If there’s one thing that’s true about New Yorkers, it’s that we’re resourceful.
It’s not easy living in this city – and it’s sure as hell not a cake walk trying to make ends meet. The ever-escalating cost of rent, food and public transportation is killer. And those are just the necessities. Factor in entertainment – because, who are we kidding, even when we’re dirt broke we’re gonna have fun – we’re lucky if we have two nickels left to rub together.
Sure, a job would help, but have you tried to find one around here lately? Unless you’re a conniving bitch or willing to sleep with the boss, you ain’t gettin’ hired. Go ahead and argue otherwise. I’ll send you a list of all my unemployed friends who chose to preserve their morals instead of lining their pockets.
Still, they complain. And I have no sympathy for them (sometimes you gotta get on your knees – to beg, of course), because if they could put whatever pride they have left aside they would find that there’s work just around the corner. All you gotta do is pick one.
I’m not sure how those snooty shitheads downtown live (and if you’re down there and broke, shame on you; do you know much money you could save by moving uptown?), but in my neck of the woods folks have some serious work ethic. You’ll find people all throughout Harlem peddling whatever they can to pay the bills. Peeled oranges, bottles of water, candy, chips. The product moves, too. How many times have you purchased a bag of M&M’s from a kid on the subway? I know I have. And that tells me something: It’s working. So why aren’t you?
Unemployed people who complain about not being able to find a job get on my last fucking nerve. There’s always work. The real problem is that most of us fancy ourselves too good to accept certain positions. Which I find quite comical. We’re college educated, which obviously elevates us above certain kinds of jobs (like working in fast food, for instance) yet we’re not above asking our parents for money or setting up several dates a day just to get a free meal. If you ask me, that’s lazy and rather goddamn rude. And if I were a parent of that kind of kid, I’d drive to their apartment just to smack them in the face with a stack of hundred dollar bills.
Whenever I’ve come upon hard times I’ve done whatever I needed to do to earn cash. I’ve worked retail, done yard work for strangers, audited hotel transactions in the middle of the night, and a couple of times I engaged in questionable activities with questionable characters. The latter incidents aren’t my proudest moments, but I did what I had to do. And tomorrow, if the world decided that it’s had enough of my editorial bullshit, I’d count my losses and stock up on Deer Park and Pringles and pound the pavement.
Heck, I’ll even throw a discount your way. Ten percent off. Out of pure, unadulterated pity.