How I Know I'm Not Rich

I grew up middle-class. We never took extravagant vacations, or had new cars, but we were comfortable. I was able to get most of what I asked for or wanted... School Field Trip to Italy? Yes. Dozens of basketball camps that would ultimately result in me getting a D3 scholarship and an invitation to walk on at The University of Sewanee? Yes. Did I eventually find out my parents had massive credit card debt? Yes.

After getting out of the construction business (my grandfather's profession), my father started and sold several businesses—once owning an Apple Store in the 90's back when they were called "Macintoshes." He lucked out on being an early investor/employee of a now-publicly-traded international company (the founder of which used to sell PCs in the same territory my dad was slinging Apples), and used some of that stock to purchase a small lake house on Lake Keowee. Privileged? Yes.

I never went without¹, and that's the environment I've wanted to most mimic for my own children. Do you need cigarettes for your sophomore video project on All Creatures Great and Small?² No worries. I'll go run out, and buy a pack. While we were not wealthy, I have certainly been around people who were.

I was zoned for a high school that pulled a majority of students from a certain neighborhood that... how best to put this? Has the most accomplished swim team. While not as old money as our rival high school, these were kids that have that certain type of premature balding only possible through generations of selective breeding, whose parents' parents have their surnames attached to a town plaza, or own a private AMTRAK car.

Several times in my life, I have run into that metaphorical brick wall—where you realize someone exists parallel to you. There is no possibility of a Venn Diagram here. I know what potted meat tastes like; they will never. These are five of those times.

I Can Guess With Relative Accuracy How Much Things Cost

One of the first times I recognized a disconnected common reality was when I accompanied my now-wife-then-fiancee on a vacation with the family she was doing an in-home preschool program for. I shy away from the term "nanny," because she wasn't required to do any cooking or cleaning or household chores sometimes snuck in with scope creep... she graduated with a degree in Early Childhood Education right as The Recession hit and the school district enacted a hiring freeze. She found a family who wanted preschool prep for their twins. They paid her more than a teacher's first-year salary, and offered insurance through the father's company. She was my sugar mama. I was making $22K/year at this point in my life. When they took a week-long vacation, they offered that I could go, as well. I'm pretty sure I had to submit a credit check just to get a car pass for the island.

The first day there, the dad gave me a $20 bill and asked me to get ice for the cooler. Now, even with being on a hoity-toity vacation island in 2008, what do you think one bag of ice would cost?

Even with today's price gouging, it would be like $10 max for a large bag. I drove to the grocery store to purchase one bag of ice. Upon my return, I gave him back his $12 in change. He looked at it with "Diddy Discovers A One-Dollar Bill" bewilderment, and exclaimed, "All right! Change." He either truly thought a bag of ice was $20, or every person he's given money to buy something just never gave the remainder back. What a wonderful way to live.

I Have No Idea What My Local Taxes Go To

I was having lunch with my bosses, and this "successful" consultant who turned out to be the biggest frauds (I raised concerns several times) I've ever come across, and who also stiffed the developer he was contracting for the work so bad that the developer, who we were told to refer to as "Ice Bucket," hacked into our company PayPal account and stole $20,000.³

Every one of them is a transplant from the midwest. I was the only one of 6 people who is native to the city. The usual banter began:

1. Weather
   1. (it's so nice here, not like where we are from)
2. Schools
   1. (we're renting a house while we're here and my son hates [aforementioned old money school]... oh really? [something vaguely racist about the income disparity], our kids go to the good Private School here])
3. How Good The Schools Are
   1. (the schools here are so bad, not like where we are from)
4. How Good The Roads Are
   1. (if they spent a fraction of the tax money they spend on [idk I was busy eating most of the shrimp cocktail that was brought out] the roads and schools could be better])

With my body sluggish with shrimp meat, and recognizing we've hit for the cycle on Afternoon Work Lunch Conversation Topics, I tuned back in hoping for a subject I could add value to. Unfortunately, I couldn't understand what they were talking about because they were now discussing the Arena Debt Service line item on our Property Taxes. When I heard the term "millage rate" my eyes glazed over, and I sucked off the last shrimp.

I Have Heard Another Human Scrape Toilet Paper Across Their Rectum in The Last 30 Days

To me, wealth is not a number. One million dollars sounds like a lot. But, it probably isn't. I could pay the rest of my mortgage, get rid of all my debt, and set up three college funds with that money. That's it. That doesn't feel wealthy to me. That feels secure. Is $10 Million wealthy? I don't know. Maybe. I think quantifying wealth to a dollar amount isn't the right way to go about it. As you get richer, your expenses increase (fucking Property Taxes, am I right, folks? the goddamn millage rates will kill ya!), and perhaps you still feel squeezed. True wealth brings prosperity, and ease.

When do you think the last time Warren Buffet was two feet away from another man fighting for his life in the stall next to him? That he could see another man crease his shoes to get up on his tip toes to gain leverage for the gauntlet he was trapped in. My guess is he wouldn't even understand that question. I don't even think you could play a sound recording of a toilet paper roll spinning, ripping, and roughly gliding across an asshole like peanut butter on a grouted tile floor to jog a memory from deep in Jeff Bezos' lizard brain. When I no longer can judge another man by whatever movements his shadow is making between toilet bowl splashes... I'll know I've made it. For now though, none of my bathrooms are private, and I pray that my loo-mates don't recognize my shoes and make eye contact with me when I walk back out into Sam's Club.

I Care About Loyalty Rewards

Airline miles are too fancy for me, but I can sympathize with those affected by that Delta SkyMiles change. When Sarku took away their punch cards I had to use PTO to take the afternoon off.

Technology has taken everything from me.

All I ever wanted, needed, was that damn stamp.

Surreally Out HereJustin Roberson

I've seen an ex-boss place a company Starbucks order in-store and just... pay for it without scanning anything. I almost passed out.

Most loyalty programs offer negligible value, which is why the introductory offer has to be good. I have so many unused gigabytes on my phone. It's nothing for me to add some janky app with awful UX and submit my social security number to get a drink upgrade.

I don't even use the points. Just love to accumulate. I once had over 25,000 McDonald's points that eventually expired because you can't redeem your points for something free, and then also use one of their App Deals in the same order. You also must wait 15 minutes before you are able to use another Deal or Rewards. So, if you order for yourself and just want a single burger that's fine. But if your wife is pregnant and it's 30 minutes before they close. You're just going to do the easiest thing possible and get the best deal (BOGO Burger/6-piece nugs, add $1 large drink, $3 for basket of fries).

A Full List of Apps That Are Currently Installed On My Phone Because I Wanted to Get Something Free Once:

• Chick-Fil-A
• Starbucks
• Hardee's
• Bojangles
• Fuddruckers
• Zaxby's
• Taco Bell
• McDonald's
• Burger King
• Mobile Bytes
• Sarku Japan
• Little Caesars
• Moe's
• Jeni's
• Pizza Hut
• Domino's
• Papa John's
• Dave & Buster's
• Sonic
• QuikTrip
• Spinx
• MyLidl
• Pamper's Club

I could care less what Fuddruckers is doing with my personal data. I hope someone deep inside the corporate headquarters basement is jacking off to my Fudds Club account. I wanted some free spuds once, and that's good enough for me. Why wouldn't I simply delete the apps after I use it once? Sorry. Do you hear yourself? That's not how loyalty works. I'm in this for life. Plus, what happens when you need a screenshot for your dumb newsletter to prove you have never told a lie, online? Patience is a virtue.

The most committed I have ever been was for a Spinx Chicken Biscuit, which is actually just two oversized chicken tenders delicately balanced inside a biscuit. For those not from South Carolina, Spinx⁴ is a gas station chain that is pretty unremarkable other than the fact that their limited kitchen makes some damn good fried chicken. If you happen to go into one in a rural area during lunchtime, there will be a wait because at least 5 people are getting fried gizzards or livers.

I had left my wallet at home. At the time of this incident, Spinx did not accept Apple Pay. However, you could use Xtras Pay (in-app payments) and "order ahead" some of their breakfast items. As I did not have my wallet, I did not have my debit card, and therefore could not add a payment method. Oh, but you could pay via ACH! While at the pump, I scoured my Google Drive for an old scanned copy of my Driver's License (Step 2 required me to add my DL# and the last four digits of my SSN), and then combed back through years of emails to find a copy of some real estate closing documents that had a scanned check on one of the pages. I now had my routing number (I have my account number memorized). After that, I was able to successfully link my bank account with a gas station's mobile app to order a chicken biscuit from the parking lot. Why would you go to all that trouble

1. You haven't had the chicken biscuit.
2. I was working from home, and used to stop here all the time when I had to go into the office, but on this day I had made the special 15 minute trip specifically to get this breakfast food item.
3. The Rewards. Ordering the chicken biscuit through the app gave me a free Monster Energy and a 10¢/gallon discount on gas.

Does any of this sound like something a rich person would do?

I Always Have Way Too Much Shit in My Hands When I'm Getting Out Of My Car For Some Reason And At The End Of The Day God Forbid I Have Some To-Go Food Because At Least One Cup is Getting Dropped While I Try To Open The Storm Door

When I get out of my Tahoe, cans fall out. When I sling my computer bag over my head, I knock my hat off. Now blinded by my bangs I reach under the car for my hat. While I'm down there I grab the loose cans, but not to take inside. They can be tucked into the crevice between the center console and the passenger seatbelt for safe keeping (I'm not supposed to be drinking energy drinks and my wife will see me on the front door camera). Of course, I brought my lunch to work like a pauper so I need to get it out of the floorboard of the passenger seat.

Aside: Doesn't matter how manly your Yeti lunch box is, or how gourmet the meal inside is (bacon-wrapped smoked pork tenderloin with homemade apple chutney) there are fewer things more demoralizing than "bringing your lunch to the office." My million dollar idea is a restaurant that you can drop off your bring-from-home workday lunch at in the morning and then go there during lunch to eat it so that you are saved the sadness of heating up a pyrex in front of acquaintances.

Luckily, since I stashed my cans I'm within reaching distance, but my computer bag gets snagged on the steering wheel so I can't lunge the last foot and grab it. I back out, and go around to the passenger side door to open it and retrieve the bag I sling this up on my shoulder but the strap is a little too short for that so it keeps falling down. To combat this behavior, I angle my shoulder up to look like Igor from Young Frankenstein (1974) . You already know, even though I wasn't supposed to, I picked up fast food on the way home, which I will now get from the middle row floor. In my left hand, I have my keys, which I can't put in my pocket because I have other keys (???) for stuff I don't know what for on the ring and a vintage Apple-branded Swiss-army knife with a removable, reusable toothpick and it's uncomfortable. I also have my phone because I still need to finish the article I was reading while driving, and now the fast food bag is precariously held between my palm and my ring and pinky fingers. The drink cups have soda droplets all on the outside, which means I can't tuck it into my arm to carry or else I might stain my clothes. There's no napkins in the bag. What's the solution? Hold the cup up and take a big long lick. Something that a hitherto unseen neighbor witnesses while they are at their mailbox.

I now have two drink cups tucked in mh left arm, which is holding all that other shit, and one cup in my right hand. Why the imbalance? Well, despite texting my wife 5 minutes earlier letting her know that I am on the way with the food she told me not to get and to please unlock the doors... the door is locked. And since there is no longer any fanfare when my children see that I have returned from war and pull into the driveway, no one is there to help me. I must keep one hand free to open the storm door and punch in the keypad code to unlock the door. Unfortunately, as I open the house door the storm door closes on my heel because I never really quite understood how to fix it so that the close tension was correct. The surprise attack makes me squeeze me left arm a little too tight and the lid pops off one of the drink cups and spills all down my arm and pants. I licked that cup for nothing. Wouldn't it be great if that was a drink meant for someone else in the house? It sure would be. But it's not. It's mine. And they didn't listen when I asked for light ice so the 4 oz that spilled out of the large Coca-Cola Zero Sugar is actually all the drink that was in there. Congratulations! I get to suck on some ice instead.

Have you ever seen someone get out of a G-Wagon? Nothing in their hands. On the off-chance they are walking into an office. You might see them with the tiniest bag that is only slightly big enough to fit a laptop with no room for an adapter or charging cable. It is exactly 1" thick, 12" wide and 8" long... but enough about me.

¹ It should be noted my salary is more than what my dad was making 20 years ago. Why am I unable to provide the same amount of comfort for my progeny that he was able to? Who knows. An unsolvable mystery.

² Though I certainly did things that were deceitful, I never took advantage of my parents' kindness. I was rewarded for this by my mother trusting me when I would make an urgent, odd request. Another good example of this was the day I asked her to fax in an excuse that I would be out that day, because I "was really not feeling school, and if I go I'm not going to learn anything, and I just want to play beach volleyball all day."

³ The Pakistani developer's real name was Muhammad Basham. I never saw anything that hinted that he asked to be called Ice Bucket. Or that he had an online moniker/github username/personal email address that connected him to "Ice Bucket." The contractor was stringing him along on payment, so he hacked our PayPal. He also sneakily edited the code so that when transaction fees occurred on our site that a fraction of the money would funnel into his PayPal account instead of ours. It was a good attempt. He was so close. I hope he's doing well.

⁴ The rumor is that there was a gentleman's agreement between Spinx and QuikTrip (like Wal-Mart and K-Mart's "You stay on that side of the Miss-i-sip, and we'll stay on this side of the Miss-i-sip") that Spinx would stay in South Carolina. But then one day, Stuart Spinx decided that he was going to expand south. Since that fateful day years ago, QT has opened a new location no less than 40 yards from every Spinx location. That's my kid of petty.