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Published 11/28/2005
Had electricity, nice cars, and proper clothing.
I wasn't always poor. I had to work hard at it. I had to quit several jobs
without finding new ones. I had to spend 75% of my paycheck at the bar
when I knew my bills would have easily taken 90%. I had to max out credit
cards and never pay on them. I had to give money to females that I knew
would never pay it back. And most importantly I had to move to a small
town where $6.00 and hour is considered 'good money'.
I didn't know that I was putting myself in line for poverty while I was doing
all these things. I just woke up one day and realized that I couldn't pay my
car note because I only had 11 cents in the bank.
And that's when it hit me: I'm POOR! It took me 25 long years but I finally
nose-dived below the poverty line. I was now in the same category as the
homeless and welfare recipients. No more was I hindered by riches. I had
shed that lifestyle. I got up and fixed myself a mayonnaise sandwich to
celebrate. Delicious!
As a poor person I am entitled to certain privileges to which the well-to-do
won't every be privy. I decide haved to list a few:
- Instead of lugging around a wallet full of heavy dollar bills I now pay for
important purchases like gasoline and food with spare change that I
scavenge up around the house.
- I get to shop at stores with improperly spelled titles like Sav-A-Lot,
Thrif-Ti-Mart, and DisKount King. These stores offer a wide variety of
out-dated, slightly damaged merchandise that Wal-Mart shoppers can only
dream of.
- I get to drool at restaurant commercials on TV because I know I will never
be able to afford meals like that again unless a rich relative dies.
- I get to wear my friend's hand-me-down clothes and shoes. This means
that I rarely match and my feet ache constantly from wearing shoes that are
three sizes too small.
- I get to freely engage in the official sports of the National Poor People's
Association: begging and borrowing.
- I get to go to bed every night with the comforting thought that if I ever
do meet Ms.Right I can't afford to date her.
I'll stop there because I see the envy rising to dangerous levels in a few
reader's eyes.
These readers probably have steady jobs and nice homes or apartments.
Their bills are probably caught up. They probably have an immense
wardrobe with properly sized shoes.
Their bank account probably never drops below $5,000. I apologize to these
readers if my boasting about my impoverished condition has made them feel
inferior and totally removed any self-esteem they may have had left.
All I can say is that I never meant to be poor. I was just in the right places
at the right times.
Maybe one day all of you will find yourselves on the Road to Rags as well.
Until then you can check in with me if you want to know what it's like. I'll be
the guy on the side of the interstate off-ramp with the 'Will Work For Food'
sign.
Pull your Mercedes right up and ask me anything. I promise I won't laugh.
Timothy Ward
Had electricity, nice cars, and proper clothing.
I wasn't always poor. I had to work hard at it. I had to quit several jobs
without finding new ones. I had to spend 75% of my paycheck at the bar
when I knew my bills would have easily taken 90%. I had to max out credit
cards and never pay on them. I had to give money to females that I knew
would never pay it back. And most importantly I had to move to a small
town where $6.00 and hour is considered 'good money'.
I didn't know that I was putting myself in line for poverty while I was doing
all these things. I just woke up one day and realized that I couldn't pay my
car note because I only had 11 cents in the bank.
And that's when it hit me: I'm POOR! It took me 25 long years but I finally
nose-dived below the poverty line. I was now in the same category as the
homeless and welfare recipients. No more was I hindered by riches. I had
shed that lifestyle. I got up and fixed myself a mayonnaise sandwich to
celebrate. Delicious!
As a poor person I am entitled to certain privileges to which the well-to-do
won't every be privy. I decide haved to list a few:
- Instead of lugging around a wallet full of heavy dollar bills I now pay for
important purchases like gasoline and food with spare change that I
scavenge up around the house.
- I get to shop at stores with improperly spelled titles like Sav-A-Lot,
Thrif-Ti-Mart, and DisKount King. These stores offer a wide variety of
out-dated, slightly damaged merchandise that Wal-Mart shoppers can only
dream of.
- I get to drool at restaurant commercials on TV because I know I will never
be able to afford meals like that again unless a rich relative dies.
- I get to wear my friend's hand-me-down clothes and shoes. This means
that I rarely match and my feet ache constantly from wearing shoes that are
three sizes too small.
- I get to freely engage in the official sports of the National Poor People's
Association: begging and borrowing.
- I get to go to bed every night with the comforting thought that if I ever
do meet Ms.Right I can't afford to date her.
I'll stop there because I see the envy rising to dangerous levels in a few
reader's eyes.
These readers probably have steady jobs and nice homes or apartments.
Their bills are probably caught up. They probably have an immense
wardrobe with properly sized shoes.
Their bank account probably never drops below $5,000. I apologize to these
readers if my boasting about my impoverished condition has made them feel
inferior and totally removed any self-esteem they may have had left.
All I can say is that I never meant to be poor. I was just in the right places
at the right times.
Maybe one day all of you will find yourselves on the Road to Rags as well.
Until then you can check in with me if you want to know what it's like. I'll be
the guy on the side of the interstate off-ramp with the 'Will Work For Food'
sign.
Pull your Mercedes right up and ask me anything. I promise I won't laugh.
Timothy Ward
"The Finer Points of Poverty"
http://www.lbry.com/articles/2061/1/The-Finer-Points-of-Poverty
http://www.lbry.com/articles/2061/1/The-Finer-Points-of-Poverty
Anne Zahalka
Reader
Reader