Your payroll information has arrived. I love those words. Instantly, I am humbled. Once again, I am provided for. True, by the work of my own hands, my efforts. This is not a handout or a free gift. I have been paid. Paid for my expertise, my organization, my ability to persevere. True, I have put forth the effort, given my best work ethic, earned these dollars. But I have been acknowledged – acknowledged with a paycheck. Why does this continue to amaze me? Because I know that feeling, that tired, burned out, wrung-out feeling of giving my all; throwing myself into a project and reaping too little reward for too big a piece of my life. I have experienced much in six decades. I have been self-employed and been the self-sacrificing partner of the self-employed. I have been a business owner and have also been a paid employee in times when every earned cent was spoken for before it transferred to my account. Survival for the next 30 days was precarious, outcome unknown. Your payroll information has arrived. The financial math is done. A plan is laid. The money will be parceled out. Some to share. Some to save. Some to spend. Bills will be paid. Your payroll information has arrived. Your needs are provided for. Be at peace now for 30 days.
Category Archives: Poverty
Help Me, and other difficult phrases
“I hate to ask for help,” she said. Clichés are often true. In this case, apples don’t fall far from the tree. Go ahead, Google “Hardest words to say,” and see what you come up with.
I am sorry
I am wrong
I don’t know
I love you
Help me
That is a list I can identify with. How about you?
Why is it so hard to ask for help?
I fear rejection. They might say no. They may think less of me for needing help.
I fear to impose. They might want to say no, yet feel like they have to say yes. They have so many other burdens to carry. I don’t want to be just one more.
I am independent. I can do it myself. Besides, others often fail me. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.
If I ask and they help me, they may hold it up to me forever saying, “You would be nothing had I not helped you.”
I want control of the outcome. They might help, but not help in the way I want.
I need affirmation – support for my plan. They might offer advice. Opinion. Tell me how to do it instead of just supporting my plan.
Have you experienced some or all these anxious feelings when you needed help?
What if you need help and you don’t ask for help? You may injure yourself. You may get burned out, exhausted or ill, trapped. What if you just wait for someone to see your need and offer? You kind of huff and puff and hint and sigh. They may reject you anyway. Seeing your need, they may offer or foist help on you whether you want it or not -give you pink preppie skirts when you needed hiking boots. One way or another, they will doubtless offer advice and opinion.
So why not ask specifically for what you need? Choose your confidant or potential benefactor carefully. If you need a car mechanic, a medical doctor is probably not a good substitute. A multi-level marketer may not be your best counselor, nor does your great grandma a sturdy piano mover make. Go ahead and choose with care. Ask. Then trust them a little bit. A wise helper might teach you how to fish. They might lend you their fishing gear. They might have greater insight into your roadblocks and challenges and give wise counsel – a needed boost rather than a ruthless kick in the pants.
But if they say, “Hey, I know you are desperate for money. Let’s talk about getting you a loan! (or buying lottery tickets – or robbing a bank – or some other get-rich quick scheme).” Nah! Withdraw your request and run the other way. Helping you spend or helping you into debt is not helping you.
You can ask for help and still remain yourself and guard your heart. We all need a little help of one kind or another from time to time. May you – and I – have the wisdom and discernment to know when to ask for help and the dignity to receive help without selling out our deepest dreams or indenturing our spirits to shame.
A Precious Journey: Chapter 2
In Chapter 1, My Precious Left Me, Traveler stumbles on a cave and meets the Man. You can find and read Chapter 1, on the pull-down bar, Precious’ Journey.
Chapter 2: Traveler goes to the city
Now the traveler had become curious to know more about Precious. He was heading through the City anyway, so he stopped at the bakery to inquire if anyone remembered her.
He could hear the chatty voice before he pulled open the heavy glass door. “Yes, it was a trunk showing and everything was half off! Half off, I tell you! And they wouldn’t take a credit card.” Obviously, she caught sight of him because she turned away and checked her hair in the reflection. “ Te he. Isn’t that awful? Well, gotta go. Someone’s coming in. You know how Mr. Baker gets if I don’t greet the customer right away. No, it’s a he not a bride. Call me later.” She whirled her chair around, and stood, self-consciously smoothing a skirt that would not have been out of place on a high school ingenue – or perhaps just two inches longer.
“May I help you?” she emphasized each word separately.
“Ah, yes. I hope so,” said the traveler. “I am looking for information about someone who used to work here – a woman named Precious.”
“She left her Man.”
“So I heard.”
“I knew him first – before he met Precious. He was pretty good looking in high school. Hey, but that was 20 years ago. I’ve been thinking about running up to the cave and checking on him – seeing if he needs anything. ”
“Do you know why she left him?”
“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t any of the reasons I wanted to leave my man.”
The raised eyebrows of the traveler gave her permission to continue.
“No. Precious didn’t think I had grounds. It was something about tough love. Oh, she listened to me; I mean she listened to me on break. Precious frowned on girl talk when we were supposed to be working. Said something about an honest day’s work for wages or excellence and best effort – those kinds of words. I didn’t get how not talking was honest. I like to get it all out there. I’m honest about my feelings. She must have been on the side of the boss. Come to think of it, I think she was in cahoots with the boss. Cause she got the boss man to give me a second chance after I messed up on the wedding cake orders. She must have sweet talked him something fierce. Anyway, Precious, she says, ‘Phyllis, I talked to the boss. I told him I thought you would be a fast learner if I took a little time before work each morning to show you how cake decorating and ordering work.’
So, I asked her, ‘how do you know all that? About sugar cane and powdered sugar? And white cake flour coming from wheat? Did you learn that because of your man being a horror culturalist?’ She said she learned all that – that she learned how to cook and how things work when she was still living at home in high school. Can you believe it? She actually cooked while she was in college. And, she baked bread to earn money while her man was in grad school! That’s how she landed the job at this bakery. I guess she even did a wedding cake for one of her friends.”
“Did you say the husband of Precious went to grad school?”
“Yes, that’s what he did. In high school, he always wanted to be a botanicalist. But then he changed his mind and became a horror, horror…” “Horticulturalist.” prompted the traveler.
“Anyway, but, he didn’t finish. At first, I thought Precious said he didn’t finish grade school. I knew that wasn’t right on accounta me knowing him in high school. She explained to me the different levels of schooling.”
“So you met Precious at this job?”
“Hey, it is just about break time now! I’m really glad that phone hasn’t rang while we were talking. I’ll take a smoke break even though I don’t smoke. But you could buy me coffee. I don’t have any money – my man took away my debit card – but you can buy. You don’t mind, do you? He didn’t say I couldn’t drink a latte, he just said I couldn’t buy more than one a week.”
“And ya know,” she said, patting the traveler’s arm. “It would be good for me to be seen with you. I wouldn’t mind, not one little bit.” The traveler acquiesced.
Tall latte. Short iced mint. The traveller collected them from the counter and sat down in the moulded booth across from Phyllis.
“So, you don’t think Precious left her man for the same reason you wanted to leave yours?”
“Nope. No way. My man took away my Old Navy and Macy’s charge cards!”
“You don’t say.”
“He told me I had to quit shopping and start cooking.”
“You didn’t cook?”
“Are you kidding? I went to secretary school. I know how to type. I was trained about proper office at tire. Then, of course, I have to have something fun to wear when I’m not at the office. We go to baseball games on the weekends. So I was always busy shopping the sales for the best deals. I didn’t have time to cook. I work so I can shop. After the stores close, I stop for carry out on the way home.”
“Your husband got tired of carryout?”
“Yeah, I thought that was the real reason. I think he was trying to control me into coming home after work and cooking dinner. He said it was because I had charged more than I made that month. My Old Navy card was maxed out. He said he had paid my store cards. But if they were paid, what’s the harm in me shopping? I think he just wanted a homestyle meal.”
“So, he took your charge cards and insisted you come home after work and cook?”
“Can you believe it? Always before he was okay with having dinner late. He didn’t get home until nine anyway because he was working an extra job. I was ready to leave him. Next day, I was asking around work for a roommate. Then me and Tiki and Precious went on break. Tiki, she’s the one that got me this job in the first place.”
“So you met Precious at this job?”
“Well, yeah, we came at the same time, but, I really got to know her better when they were going to fire me.”
The traveler raised his eyebrows quizzically.
“Hard to believe, isn’t it, since I had been to secretary school?”
The traveler nodded just enough to nudge her forward.
“It was the wedding cakes. I still don’t see why they should be so expensive. I was just trying to help out the brides.”
The traveller murmured appropriately.
“The wedding cakes, you know, with three tiers? Well, they are three or four hundred dollars.”
Again the traveler nodded.
“But, on the next page over – it’s the third pull down tab on the website – there are all these cakes separately. 6” two layers for $10. 8” for $12.00. 10 inches for $18.00 and that big one on the bottom? only $30 bucks for the round one or $35.00 for the square! So, this one bride came in, and she was really on a budget, poor really. And I added up the total and was telling her to buy them all separately for under a hundred dollars!” She laughed.
“Did they have frosting on them?”
“Now how did you figure that out? Are you a baker? That’s exactly what Precious explained to me. I don’t know how she did it, but Precious knew how to do just about everything. She could type and she didn’t even go to secretary school. She could write the wedding cake orders and she wasn’t a baker.”
“So, Precious was pretty smart?”
“Yeah, Kiki said she was fastididus, fastdious,
“Fastidious?”
“Yes, only in a good way, not a bad way.”
“So, Precious thought it wasn’t a good idea to leave your husband?”
“Not Precious and not Kiki. Kiki said you’re just supposed to stay together no matter what. Marriage is for life. The only reason you should leave your husband is if he hits you or if he is, you know, having an A-fair with someone else.”
“Many people feel that way.”
“Precious said it sounded like maybe my husband was doing an invention, an indevention,”
“Intervention?”
“Yeah, that’s the word, tough love or something.”
“He paid off your cards?”
“Yep.”
“And then he said you couldn’t use them anymore?
“Yep. Boy, was I mad. I said I wasn’t going to live anymore with a man that mean.”
“What did Precious say about that?”
“She said maybe he really did love me, cause after all, he paid off my charge cards. She said maybe he just wanted to get my attention about overspending. I said I didn’t see how taking away my charge cards was loving. She asked did he give me some grocery money for the cooking.”
“Did he?”
“Not any cash! All he gave me was a grocery card with two hundred dollars on it.
A grocery card! Just thinking about it made me so mad I started bawling again. And then Precious said, she said it was a waste of energy to cry.”
“So Precious didn’t show any sympathy?”
“She said, ‘why cry when you can do something about it?’”
“Did she want you to get back at him?”
“She said I should do an experiment.”
“A science experiment?”
“Yes, sort of. She wrote me instructions. Go to the Grocery store. A list of things to buy. How to mix the ingredients and put them in the oven. There was supposed to be enough for that dinner and some left-overs for my lunch the next day.”
“Did you do the experiment?”
“Yes, and I gotta say, it tasted real good. My man thought so too. ‘You did good babe, real good,’ he said. He said he was proud of me. He called me his little kitten. Then he told me some other things that would make you blush if I repeated them. And we, well, we kissed and made up.”
“So, he wasn’t being mean after all?”
“Naw, he said he was sorry he had to take my charge cards and I couldn’t have them back, but he would try to make it up to me by adoring me,” she giggled delightedly. “So Precious, each day she wrote me an easy recipe. She told me I could still keep on shopping as long as I did it in the grocery store.”
“So, you said Precious didn’t ever cry when she could do something about it?”
“I only saw Precious cry just that once.”
The traveller raised his eyebrows.
“It was that same week.
We were on break again and Kiki was saying how married people should always stay together no matter what. She started telling a story about how her parents stayed together. And Precious, she acted really funny.”
“Did Precious agree with Kiki’s story?”
“No, I don’t think so. But, I didn’t really get why Precious was crying. It was just a story, something about a man who ate and ate. It reminded me of the joke where the doctor tells a man to watch his weight and the man says, ‘so I just got my weight out here where I could see it,’ he he.”
“So, a story about a fat man made Precious cry?”
“It was Kiki’s dad. He got fat while her mom was getting thinner and thinner.”
The Traveler tipped his head to the side and waited.
“Kiki was home-schooled. That way her mom saved a lot of money on clothes. They were poor so her mom cooked a lot of beans. Kiki says her mom was a self sack official for the kids.”
“Self-sacrificial?”
“Yes, that’s it. So Kiki’s mom just ate a little bit and she divided the rest between the kids and made sure there were lots of beans in her husband’s lunch. Later on they found out Kiki’s dad was just going to McDonald’s and buying himself a hamburger for lunch after he finished the beans. Then, at night, he would run errands and buy himself another hamburger.”
“He was starving his wife and kids and getting fat himself?”
“Yes. Isn’t that awful?”
“What did Precious say?”
“That’s what was so strange. ‘Cause Precious, you know, she’s the one who says, ‘There’s no use crying over something if you can do something to fix it.‘ She was crying. Without making any noise. The tears were just running down her cheeks.
”And then she said, real quietly she said, ‘I think neglecting someone to the point of starving them while you got fat – might be a good reason for leaving.” Kiki and I both stared at her. Then she stood up because it was time to go back inside. And she said something else, but it sounded like maybe she was talking to herself.”
The traveller leaned forward attentively,
“Do you remember what else she said?”
“‘It’s not always about food. There are other ways to starve a person.’ What duya think she meant by that?”
The traveler stroked his chin thoughtfully, and rose.
“Say, it’s about time for me to get back to the office. Would you mind getting me a refill? One for the road, so to speak.”
He walked Phyllis back to the stoplight, saw her safely across the street.
“One more question,” he said.
“Do you think Precious left her man to become a Goblin Princess?”
“What? Precious?” she sputtered. She tossed her head coyly, “Well, now, I might think of becoming a Goblin Princess – ‘specially if someone was to give me all the gold and jewelry I wanted. But Precious? What would the men see in her? Precious is more steady and self-sackaficial like Kiki’s Mom – only she dresses nice.”
Note: in Chapter One, the Man accuses Precious of leaving to become a Goblin Princess. You can read the first chapter by choosing, Precious’ Journey from the tab at the top of this page.
Make music or make a living?
Is it true that you can’t follow your heart and still make enough money to live on?
How many musicians labor, toil, worry, and obsess about that? How many suffer the regular admonitions of those more responsible folks around us who tell us to be sensible, you’ll never make money as a musician?
“You lads and lasses should always remember that 24 record companies turned the Beatles down and that John’s Aunt Mimi said, ‘The guitar’s all very well, John, but you’ll never earn a living with it.’”
Is it true? Must I find something non-creative, less artistic, by which to earn a living?
At the moment, I am beginning a full-time job that aligns with my other education and hobbies; my organizational fastidiousness, love of walking and out-door beauty, fascination with history and what makes people tick. But while I give wholehearted effort at the office for 40 or more hours each week, will I give up my music?
No way. I will continue to raise young musicians. I will continue to play and sing for others every chance I get. I’m not going to let go of that piano anytime soon. That would be to rip out a part of my heart and soul. Besides – I’ll let you in on a secret:
Over the years I have made more money in music than any other avenue I have ever worked. Am I often a starving musician? Yes. but I have been able to make much needed money off this gig ever since I was 15.
Why I loathe friendship evangelism and network marketing, Part Four: Isolation
Why do I loathe network marketing and friendship evangelism? It makes me feel isolated, like I really am the only one.
Nothing depresses me more than unrelenting poverty. When I have done my best, beat the streets, thought of every angle (and it is acknowledged I think too much) – and I don’t know where the rent is coming from at the end of the month – or even where my next full meal is coming from, I am more ready to throw in the towel than at any other time. Relentless bills. Poverty.
At this end of the rope phase, I consider all the possibilities, I put the word out to friends and family that I am job-hunting. An old family friend calls, “We have a job opportunity where I work. Come by the office and see me.” It sounds entry level, but I am ready to do anything. I will wash dishes, clean toilets, take out the trash before I will go delinquent on my bills, be homeless, or especially before I will use my piano for firewood.
I arrive at the appointed time. There are pleasantries of getting to know each other once again. Then my friend introduces a way to add to my income; a plan by which I can make money by sharing a multi-level marketing plan.
Can we have a sincere relationship, please? Okay, I know you brought me here to share a good thing with me, not to give you a lesson in logic, but consider this: Your product saves money only if I have been using the most expensive services out there. I am already as frugal as common sense can make me.
Many of these plans are wonderful for making extra money – particularly if they are products you buy anyway and you are essentially co-oping. But, if hard times are already standing so close to your door you have eliminated toothpaste or hair conditioner or food from your budget, you are not looking for a way to earn extra money, you need immediate basic money. The secret is not in a better budget, or better product. The secret is earning money to budget.
You see, I already have a way to earn extra money – it is called persistent music and writing. If I devote as much time and effort to music gigs and free-lance writing jobs as it would take to make cold calls and pursue old friends long forgotten (only for the sake of recruiting them); I assure you, I will make as much extra money working my passion as I would working your multi-level program.
With regard to friendship evangelists and net-work marketers; I am sad. I really wanted your friendship and friendship is something you didn’t think to give me until you had a money motive or an honor and reputation motive. You saw me as an opportunity for another notch in your belt.
And now, I am done ranting about the disappointments, shame, isolation; and the used and discarded feeling of Friendship Evangelism and Net-Work Marketing.
Next posts: some friendship networking that builds genuine lifelong friendships.
The piano is not firewood yet
“The Piano is not firewood yet,” this phrase, from lyrics and music by Regina Spektor, is my new battle song – my new anthem.
I shout, “The piano is not firewood yet!” and it is the voice of John Paul Jones bellowing, “I have not yet begun to fight.”
I hear the voice of God asking in the wilderness, “What have you got in your hand, Moses?” and Moses replying, “A rod.”
“Throw it on the ground, Moses.”
The voice calls to me,
“What have you got in your hand?”
I reply, “A Piano!”
For me, Regina Spektor’s lyrics are literal. Maybe for others, metaphorical. But here’s the deal, It is summer weather. I have four more months of warmth in this 365 days to live, so the piano is not firewood yet; though it has been dangerously threatened over the years. But, if it is not going to be dismantled to keep us from freezing, might it be taken from me another way?
Metaphorically, is it collateral? Capital? A sacrificial lamb? What possibilities does it present? Is it merely to attract more students? Is it to rehearse my fingers for performance? Is it setting there between me and my empty wood box, to inspire my stories (I can’t seem to keep the protagonists from playing the piano)?
Is it to point me constantly toward a heart of gratitude? Once, I did not even have a piano and this one was provided generously, almost miraculously, through a friend.
Regina reminds me to press on, to do what needs to be done.
“the piano is not firewood yet
but the cold does get cold
so it soon might be that
I’ll take it apart, call up my friends
and we’ll warm up our hands by the fire”
The Universe calls clearly, “What have you got in your hand?”
I answer joyfully, “A piano! My piano is not firewood yet!”
What is this throwdown going to look like?
My life in pictures
I used to be really bad at taking pictures. Somehow, I could not get the hang of my 110 Instamatic. First, I had to buy the film. Then, feeling the strain of the expense of a roll of film, I severely rationed the use of 24 exposures. When the roll of film was spent, it was either left in the camera to season, or removed and tossed in the center drawer of the desk to await a newspaper coupon for discounted developing. 18 months later, coupon and cash exchanged for prints, it was disheartening to find my memories of the occasion fuzzy – and also my pictures. What a waste. My too frugal budget could not stand it. I gave up taking pictures.
For decades, my life was built on getting it right the first time. Experimentation that resulted in waste was not allowed. While excellence is a worthy goal; perfectionism or poverty are cruel and joyless motivators. Failure to get it right the first time results in giving up because you cannot afford to give yourself a second chance.
I continue to live on a frugal budget. These days, I have a smart little economical camera that allows me to take pictures with wild abandon; keeping or discarding at will at no extra expense. The freedom to practice away increases the quality of my photos. Even the batteries are rechargeable. News publications that used to be chary with color print and picture space now require a picture – an eye-catching visual – to publish. A camera is essential to my writing career.
If you are going to write about life; another essential is experience. Some experiences come via attending events. Events come with a cost; ten dollars, twenty, maybe even forty for a concert or show. Attending events is like taking pictures – you win a few and you lose a few. Many times you just click the discard button. But you keep going because once in awhile there is a stellar surprise. It’s a lot like life.
What I really want is a digital budget – maybe even a digital life. I want to be a shutter bug, clicking away at memories, pictures, events – not missing out on a single thing. But, I want to be able to delete the fuzzy, smudged, unfocused and undesirable. I want to quit demanding my money back for the events that failed to meet my expectations; but I also want the freedom to keep practicing until I get it right.
Affirmations
At first I thought they were silly – not to mention sloppy: little sticky notes everywhere; three by five cards taped over the sink and on the refrigerator. I once made a reminder which said, “Smile,” and taped it to my bathroom mirror. The next day when I exited the shower, I looked up expectantly, waiting for encouragement, only to be disappointed. The strip of ordinary white paper was rippled from the steam and running red marker letters were fast blurring into watercolor hieroglyphics. My tentative smile felt a bit as though my spirit had been caught in the rain in non-waterproof makeup and a crinoline dress.
Never-the-less, these little reminders must be effective. Graduate language students continue to step in and out of elevators and bump into normal folks while reading little cards always in abundant supply from a vest pocket. Music teachers and Math teachers still recommend flash cards. Life coaches persist in prodding clients to meditate daily, murmur canned prayers, and, above all – Affirm yourself!
Since I am a music teacher and have experienced first hand the positive results of the flash cars mentioned above; I have come to see the logic and benefit in daily review and affirmation. Today I invite you into my inner sanctum of meditation and thought to share my current affirmations – private to me; yet publicly available to all in the widely published book known as The Bible. The thing that is most affirming to me is that I did not go in search of these particular verses and themes. I came across them during natural times of meditation and daily need.
Do not neglect your gift; which was given you through a prophetic message when the body of elders laid their hands on you. I Timothy 4:14
Be diligent in these matters; give yourself wholly to them, so that everyone may see your progress. I Timothy 4:15
But one thing I do: forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. Philippians 3:13b
The peace of God, which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds…whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things…and the God of peace will be with you. Philippians 4:7,8,9.
God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:19
It is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose. Philippians 2:13
[Today] God fulfills his purpose for me. My heart is steadfast. I will sing and make music. Psalm 57
The Love of Riches
Some people will do anything for money.
Others will do nothing for money.
A third group will do anything to get something for free.
The first embody the scripture wherein Jesus said, “The Love of money is the root of all evil.”
The second, in their extreme response (or excuse) to avoid evil, would not think of committing any motion resulting in the evil of money. These two seem to be extreme poles of response to the making of money. The need and greed that comes from not having any money may result in a third, more insidious and extreme response:
Some people will do anything for free; free money, free belongings, free food, free ownership.
“Give me neither poverty nor riches…Otherwise, I may have too much and disown you…or I may become poor and steal and so dishonor [you].” Proverbs 30:8.
“People who want to be rich fall into temptation and a trap and into many harmful desires that plunge men into ruin and destruction (I Tim 5: 9)”
So, too, all that wait dependently for others to give everything to them for free.