It All Evens Out
Being broke in Brooklyn was Romantic for a while, like a rite of passage that every 20-something needs to experience before they become rich and successful. My first night in Harlem, my roommate EH and I ate Chinese take-out on the floor and slept on stacks of towels. I love that memory because it sounds like such an adventure. Like camping! But now, I'm ready for that part of the adventure to be over. Now, the charm of scraping together rent and ordering the cheapest thing on the menu is so not charming anymore. I want money in my savings account, and I want a steak. STAT.
I'm 26 years old; I should be able to pay for the name brand Cherrios, goddamnit, but I don't think you truly understand how thrifty I am. I am far from my days as a college student, yet I still get care packages mailed from my mom, and I still pay for my groceries using multiple forms of payment so I don't overdraft. Sometimes, I still overdraft. I do everything I can think of to cut corners and save what I can. I wash and re-use Ziploc bags. I paint my own nails, trim my own bangs, use mascara long after the suggested 2 month mark. I wash, then dry my clothes at two separate places because it's cheaper that way. I drink home brewed Chuck 'O Nuts coffee instead of Starbucks every morning. I buy my shoes at store outlets, my wine at Trader Joes, and I steal napkins from every restaurant I go to. I haven't bought napkins in two and a half years. And still, at the beginning of each month, when my rent is due and I have to buy a new Metrocard and that 7.99 Netflix fee shows up on my bank statement, I take a deep breath and hope that the numbers all come through. It's not charming, and it's not Romantic. It's terrifying.
And yet, even in this pitiful state of eternal broke-dom, every once in a while New York City will throw me a bone. A friend who knows a player for the New York Giants gets us free tickets to a game. I get a babysitting job on on a Saturday afternoon and make $120 in cash before going out with my friends at 10PM. My 81-year-old boss gives me Opera tickets on a Tuesday afternoon because, as he says, "everyone needs to go to the Opera, at least once." I get invited to a 23-hour rendezvous in Atlantic City with free food and a free hotel room because a friend's dad has hotel reward points. Sometimes things work out, and I've learned that if you're moderately nice to people and moderately fun to be around, people will invite you to really cool things. And at the end of the day, it's ok that my nails are chipped and my wine is cheap and my Cherrios are actually "Toasted Oats." It all evens out.
I'm 26 years old; I should be able to pay for the name brand Cherrios, goddamnit, but I don't think you truly understand how thrifty I am. I am far from my days as a college student, yet I still get care packages mailed from my mom, and I still pay for my groceries using multiple forms of payment so I don't overdraft. Sometimes, I still overdraft. I do everything I can think of to cut corners and save what I can. I wash and re-use Ziploc bags. I paint my own nails, trim my own bangs, use mascara long after the suggested 2 month mark. I wash, then dry my clothes at two separate places because it's cheaper that way. I drink home brewed Chuck 'O Nuts coffee instead of Starbucks every morning. I buy my shoes at store outlets, my wine at Trader Joes, and I steal napkins from every restaurant I go to. I haven't bought napkins in two and a half years. And still, at the beginning of each month, when my rent is due and I have to buy a new Metrocard and that 7.99 Netflix fee shows up on my bank statement, I take a deep breath and hope that the numbers all come through. It's not charming, and it's not Romantic. It's terrifying.
And yet, even in this pitiful state of eternal broke-dom, every once in a while New York City will throw me a bone. A friend who knows a player for the New York Giants gets us free tickets to a game. I get a babysitting job on on a Saturday afternoon and make $120 in cash before going out with my friends at 10PM. My 81-year-old boss gives me Opera tickets on a Tuesday afternoon because, as he says, "everyone needs to go to the Opera, at least once." I get invited to a 23-hour rendezvous in Atlantic City with free food and a free hotel room because a friend's dad has hotel reward points. Sometimes things work out, and I've learned that if you're moderately nice to people and moderately fun to be around, people will invite you to really cool things. And at the end of the day, it's ok that my nails are chipped and my wine is cheap and my Cherrios are actually "Toasted Oats." It all evens out.
Please become famous and write books so I can read them and tell everyone that I loved you in college and obsessed over your life in NYC. You are remarkable. So Damn Remarkable!
ReplyDeleteI second this notion.
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