Filthy Rich
Sometimes when I make a delivery
To someone who lives in the kind of home
That I can't even afford to look at
And will surely never live in
I feel a little sick
Some say it's the fault of the working class
That we aren't able to live in homes like that
They believe they are actually superior
They say things like
You don't expect me to live like people
Who make $25,000 a year
Do you?
As I bring their snacks to the door
Sometimes up a long flight of steps
My knees and ankles ache
The party music pounding
I wait for the rich little shit
Who inevitably ordered the grub
He smiles smugly as he looks down his nose
Says "How ARE you" with a smirk
Either knowing full well that I know he doesn't give a fuck
Or thinking I'm too stupid to realize
He thinks of me as dog shit on his shoe
I smile as if I didn't hate his kind
With the virulent passion of explosive diarrhea
The best that I can hope
Is that he's not a total waste of oxygen
That there's a soul somewhere behind the veneer
He takes his snacks inside and slams the door
No tip forthcoming for the contract worker
Who can't afford health insurance
Whose Medicaid got pulled when she found this job
Because she now makes the queenly sum
Of $2000 a month
I limp back to the car on legs well abused
By working many years of physical jobs
Legs which don't work quite right because of repeated back injuries
And arthritis forming in the joints
The snob thinks that those like me deserve our fate
After all, we've chosen to be down and out
I feel sick to my stomach
Not just because I'll never be able
To afford a place like his
But also because, even with as much as I'm struggling
There are those worse off than me
Still, I'd like to vomit on his lawn
As much as I may envy
The things that those like him are able to have
The thought of not having to worry about money
I don't envy their kind at all
I don't want to be like them
I'd never want to be the sort
Who thinks that I'm so much better
Then the person who's made my life a little easier
By bringing me the things I can afford to buy
And have delivered on a whim
Yet having so little class
That I couldn't even be bothered
To give them a few dollars
To buy a little lunch
I often feel quite nauseous
When forced to be in the presence
Of the classless, filthy rich
~The Cheese Hath Grated It Poetically~
Note:
I deliver groceries for a living, not only to rich neighborhoods. Some of the neighborhoods I deliver to make me hope that I get out of there without being mugged. I don't look down on the people living there. I might have ended up in one of these places easily enough. As it happens, I ended up in a run-down mobile home without a working furnace or shower in a reasonably quiet suburban area with a seedy underbelly. None of my direct neighbors are cooking meth, but several meth labs have been broken up in places close by.
I am a 1099-R contractor. This means that I don't get any benefits from my employer. I also do my own accounting. If you're self-employed and don't already have an accountant or use Quickbooks Self-Employed, you may thank me for the link I'm about to give you which will save you some money when you sign up for Quickbooks Self-Employed.
http://fbuy.me/fFN2W
My first three months cost me $10 each. I now pay $18 per month, and it's well worth it. Life would be an even bigger mess without it.
I honestly did not write this poem as an advertisement for Quickbooks Self-Employed. It is a very real reflection of my life.
My legs hurt all the time. There are days when I get severe calf cramps that literally leave me writhing and screaming. I am not sure how long I'll be able to continue doing this kind of work.
I literally can't afford health insurance.
I am still catching up on back bills from the four months when I was underemployed. I don't know if I'll ever catch up.
I am diabetic, and there are days when I can't afford to eat. Not that anyone should ever have to go a day without eating, but being diabetic makes it extra special. I make "too much money" to qualify for food benefits. A great deal of what I make goes into car maintenance and fuel. Yes, I can "write it off," but that isn't as big of a deal as it sounds like.
My job does have certain advantages which are a big deal. I make my own schedule every week. I don't have to work the typical five days a week nine to five schedule, which is a schedule that causes me to fall into a literal depression. I don't do well with five-day weeks, I don't do well with early shifts, and I don't do well with jobs where there's a boss standing over me for the whole shift.
I can't do health care work anymore because of my diabetes. I got fired from the homecare job I was doing earlier this year because I fell asleep during the shift. I literally thought I'd had a TIA because that was how deep the sleep I'd fallen into was. I still don't remember it happening, I only remember the outcome. It devastated my life, and I still haven't recovered financially or emotionally. I often feel like a failure because of this incident.
I live with not only debilitating physical illness but catastrophic mental illness: type 2 bipolar disorder, plus obsessive-compulsive disorder with hoarding features (believe me, that one's a struggle to fight with. The hoarding involves items, not animals.) and borderline personality disorder. To my credit, I have learned to cope fairly well with this trifecta of shit. There are certain things that my fucked-up circadian rhythms still won't let me do, like working the early shifts that people get pats on the back for. When people find out that I work late shifts preferentially, they always look at me like I'm going to give them some sort of disease if I touch them. Yet our 24-7 society would collapse if no-one were willing to work those Weirdo Shifts.
I'm not expecting a medal for any of my struggles. However, being treated with a modicum of common decency would be nice.
If you're one of those people who thinks that the company your delivery driver is working for pays them such a fine sum that you don't have to give them a tip, think twice. Fedex and UPS pay actual salaries with benefits and their drivers don't take tips.
The person who delivers items such as food and groceries is making a base wage of around $5 per hour. In the case of my company, I then make $1 for every delivery within a five-mile radius and $3 for every delivery outside the five-mile radius. As I mentioned previously, I make no benefits. The work is physically demanding, and we are often working short of help.
Even a modest ten percent tip really helps.
I try not to feel bitter when people don't tip, but I can't help it when they could obviously afford to but think they're too good to do so.
~The Cheese Hath Grated It~
