. If your economic system is designed on people having to go to work in a plague to have enough to eat maybe you should be looking at redesigning your economic system. If your idea of oppression is being told to wear a mask so you don't infect people instead of seeing the real oppression is being forced to interact with people who refuse to wear masks so you can make your rent payment. 

I'm very lucky. I understand that. I grew up poor but I didn't stay there. Most of that is due to Brent and his work ethic and I understand that as well. I'm extremely lucky. And now I'm obligated. 

And pretending that I'm still the same trailer park girl I was doesn't meet that obligation. 

Even if I am paying $28 a bottle for shampoo now. 

No comments:

Post a Comment