Well, I went back last Saturday for my regular hair clean-up and I was still surprised to hear a pretty solid anti-Obama viewpoint. Here in the bastion of liberalism, there are folks thoroughly fed up with the guy for one reason or another.
But, this time around, the upcoming Presidential election wasn't the sole focus of dialogue. We got into a discussion amongst several age groups of money...and its non-buying power. At least for us.
Specifically, we all unanimously recalled the words uttered by all of our parents over and over and over again. Whenever you asked if you could buy some new gadget or toy....
"We can't afford it."
In my particular world, that got translated into another phrase, but equally as powerless.
"We're not made of money."
Whatever the words, they meant the same thing. Stop asking. You're not getting it. Sorry.
I was astonished to learn that there are parents in this world still practicing that frugality. Or, truly, common sense. And I was happy to know that such a common bond existed between a variety of adults ranging in age from the 20s to the 50s.
We all got it. If your family didn't have the dough, you learned how to manage without it. Nothing scientific. You didn't need a learned economist to figure out this simple equation of "supply and demand." An old European viewpoint that is slowly dying out in America, we all lamented together.
We talked about credit cards and how easy it is for kids to get them and then subsequently thrust themselves into life-long debt because, well, they just need to have the very latest version of the iPhone. We yakked it up on living in a tight economy and holding off on house renovations or that new car because you continue to hear the voices of your parents.
We can't afford it. Oh, yeah, and from Len's mom and dad...
We're not made of money.
I brought up some current scenarios in my own universe. My Droid phone is still 3G. 4G is the way to go these days. I could easily maintain and enhance accessibility and connectivity with an upgrade. I have dragged my feet to do so. Why?
I don't want to spend the money right now.
Meanwhile, I look around at everybody on their Kindles, iPads, and the like. I have been thinking about getting myself "tableted" for months. I have walked into the wireless store four times now to browse. And I have left the place empty-handed. Why?
I don't want to have the added expense right now.
At the same time, it's been years since I took a real vacation. Hawaii has been lingering in my backyard for so long and, yet, I have yet to go. Why?
It's a big outlay of cash and I have too many other more important recipients of my money.
Chatting around the salon, we are all in the same boat. And then I mention a video clip that went viral last week. Perhaps you saw it before. Featuring this utterly deplorable piece of human shit.
I was truly replused that a woman like this exists in America today. A disgusting individual living her life totally on entitlements. And somebody to whom my parents' words have no meaning. She can't afford a damn thing, but this has no impact. Because somebody is giving her what she wants.
Here's a piece of trash that likely has never worked a day in her life. She probably has popped out kids like candy. A uterus that doubles as a Pez dispenser. The children likely come equipped with multiple fathers. A bleeding heart in her town would argue that we need to have compassion for her because she didn't have the opportunity to garner proper schooling.
I argue back that, while complaining that she has diminished scholastic skills, people like this waste of oxygen somehow manage to know all the intracacies of government entitlement programs and can recite them with all the aplomb of a Harvard Law School graduate.
It's all wrong, folks. And I was delighted to discover, under the scissors, that I was not alone in my thoughts.
Just when you think you're alone, you find others standing beside you. Where you least expect it.
Should we stop talking about stuff like this? Absolutely not. Why?
Because we can't afford to.
Dinner last night: Grilled bratwurst, pickled beets, and cole slaw.
1 comment:
All of us Boomers grew up within the budgets of our families. There were no credit cards, no welfare, or EBT cards. Just my parents' paychecks. We did live paycheck to paycheck.
Even as a child I knew Friday was payday because that's when we had the money to shop at the A&P and pick up a pizza for dinner, both cash transactions. Money was tight until Friday. Don't bother asking before then.
It was a world of limits and lots of no's. It was reality. Parents scarred by the Depression, haunted that it would return. My mother feared going hungry her whole life because she had gone hungry as a child. It never left her.
My job at the A&P was to click the little red counter and keep track of what we were spending to the penny. Each item put in the shopping cart meant adding its price to the total. Box of Ronzoni, 29 cents. Click, click.
As an adult, I can't resist the siren song of credit cards, the lie of "easy credit," which is really easy debt. I'm in a hole that would give my mother a heart attack if she were still here. "You owe how much?" would be her last words. Thud.
I'm an inept manager of money, but I'm proud to say I don't have an Obamaphone, which is the new government cheese.
Post a Comment