“I Was A Total Failure”
©2003 by Paschal Ryan
“That is the truth. It is hard to explain. It is the way the system is set up. You see, in America, you have the poor, the rich, and the ones caught in between, known as ‘the middle-class’.”
“First, let me say: all people who need help should get it. I am talking about the widow with children and the like. It seems that a lot of people are fit and able to work, but will milk the system and collect all of their needs from the taxpayer.”
“My greatest fear however, was to be poor. Being poor is the worst thing that can happen to any person. I once said that I was as poor as a church, but that only brought laughs. Now, however, if you are poor, you can get subsidized housing, health care, even a university scholarship and other welfare benefits if you are without advantage. As for me? I thought I was ‘middle class.’ How I regret it. Nobody wants to be middle class any more. Why?
Because I make too much money to be eligible to live as well as the poor, and I don’t make enough money to be able to live as well as the rich. I, am part of the middle class, caught in the middle. That’s right, instead of living down town like the rich and poor do, I am one of the blokes who is forced to buy a house out in the boonies because that is all I can afford. Now I am spending the rest of my life trying to pay the bills and educate my children and be able to pay my mortgage, because nobody will help me out.
Poverty in America is so attractive, that I decided to do something about it to bring about change. I went to my boss’s office last week. When I got to his front office door, which was open, Mr. Southward saw me from his desk.
“What is it, Ryan, I am busy,” he barked.
“It’s about my wages, sir. I wondered if you could give me a decrease,” I said, like a fraidy cat.
“You had a decrease less than a year ago, Ryan.”
“I realize that, sir. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, but I sure could use less money.”
“What size decrease did you have in mind, Ryan?”
“I was hoping for a fifty dollar a week cut in my salary, sir.”
“Fifty dollars? That’s a big cut, Ryan. What have you done to earn such a big cut?”
“Well, Mr. Southward, I have worked for you now going on fifteen years and I’ve always worked way above standard.”
“I realize that, Ryan, but fifty dollars? Wouldn’t you be happy with a twenty dollar cut? We have our budget problems too, you know.”
“Sir, I mean, Mr. Southward, I had my heart set on a fifty dollar cut, but a twenty dollar cut is better than a smack in the nose. How about a thirty dollar cut, sir? You see, Mr. Southward, if you gave me a fifty dollar cut in my weekly salary, the wife, kids, and I, would be eligible for an apartment in the ctiy’s new development, the one down on Mercer St, with the pool, sauna, tennis courts, and room for a pony. Also, my kids would qualify for a government scholarship, and we could get free medical treatment, sir.”
“You really have the gift of the gab, Ryan. You win. I will give you a fifty dollar cut in your weekly salary, only on one condition. If you slip behind in your work, you will get an automatic fifty dollar raise, no ifs, ands, or buts.”
“Thank you, Mr. Southward.”
“And, Ryan?”
“Yes, sir?”
“You must invite me over some night for tennis or a swim when you move into your new place.”
“Yes, Mr. Southward, I always believe the poor should share with the less fortunate.”