I’ve never really dreamed of being rich or wealthy. Well, okay, I did have those rock star dreams of fame and fortune when I was much younger, and there was the sheer envy of Barbie’s Dream House (it had an elevator!) … but I digress.
My point is that I’ve never really placed a lot of emphasis on having a surplus of money because my fairy tales were built on having “just enough” money. You know, like having six-month’s worth of bill money in a savings account; being able to buy a new tire when I needed one instead of having to drive around on a doughnut until payday; being able to afford the co-pay to take my kid to the doctor rather than making up a lie about leaving my purse at home; and being able to grocery shop without a calculator.
The simple things.
All of this is to say that I’ve never wanted more than I needed, but, admittedly, I am fascinated by wealthy people. When I drive through a wealthy neighborhood, I am always struck by the lack of window covering. I mean, I can see right into the fanciest of houses. The curtains, if there are any, are often open, leaving me to sneak a peek inside at the fancy televisions and lights. My favorite drives through wealthy neighborhoods are during the holidays because it’s like a Hallmark movie.
My family and I always say the same things: “Why aren’t they afraid of being robbed?”
“How can you just open up your curtains like that?”
“Rich people are crazy for letting everybody see what they have!”
See, you won’t see a lot of pulled back curtains where I live, and I don’t really know why. Maybe it’s because we’re afraid of being ripped off so we keep everything covered. Maybe it’s because people judge too quickly and harshly so we keep our most personal stuff hidden. I suppose it could be these and a hundred different reasons, but, regardless, it’s just a fact; we don’t want you looking in our front window, and maybe it’s simply because if someone takes what we have, immediate replacement probably isn’t going to be an option.
Having “just enough” can look a lot of ways. Maybe it’s “just enough” gas to get to work. Or “just enough” food to get you through until the next payday. Maybe it’s “just enough” to get by after keeping your utilities on. But one thing’s for sure, “Just enough” is never too much and doesn’t leave a lot of wiggle room.
I was in a store the other day, looking at the selection of meat. I saw a frozen chicken in the cooler. It was tagged organic, so I expected it to be a bit more expensive than what I was used to, so I didn’t cringe at the $12.99 price tag. Well, I didn’t cringe until it was pointed out to me that I had misread the tag. The chicken cost $12.99 PER pound. I thought it was a joke. I mean, that chicken weighed 4.6 pounds. $12.99 a pound would mean that the chicken cost $59.75! Sixty dollars for a chicken? Just a … chicken.
A chicken that would barely feed my family. Sixty dollars. I laughed out loud because I truly could not wrap my head around the fact that someone would pay $60 for a freaking frozen chicken! I was so enamored by this chicken that I had to fight the urge to take a selfie with it. I mean, that was undoubtedly the fanciest chicken that I had ever had the pleasure of seeing. A sixty. dollar. chicken. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not saying that people don’t deserve to raise, sell, buy, and/or eat $60 chickens, but it’s just, well, it’s a bit more than my “just enough” fairy tale can imagine.
It’s a lot like the bathmat my mom found at a thrift store the other day with a $45 price tag on it. I mean, someone spent $45 on a rug that is designed for wet feet and dripping bodies. And then they never used it and gave it away! It makes no sense to me. My rational brain seeks to understand, but it’s out of my range because I honestly don’t know if I’ve ever shopped in a store with $45 bathmats. That chicken has had my head reeling for days. I’ll be working on something and BAM! There’s the bird. And I’m not mentioning it to hurt feelings or cause drama.
I’m mentioning it because it has helped me to understand things a bit better. What that bird made blatantly clear is that if I am struggling so hard to understand how and WHY people buy $60 chickens for dinner, then no wonder it’s so hard for people to understand poverty. Wealth and poverty are total opposites with no middle ground. Wealth is organic expensive meals while poverty is manager specials and Hamburger Helper. Wealth is $45 bathmats while poverty is a towel on the floor.
So, how do we even begin to understand each other? I know one thing to be true: I have done all the things that society has told me to do to have a great life. I have worked since the age of 16, sometimes three jobs at a time. I graduated from high school. I have graduated from college. I have a good paying job. I’ve tried to pull myself up by the bootstraps so many times that I’ve ripped the damn things off.
And yet I can’t achieve wealth. I still haven’t yet been able to achieve my dream of “just enough,” no matter how hard I work. Financial instability isn’t always the result of poor decisions (see what I did there?). We live in a system that feeds on inequity and is designed to divide us. Wealth disparity has kept us from communicating and learning from each other, which is exactly how the system wins.
That fowl $60 has taught me that I need to work a little harder at bringing perspective and awareness to the fact that poverty is not a character defect but, rather, a circumstance. It also has shown me that I need to give a lot more grace to those who can’t wrap their heads around my sticker shock and find a way to bridge the gap to understanding and advocacy.
What’d that $60 chicken teach you?
