Poor people, poor decisions

"Poor" person's rationale why bad decisions make sense

I read the afore mentioned article on the Huffington Post and was torn between commenting there or here. Discretion being the better part of valor … and wanting to think a bit before making my comment, I chose here.

There is so much wrong with the young lady’s rationalizations. Where others see a just cause, I see merely excuses.

Ok, life has dealt her a tough hand. Get over it.

Second, own up to the fact that a lot of your choices got you where you are today … things that had you done something differently … like deferred gratification instead of going for moment and instant gratification … then maybe you wouldn’t be in the shoes you are in now.

Third, life is not a picnic. It takes hard word and many long hours of effort … and even then  you are not guaranteed material success. I know, because – I would tell the young lady – I have been there. I know about living on a jar of peanut butter and bread for weeks, because that was all I could afford. I know about celebrating the Kraft dinner* I had one day (made maybe two meals unless I was really, really hungry) because I could afford the box, a quart of milk and a pound of butter because I had a good night driving a cab at night** while going to college in the day and working on the student newspaper in the afternoon and early evening.

* For the uninitiated, Kraft dinner is a box of macaroni with powdered cheese mix … it cost me I think 19 cents back in 1971 and that was a dent in my budget. You need a pot, six cups of water, a dash of salt, 1/3 cup of milk and half a stick of butter to make it … takes maybe 10 minutes.

** I drove a cab in Manhattan, Kansas, for a couple of months in 1971. Not Manhattan, NY. Got 40 percent of the fare … and maybe got two or three fares a night – the Little Apple not being big on running around town in taxis. Average fare probably was less than $2. On a really, really good night (where I was lucky), I might make $15 or $20 but that happened about once every two weeks. My other source of income was my drill pay from my participation in the Navy Reserve … a whopping $16 per month back then for an E-3.

Then I spent my first 30 working years as newspaper journalist. Not that I would complain, but I would point out that unless you work for a Guild paper or one in a major metropolitan market, you basically get paid … crap. You have to love what you did, and tighten your belts, and accept that small newspapers can’t afford to pay people what they do in the big cities. I happened to absolutely love what I did. Probably did my children a great-disservice working 60-70 hours per week (with no overtime) and contributed to the collapse of my first marriage.

So you make choices. Like deferring having kids for years and then spacing them out. Like either not smoking or buying the cheapest cigarettes you can find … and then rationing them. Like not taking that vacation or trip … or buying those beers you wanted.

You think you have it bad, you really ought to study what it was like in the Depression in the 1930s, or what it was like trying to find a job in the 1970s when unemployment was in double digits.

College is not something that also is handed out. Granted a lot of parents put their kids through school or you take out loans to go to school. The latter is your choice, however. No one forces you to do it. I know because way back when I was lucky to go to college. The family bank was broke and I was last in line. Big Brother #1 opted to join the Army. Big Brother #2 was lucky to qualify for a full ride scholarship as was Big Sister. Unfortunately, I was not as talented as smart as they were so I lost that lottery.  That meant working, loans and sometimes pleading.

I spent six weeks in college begging not to be thrown out of the dorm while I waited for my loan to come through. I had $12 that lasted me that whole period and became a terrible bummer of cigarettes.

But as the line from Clint Eastwood said in Heartbreak Ridge: I adapted. I innovated. I overcame.

A lot of times your choices are dictated by your environment. That too is life. Get over it. Where you live can be your choice, once you reach a certain age. Again, it is not easy, but then who said it had to be easy or even was going to be easy.

Note: We all basically are immigrants here. Look back at what the life was for those people and stop taking for granted that you can just stand on their shoulders to get where you want to be.  Sometimes you have to start at the bottom.

Finally, nicotine is not just a stimulant. It also works as a depressant, as people under high stress will tell you. Smoking can help calm the nerves so you can cope with high levels of pressure or stress … or calm down after a high-adrenaline experience. I can personally document such usage.

Still, smoking is a choice.

So, if you don’t like the choices you have? Then, make new choices. Change your environment, but accept the fact that the mistakes you have made will encumber you like a load of baggage. You can either own up to them and carry them or dump them.

All too many people these days seem to be turning to the government/society and saying: “Here, carry my baggage.”

Believe me, it is going take us all down if we don’t stop doing that. It is not society’s job to take care of us. Nor the government’s. That is our job. And if others can, and are willing, then helping hands will be there because it is in our own self-interest to help others.

However, don’t complain if they aren’t. Sometimes life is like that. Sometimes you have to carry the baggage of your own choices, rich or poor, bad or good.

Don’t waste time blaming others, or situation or society, for your situation. They don’t really care (ah but we do … bovine scatology). You can get yourself out of it, or at least define yourself by trying.