Ever Been Broke?

I have...

Although my heart and home(s) are in Iowa, I write this from sunny Florida. I know how fortunate I am on many levels. It hasn't always been so, which I'll get into in a minute.

The evening newscast on the local CBS affiliate features an ongoing story about the growing need for donations to the local food bank. A volunteer comes on to say they have never seen anything like the numbers they have now.

The unfortunate recipients who end up interviewed on camera by a young, perky reporter try to explain why they wait in the long line for a box of food. Their stories vary. A waitress or hairstylist is out of work. Or a spouse died from Covid, and the family income was gone. Every car has a story—and the line snakes around multiple blocks.

I get depressed when I realize the disconnect between the haves and used-to-haves or have-nots.

Folks here pay $350 for a bedazzled pair of jeans and $50 for wine. Many don't understand what's happening in their Zip Code.

Members of Congress, especially those debating the Covid relief package, are so comfortable financially, some have forgotten what it's like to struggle, if they ever knew.

It's hard for many who have money in the bank, a 401K engorged by a rising stock market and recurring income, to understand what is happening in their Zip Code to the people who have served them in one capacity or the other.

I wouldn't know what Siberia is like either because I haven't been there. But I do know what living at the poverty level is like because I HAVE been there.

Between 1992-1994 I worked through a period of career re-invention. Mine was self-inflicted, but it was tough.

I had to sell my house to pay bills. A flat tire was a disaster- a broken appliance a nightmare. I didn't have health insurance and prayed I wouldn't get sick or break a leg. Credit card debt piled with a significant interest rate and late fees loomed ominously. It took years to climb out of the hole.

A review of rental properties in Des Moines today has listings costing $750 to $3,250 a month. That's just for rent.

If someone has a job paying $10 an hour, 40 hours a week is $1,600 a month. Deduct taxes, school supplies, transportation costs, food, utilities, internet (a necessity for kids in school) and there's nothing left but debt. No one is socking away thousands for a rainy day, let alone a global pandemic. Then, imagine losing that job.

The federal minimum wage is $7.25, the floor. Florida goes to $10 in 2021. Iowa is one of 19 states at the federal minimum wage. Get this. It’s $8.75, in West Virginia, $9.45 in South Dakota and going to $11 in Arkansas. Click for more.

Seriously?

In my former column-writing days, I tried to get a few CEOs to live in low rent housing for a month with a spending limit of what their entry-level employees were earning. I thought it would make a great story.

No takers. Of course. They thought I was kidding.

Monopoly money

Remember the game of Monopoly where we all started with $1,500, and you'd get $200 when passing 'GO?’ No one won until everyone else ran out of money. A lucky toss of the dice meant a player could buy properties and charge rent. When a player landed on places owned by an opponent, they'd pay and pay and pay until out of money—the point of the game.

In this game of life, some began with much more real money. Even if they did blow it, parents were around to bail them out if they got in a jam—or paid their college tuition. Clothes. Cars. Food. Worrying about healthcare never crossed their minds. They aren't bad people. They don't know another experience.

If I had a magic wand, I'd have everyone need to stand in line waiting for a box of food.

Just once ought to do it.