Complex Numbers

Poor You

Today, in Adventures in Book Promotion:

https://www.theguardian.com/money/2019/oct/08/online-poor-part-time-job

Online, no one knows you're poor
Shauna M Ahern used to make her living by writing a food blog. But when times got tough, she realised keeping up appearances can make you lose sight of life’s meaning

But what if life's meaning is keeping up appearances?

I am a James Beard award–winning gluten‑free cookbook author. And for nine months, I worked in our local grocery store for $15 an hour.

1) I'm only giving her a pass on the "gluten-free cookbook author" gig because she is apparently diagnosed with celiac.
2) $15 an hour? Stocking groceries? I'm not saying that's a lot of money, but it's above average for unskilled workers.

Online, no one knows you are poor. No one is posting photos of the basket of bills overflowing, some of the envelopes with urgent stamped on them. Very few people write about the choices they make out of fear of going bankrupt, like selling expensive camera lenses that feel less important than rent.

Maybe they should. One gets weary of seeing people's carefully curated photos and videos of their perfect lives. It's like watching those sitcoms set in the big city where no one seems to have a real job and yet they live in enormous apartments. Other people see that shit and, consciously or unconsciously, they wonder why they can't measure up. But hey, maybe if I buy the products advertised during the next break, I'll finally have a perfect life too!

And few of us want to admit that we are struggling with money, even though we live in a culture where the rich have grown astronomically rich and the rest of us have grown anxious about health insurance. As my friend Ashley Ford wrote online one day: “I’m trying to choose an insurance plan, but I’m pretty sure the only good insurance is wealth.”

No one wants to bitch about being poor, but also no one wants to brag about being rich. In general, no one talks about money. I don't think this is a good attitude, even though I'm cagey about it myself.

But yes, the only good insurance is wealth. In the US, anyway. I'm assuming this is US because even though it's a British rag, everything's in dollars and the author writes with the sort of humblebragging that one generally only finds in this country.

I never shared online the time that my husband Danny and I looked at our bank account and saw $85 left for the last week of the month.

Well, you have now.

Still, we were like most Americans – living paycheck to paycheck (almost eight out of 10 Americans, according to reputable studies) and unable to pay for an unexpected bill of more than $500 (nearly six out of 10 Americans). We were struggling. And we were terrified. I realized that the mindset of worrying that we might go broke was damaging us.

I can't be arsed to check those numbers, but if true, they're kinda horrific. And yeah, being broke, or close to it, damages one's mind. The crappy cheap food you have to buy if you're poor doesn't help with that.

I found out that working part‑time at the grocery store – three days a week – would give me health insurance for the entire family.

Tying health insurance to employment is good for employers. Not great for people who'd rather spend their time running a small business.

I noticed that the people who lived on the day‑old breads looked around furtively to make sure no one saw when they reached into the discount bin.

And we've established, somehow, the idea that there's some sort of moral failing, some shamefulness, in being poor. Like human worth is somehow tied to net worth. This is utter bullshit.

I learned that very few people make the highly styled dishes offered on Instagram.

YA THINK?

Over and over, I saw that what my fellow recipe developers and I hashed out to make ourselves relevant – Vegan treats for the whole family! How to use hempseed! – was not being made in most homes. It humbled me.

Good. Veganism is a product of privilege. And yet the same people who tout a "vegan lifestyle" tend to be the ones who spout "check your privilege!" It's a jarring contradiction.

Danny is the one working three days a week now, expediting in a restaurant, mostly for the connection with our community. I no longer earn any money online.

I'm not sure "earn" is the right verb. And again - you are making money online, shilling your book on the Guardian's website. Hey, there's no shame in that, either. I'd love to make money from writing; I think many people here would. But if this is the kind of writing style in the book, I'm not interested.