Growing up, we never had much money. I was raised by a single mother who did everything she could. We had a roof over our head and food on the table, but the luxuries in life were often out of reach.
Occasionally my mother would save up some money and we would buy a used car or get cable. I would think: Wow this is what having more money does? This is awesome! Especially the cable.
Today I work as a writer. And like most writers, I’m broke. On the plus side, writers are also the most passionate and generous lovers to ever walk this planet. But since the good Lord apparently chose to make me good at sex instead of good at money, I’ve had to keep my other dreams as just that: dreams. Among my most persistent dreams is the one where I actually have some scratch. Not, like, buckets of the stuff—just enough to change my life slightly. I call these: My Broke Goals.
Having Verizon Wireless
This has long been a dream of mine since I walked into a Verizon Wireless store years ago, and was asked for my social security number to run a credit check. Credit check?! I’m trying to buy a phone, not secure a loan to buy an oil field in Nigeria. If I need good credit just to play Candy Crush, then I’m out of luck. Just because I’ve defaulted on every loan I’ve ever taken out — that means I should be denied the basic human right to have an iPhone? What has this world come to?
Ordering something other than a special at a restaurant
Just once I would like to go to a restaurant and have money be no option. I don’t like the fact that I have to look at the specials — but that’s just my reality. I dream of the day where I could get what I want, not what I can afford. I dream of a day where I can gladly say: “Yes, I’ll have an appetizer.”
The soft-drink-pace struggle is real.
What appetizers would I have? Anything involving shrimp! Seafood, after all, is really expensive! And I’ll know I’ve really arrived when I no longer have to ask if the refills are free! I get very thirsty when I eat, and I have to know going in if I have to pace my soft drink. There, I said it. The soft-drink-pace struggle is real.
Being able to respond to plans quicker
Many people think I’m late to respond to plans because I’m lazy or don’t like them. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m late responding to plans because I’m broke. “Thank you for inviting me to the new superhero movie, I would love to go, but I don’t know if I have enough to cover the IMAX glasses that you insist we use. What’s wrong with standard definition?” But if I say that — I come off looking broke, which I am. I just don’t want other people to know I’m broke. Maybe I shouldn’t have written this piece. So the next time you’re wondering why I’m dragging my feet to respond to your paintball invitation, it’s not because I don’t like your new girlfriend, it’s because they charge extra for the good goggles.
Putting premium gas in my car
I’ve been a car owner for many years, and never once have I put anything in my tank above regular. One day, just one day, I want the satisfaction of pulling into my local gas station and seeing the look on the guy’s face when I say premium instead of regular. Will he think I got a promotion? Will he think I just robbed the bank? Will he not give a crap because he’s pumping my gas and probably broker than me? I have a lot of questions I’d like answered!
Entering a store with intent—rather than just empty pockets
Most people who are broke know window shopping is often the closest they get to actual shopping. For me, it’s gotten to the point that if I go to my local mall and just look at enough items, I feel like I’ve actually gone shopping. The best is when you go to a store and ask about the prices of things, knowing full well you have no money. Even if that leather jacket you’re eyeing cost three bucks (unlikely!), it wouldn’t make any difference, because you have no dollars! As in: zero. And the store workers know this. How? Because you keep going to the same stores and never buying anything.
I had to wait until I was 16 and had a part-time job so I could buy my own Jordan’s.
Since I was a kid I have always loved Air Jordan’s. They were the ultimate status symbol growing up. If you had Jordan’s back in the day, that meant your family had money. It’s funny thinking about that now, because most of us lived in the housing projects, so how much money did our folks really have? My mother refused to buy me a sneaker so expensive. I had to wait until I was 16 and had a part-time job so I could buy my own Jordan’s.
Now Jordan’s seem like a distant dream. No chance of me buying them any time soon. But that’s okay—at least I can always go online window shopping.
