That's what the millionaire asked me as we lounged in his hot tub and drank chilled champagne. I kid you not.
I can tell you what this poor person was doing a week ago. I was pawning my iPad 4 for half of what it was worth so my daughter and I could afford a cheap motel room for the night. We could have slept in our van but it was jam-packed with what was left of our belongings. It was also a very chilly December night in central Indiana. Sleeping upright in the front seats huddled under our blankets would have been a challenge, to say the least.
I have never been homeless before, and I am technically not homeless now; living with my cousin and his family in Texas. But I was homeless for 3 days too long.
As I scrounged for money last Wednesday my thoughts turned to the attorney for the property management company our rental home was leased through. After our eviction hearing was held the week prior, the property manager told me we would need to cover the attorney's fee of $250.00. Prior to going before the judge this same attorney represented another landlord for at least two other eviction hearings. The proceedings didn't last long; ours was five minutes tops. So that attorney made approximately $1000 for twenty minutes work.
$1000 for twenty minutes work. November 26th, 2014 - the day before Thanksgiving. I wondered if said attorney thought twice about his excessive fee in relation to people like us being homeless. Me, scrounging for motel and storage space money.
My cousin's wife showed us two "abandoned" mansions in Houston. These mansions, one of which she said was 35,000 square feet, were built by two different Houston football players. She related that the players anticipated other team members building in the same area. When the other players built homes elsewhere these football players, according to my cousin-in-law, up and abandoned the newly built monstrosities.
As we drove by I thought 'what I wouldn't give for even a 5 x 8 space in one of those buildings.'
That's right. 5' x 8' of my own space. Four walls. A ceiling over my head and a floor under my feet.
I went to the local post office to have my mail forwarded from my former home. The postal worker was busy and told me how long it would take to fill out the form there (translated: she didn't want bothered). She assured me I could submit the form online. I was glad for that opportunity and immediately went to the usps website. In order to verify my identity I had to submit either credit card or debit card information and pay a fee of a little over one dollar (I can't remember the exact fee). I sat in front of my little laptop, shaking my head. She failed to inform me I needed a credit/debit card and would have to pay a fee.
I went back to that post office the next day. The same woman was behind the counter. It took me approximately five minutes to fill out the form there. I told her about the fee and credit/debit card. She was astounded that anyone would not have one or the other. I did not explain my dire financial situation and how I was homeless for three whole days (sigh) but I did point out that I had no credit cards and no debit card due to moving and not having a local bank yet. I didn't address the online fee versus free at her post office, because her attitude was one of haughty superiority. Who would balk at paying such a fee, said a lady who may never have had a needy day in her life? Someone who would be living out of her van were it not for her merciful cousin and his family, that's who.
This night this not-homeless-but-displaced individual is writing the first installment of this blog. I hope and pray that my words shed light on the lives and worth of each and every poor person, homeless or no.
There but for grace go I . . .
mtk
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