Dude, It’s Just a Penny

It had been five years since my youngest had seen her dad. The age of thirteen seems to be filled with rites of passage, and she asked me to facilitate a relationship for her. I could write a book about the emotional side of this trip. There were beautiful moments and heartbreaking moments, sometimes simultaneously, but that is not the point of this tale.

Relying on a jar of peanut butter, a pound of bologna and salami, a loaf of bread, and some side snacks to get us through the traveling, we headed south. There’s no wiggle room for mistakes or unexpected events when you’re traveling on a working-poor budget, and my muscles are always tense from the time we leave until we get home. Add to the fact that we left without a clue as to how much this trip was going to cost.

So why do it, right? I’ve been told that I should’ve stayed home, but this trip had a purpose, and I don’t believe that someone’s financial situation should dictate what they see of the world. I mean, why does everyone not deserve to see the ocean if they want to? It is the same argument as SNAP recipients being only allowed to buy healthy foods; why does a child in poverty not deserve a birthday cake or a potato chip?

I used my points acquired from my professional travel (privilege) to score a hotel for a couple of nights. We also spent two nights with family (privilege), which made the trip possible. We used whatever resources were available, such as the grab-n’-go breakfasts and spent wisely.

One More Night

I felt good about the trip home. I had put gas and toll money away. The car was running well (privilege). I had planned on taking a quick catnap while my oldest was driving and getting home in one swoop, but it wasn’t happening. Our ETA kept getting later and later, and those stressed muscles had grown so tight that I squeaked when I walked. Suddenly, somewhere in Virginia, I had to admit that we weren’t making it home that night. A hotel was the only choice; a hotel that wasn’t in my budget.

I have a pay-as-you-go debit card that I use. My oldest was assigned the task of finding the cheapest hotel room, and she did well. $44.41 for a room. Score! We made the reservation in the car. I was feeling cocky when we pulled into the lot. I mean, an unexpected event covered and there was still gas and toll money set aside. Then it happened. The man said, “I’m sorry. Can I see that card one more time?” “Sure,” I said, avoiding my daughter’s stare. I opened the app to check the balance and saw that I had $44.41 available. The price of the room? $44.42.

Here’s where the trauma response of poverty presents as annoyance. I told him that my card was one cent short. He stared at me, wanting a Plan B. I didn’t have one. The years of hustling kicked in and I asked if we could split the price. I mean, it was a damn penny! We split the charge and had a place to lay our head, but I noticed 20 new gray hairs the next day.

Split It

I spent my “vacation” talking about feeding programs, SNAP payments, and utility assistance at a loved one’s table. I noticed that poverty is perhaps a bit harder in the south. I mean, I was blown away at the cheap price of real estate and was reminded that it’s cheaper because people there have less. The cost of living is less, and the poverty appears to run deeper. I saw some people whose generations of poverty could be counted in the lines in their foreheads.

And regardless of where I go, I see it. Because of the video, people now feel comfortable enough to talk about it, and we have to stop normalizing the silence of our struggles. Hearing about hunger is widely accepted, so why isn’t being honest about our own situations? We’ll tell the story of a homeless man eating out of the trash, but we won’t talk about the time we stayed in bed all day because we were hungry and broke. As for me, I’m owning it. My oldest and I shared a fist bump when we made it home because we had four $1 bills in the car so we weren’t broke.

Don’t believe that you don’t deserve to take the trip or buy a 12 pack of pop with your SNAP. Don’t believe that everyone around you is much better off because most of them probably aren’t. And split the charge if you have to.

Onward,

Amy Jo

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