The Price I’ve Paid For Being Poor

In the winter of 2006, I made a bold decision: I quit a fairly good job and decided to return to college to finish my undergraduate degree.

One of the hardest things about this decision was that my wife and I would effectively cut our income in half so that I could be a full-time student; while we’d been able to afford many things when I’d been working, we had to make the decision to “scale back” on our lifestyle so we could survive on a reduced income.

A year and a half later, as I’m nearly finished with school, things have gotten tough. Like most people in the US, we’re getting hurt by the wildly increasing costs of food and fuel, but since we’re on a reduced income, we feel it even more than a lot of folks. It’s resulted in us cutting back wherever possible — while we ate out regularly when I was working, we can only afford to do so once a month now, and we often try to eat at places where the portions are large so we can take the leftovers home for a second (and sometimes, third!) meal. We avoid fast food altogether, and we’ve started to shop at discount grocery stores like Aldi and the Hostess/Wonder Bread Thrift stores to keep our day-to-day expenses down. We both drive low-frill, fuel-efficient cars, and we’ve tried to reduce our driving as much as possible; this isn’t easy to do, though, since I have a part-time job in St. Louis and have to drive 40 miles to school every day. (Fortunately, my wife’s job is right around the corner, which offsets my driving a bit.)

But all that cost-cutting still isn’t enough, because we’re still struggling to pay our bills. Under the old system, I bought a lot of stuff, whenever I wanted it — books, video games, DVDs and toys. Now, I’m faced with the task of packing a lot of this stuff up and selling it on Half.com, because I’m too busy to get any joy out of it, and too broke to be able to afford to keep it around. And it’s tough, because some of this stuff has sentimental value, while other items are just things I’d like to say I own, even if I never use them. For example, I’m selling off my graphic novel collection because I never read the things, but it bugs me terribly that should I want to read them, I won’t have the option.

All of this has put me into somewhat of a funk, because whether I like to admit it or not, I’m attached to my stuff, and I really hate to get rid of it. Never mind that it just sits around the house, collecting dust; never mind that I often forget that I even have it. It’s my STUFF, darn it, and I hate the fact that I’m so poor that I have to sell it off just so I can buy groceries, pay my bills and put gas in my car.

Now, my situation will improve once I start grad school this fall, so don’t feel sorry for me… hopefully, my suffering is merely temporary. But while I’m feeling sorry for myself and moping about how much it sucks to be poor, I’ve decided to try to learn from this experience and pass on some of the things I’ve realized in the process.

1) When I had money, I spent a lot of it on junk. As I’ve been looking for things I’m willing to sell online, I’ve come across all sorts of things that I don’t remember buying. I’ve also found lots of things that I bought and promptly forgot about, and things that I bought and never used. Why did I buy this stuff? Because I wanted to have it. I intended to use it, but I never got around to it.

What are these things? Toys I bought that I never played with. Books I bought that I never read. Video games that I wanted to own, but never found the time to play. CDs I never made time to listen to. DVDs that never even made it out of the shrink wrap.

I can’t help but wonder if I might have been able to avoid being poor by shopping less impulsively and putting my money into savings. Considering how much I spent on some of this junk, that’s actually pretty likely.

2) When I had money, I spent a lot of it on food. My wife and I used to eat out 5-6 times a week; mostly fast food, but often restaurant fare as well. We did this because we both worked and we rarely were home at the same time; it was just easier to meet for a meal. But when I realized that we were spending $400-500 a month on eating out, I was shocked; after all, we were spending $300-400 on groceries, too, and often throwing out fruit and vegetables that we’d bought with the best of intentions, but were never home to eat.

Now, we have to budget ourselves to around $250 a month for food, and that’s it. $50 goes a long way at a place like Aldi, where everything’s pre-packaged and heavily discounted, but it barely gets you a single paper bag of food at a regular grocery store, especially if you purchase fresh fruits and vegetables and halfway-decent meat.

We cook every day, now, and we prepare meals to generate leftovers that we can have for lunch the next day. We keep a bin in our kitchen full of small servings of snacks we’ve loaded into little baggies so we can quickly grab items for our lunches in the morning. We buy bread at the thrift shops and freeze it when we’re not using it so that it will last longer. We’ve switched from drinking soda and pre-made juices down to concentrates, homemade tea, and Kool-Aid.

3) When I had money, I didn’t think about it. Now that I don’t have it, I think about it constantly. We can’t afford to impulse buy anymore, and that’s a lot harder than it sounds. When I had money, it was no big deal to stop at the Gas Mart for a candy bar and a Coke; now, I have to keep on driving and remind myself that I have food at home.

Where this is particular irritating is in the area of clothing; we’d love to update our wardrobes, but we have to continue wearing the same clothes that we have because we can’t afford to go out and buy a bunch of clothes. My wife had to get a dress for a wedding a few weeks ago, and we had to find a sale item at Kohl’s and maximize all the discounts we could muster just to afford it. I needed a suit a few months back, because my good one had a flaw in it; I had to get one from Goodwill because that was all I could afford.

Being poor has made me extremely price sensitive as well. I think about driving in terms of the price of gas, now — “I’ll be making an $8 trip to St. Louis, then a $6 trip to school.” I can’t buy groceries without thinking about whether or not I can find them cheaper at another store, and I can’t be spontaneous about going out with friends because I can’t afford it and I don’t want them to feel obligated to pay my way.

4) When I had money, I didn’t feel rich. But now that I don’t have money, I definitely feel poor. If you’d asked me how I felt when I was making a normal salary, I wouldn’t have said that I was rich — I was actually racking up more credit card debt when I had money than I am now. Maybe it’s because I’m watching my money more carefully, or maybe it’s because that debt is still hanging over my head and I don’t want to add to it. But still, it’s interesting to note: at nearly double what we’re making now, we were living much further beyond our means than we could ever afford to live now.

5) When I had money, I wasn’t any happier than I am now. Less stressed, perhaps, and less prone to being depressed. But all this junk I bought didn’t make me happy; it just made me want more junk. I told myself I was building a “collection,” but what I was really doing was amassing piles of stuff I didn’t need. Fortunately, other people want it, so I can sell it. I might make back 50% of what I spent, and that’s better than nothing, I suppose. But if I’d saved that money in the first place, I’d be in much better shape than I am now.

This isn’t to say that I’m anti-materialism; some of the things I own I enjoy tremendously, and I use them all the time, such as my computer, my PSP, or my frying pot in my kitchen. But the number of things I use regularly is small; the number of things I have and never use is large. I could be just as happy without most of this stuff as I am in owning it.

I’ve thought a lot about the word “consumer,” and I’ve come to a realization: I’m at this point because I’ve been using purchasing stuff as a means to an end — buying things I don’t need to make me temporarily happy or fulfilled. Often, I’ve bought stuff just so I can say that I have it. That’s not very smart of me. But I have a feeling that I’m not the only person who’s done this…

And that brings me around to my closing thought here. When I’m no longer poor, and I have money again… will I repeat this cycle and buy back all the junk I’ve purged from my life?

I wish I had an easy answer.

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Journal | SeanJJordan | June 24, 2008 12:00 am

5 Comments

By Aaron Wakling, June 24, 2008 @ 12:15 am

Just wanted to say HI. I found your blog a few days ago on Technorati and have been reading it over the past few days.
By Jason maranto, June 25, 2008 @ 2:57 pm

I know the feeling the last 5 years have been nearly non-existent with the gallery and now establishing myself as a freelancer again — I’ve just gotten used to not spending any money at all… don’t miss it much at this point either.

Fight Club which is probably my favorite movie has a line in it that goes something like “we work jobs we don’t like to buy stuff we don’t need.”

I think that sums up the American way these days — I know I’ve broken those habits, but I sold the stuff that had any value a long long time ago. I think I’m better off for the experiences, maybe you will be too.

Best,
Jason.
By Katie, June 28, 2008 @ 11:16 am

Sean… I had no idea this sort of thing was going on. I’m so sorry, but is that the right thing to say?

I’m incredibly sentimental about things I own, even dumb things with no monetary value at all — scraps of paper with notes on them from my family or friends, those old flyers for the parties we’d have at EB Games, price tag stickers off things I’ve bought. I think I’ve grown to believe that somehow by removing these items from my life, I’m removing PARTS of my life; that without those trinkets and bits of paper around to remind me of what’s in the past, I won’t remember. And maybe that’s true, of some things. Maybe it takes a torn piece of notebook paper to remind you of a specific incident, but I’m definitely a slave to my stuff.

Agreed with Jason on the Fight Club line. I actually listen to that one remixed song whenever I want to feel stronger about life in general, to stop focusing on things that don’t matter and stay fixated on what does. But where am I right now? At the moment, I’m incredibly angry and resentful that someone else on eBay is outbidding me on a Revolver Ocelot action figure. Isn’t that ridiculous? It’s not like I NEED the thing, but I WANT it, and those two become confused so, so often…

I don’t know what to tell you, really. I guess just know that I feel the same way about hoarding things. Honestly, the only way I’ve survived on my own to this point was largely by using up money in my savings account, money that my parents put away for me. I’d like to think that when I get a non-retail job I’ll be making more money and be better about spending it, but time and again for many people that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Maybe I need to hit rock bottom before I can see the way to climb back up.

Best of luck with everything. Call me anytime, okay?
By SeanJJordan, June 28, 2008 @ 11:34 am

I’ll admit, when I posted that article, I was a bit on the emotional side. But hey, I like to try to learn from past mistakes, and the five points I posted are really good things for me to keep in mind down the road.

I tend to look at it as a sacrifice — I have to go through this now because I’m trying to score a better life (and income) for us later. And I’m not nearly as poor now as I was when in 2002, when I was living on ramen noodles and peanut butter and working 3 part time jobs.

But yeah, it sucks when you realize that your stuff has been contributing to your feeling of self-worth. Which begs the question… is it possible to live well and not be defined by what you own?
By Debbie, July 2, 2008 @ 8:14 am

It’s all about perspective, Sean. We’ve had to live on pretty tight budgets for most of our 32 years of marriage. With three boys and one income for most of the time you were growing up, money was not plentiful. However, we tried to live within our means. I hope that in spite of the fact that we lived rather modestly, you felt mostly happy and well cared for. There was always plenty of food (even if sometimes the soda was generic), clothing (though we had to get stuff on sale), a secure and safe home (not a mansion, but adequate for our needs), and reliable cars to drive (those minivans and other second hand cars were a blessing). Though we spent many vacations in Florida with relatives, we still had the opportunity to go and do things many of your friends envied. I know you remember sometimes you and your brothers had to eat out on $3.33 a piece, because I only had ten dollars to splurge with (and I usually just got a soda because that’s all I could afford). But, you became analytical at at how to make the most of it! Due to our limited allowance system, you became creative in many ways when it came to earning money, which give us some memorable stories about “Sean in the making”.
I hope you will embrace this period of struggling as a learning opportunity to set the priorities you will have in the future with your own family. In a few years when things are more financially stable, you will remember the lean times, but will realize it could have been much worse. You will also be a wiser consumer and think more seriously about friviolous purchases.
I am so proud of you, and how you have dedicated yourself to making the necessary sacrifices to acheive your goals. It know it’s not easy, but believe it or not, fulfilling your educational goals will mean more to you than all the material things you’ve sold on ebay. That’s something you can’t lose in a fire, have stolen, or sell…it’s a personal achievement that no material possession will ever be able to compete with in making you feel worthy and confident in the years to come. Stay the course (no pun intended), and keep focused. We’re here if you need us. :O) —mom

Writing Scraps

by Sean J. Jordan