A certain Rabbit Gone Wrong has inspired this post, or rather her reporting of comments by her soon-to-be ex-husband. I have met people similar to this man, at least with the personality aspect she has described today, where they are poor simply because they do not have the latest sports car, a couple of extra mansions, private jets, stocks and shares meaning they never have to work again and so on. People using this as a definition of poverty is one of the things that irritates me. Now I know that I have not experienced the type of poverty that strikes in less priviliged countries than my own, but even I have more idea about what being poor really means than this guy.
I only have somewhere to live and eat now through the grace and generosity of my parents. I work part time, because I lack the qualifications to get a better job full time and have too much experience to get a worse job full time. The only way I got this job was by calling in some very old favours, and while I used to have a lot of those owed to me I am rapidly running out. This is not what I would consider poverty by any stretch, I am earning money, in a pinch I could afford to rent a room in a boarding house and eat one meal of rice a day, possibly with a little meat once and twice a week. I would manage to survive.
I only suffered what I would consider true poverty for two weeks. I had lost my house, this was back when I had one, and I had lost my job. What I had left was a car, which I had no petrol for and which got impounded due to my inability to pay for insurance, tax, petrol or parking permit. Other than that I had a good quality coat, seventy-two pence, and a set of good sturdy clothes. That seventy-two pence and a lot of fast-talking purchased me a couple of McDonald's burgers on the first day I was homeless, and then I had nothing.
For two weeks, because I was too proud to call some friends and admit I had failed miserably to support myself as I was meant to, I practically starved. I would beg and grovel for people to give me some money so that I could get food, dying of shame the whole time. I discovered after the first week why it seems that so many homeless people drink. It just gives you the ability to debase yourself to such a level that you can bring yourself to beg, at least that was how I found it. Most of my money from then went on drink, cheap supermarket brandy was a favourite since it was cheap, and warming. Never let anyone tell you sleeping on a bench is comfortable. It is not.
And then at the end of those two weeks I was rescued. One of those friends I had refused to call found me, talked me into going back with them, got me cleaned up, a change of clothes, and forced upon me enough money to get my car back and on the road, and enough petrol to get home. He also forced me to call my parents and explain what had happened, which was probably the hardest thing I have ever done.
So, next time you hear a couple of people in designer clothes, or driving a car, or just walking through town shopping complaining that they are poor just laugh at them. They honestly have no idea.
I only have somewhere to live and eat now through the grace and generosity of my parents. I work part time, because I lack the qualifications to get a better job full time and have too much experience to get a worse job full time. The only way I got this job was by calling in some very old favours, and while I used to have a lot of those owed to me I am rapidly running out. This is not what I would consider poverty by any stretch, I am earning money, in a pinch I could afford to rent a room in a boarding house and eat one meal of rice a day, possibly with a little meat once and twice a week. I would manage to survive.
I only suffered what I would consider true poverty for two weeks. I had lost my house, this was back when I had one, and I had lost my job. What I had left was a car, which I had no petrol for and which got impounded due to my inability to pay for insurance, tax, petrol or parking permit. Other than that I had a good quality coat, seventy-two pence, and a set of good sturdy clothes. That seventy-two pence and a lot of fast-talking purchased me a couple of McDonald's burgers on the first day I was homeless, and then I had nothing.
For two weeks, because I was too proud to call some friends and admit I had failed miserably to support myself as I was meant to, I practically starved. I would beg and grovel for people to give me some money so that I could get food, dying of shame the whole time. I discovered after the first week why it seems that so many homeless people drink. It just gives you the ability to debase yourself to such a level that you can bring yourself to beg, at least that was how I found it. Most of my money from then went on drink, cheap supermarket brandy was a favourite since it was cheap, and warming. Never let anyone tell you sleeping on a bench is comfortable. It is not.
And then at the end of those two weeks I was rescued. One of those friends I had refused to call found me, talked me into going back with them, got me cleaned up, a change of clothes, and forced upon me enough money to get my car back and on the road, and enough petrol to get home. He also forced me to call my parents and explain what had happened, which was probably the hardest thing I have ever done.
So, next time you hear a couple of people in designer clothes, or driving a car, or just walking through town shopping complaining that they are poor just laugh at them. They honestly have no idea.
3 comments:
i agree... we have a saying about people like that ~ roughly translated ... "they complain while clutching a loaf of bread under your arm"... they have so many privilidges yet they still complain about just about everything...good post!
I hate those people.
I barely make 400 a month and the vast majority of that goes on bills and rent.
I'm lucky if I eat two weeks out of the month.
And even then, I'm not actually poor. Just skint.
Three cheers to being a student...the suckiest time of your life.
i could not have said it better rabbit.
you have certainly had an interesting life, and for me, asking for help is one of the hardest things there is to do. it feels like i'm admitting to something when i ask for help!!!
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