Socioeconomic Status

Tucson, Arizona. My daughter visited Tucson from Stanford last week, and we got into a conversation about socioeconomic status. Her fellow undergraduates, while not all wealthy, have high mean family incomes, and her boyfriend comes from one with a net worth easily exceeding $50 M. Through her relationship with him, she experienced a sensation I know well, "I feel like I’ve lived my life under a rock."

Keep in mind, the statement came from a teenager who performed before audiences in Rome, Venice, and Paris. In junior high and high school she played all sorts of roles on stage, earned straight A’s at University High, spoke fluent Spanish for a month on a coffee plantation in El Salvador, enjoyed numerous romantic relationships (enjoyed!), has a dozen years of piano lessons and recitals, scored five 5’s and two 4’s on high school advanced placement exams, traveled every summer, and is now a sophomore at Stanford University. She asserted, "I feel like I’ve lived my life under a rock."

I know exactly what she is talking about. Her boyfriend enjoys a vast set of choices and options and a perspective of freedom and opportunity because literally the world is available. Able to do and have just about anything, one can undertake many adventures. Let’s hike the Tibetan plateau. Let’s take trips to China, walk the wall, spend a month in Belize and another in Manhattan, take tennis lessons at a resort, have some horses on a ranch, guests from Sweden, and a nice boat.

Clothing and food? Daughter’s dad buys shirts on sale at Men’s Wearhouse. Boyfriend’s dad calls his personal tailor to have shirts made to order. A true appreciation of what it is like at a different SES level is difficult, looking up or down. The disintegration of someone accustomed to wealth facing poverty is easy to understand. Less expected but common are the stories of lottery winners destroyed by the winnings. In Something Else I wrote of the dinner at Sally’s house. Almost certainly the lowest SES person at the dinner, I thought about SAIAT students who arrived not knowing if they would have dinner that night. I spoke with Sally’s daughter, and the confidence and sense of possibility really struck me.

In 2004 when SAIAT was plummeting at better than $30,000 a month and I was experiencing sheer terror, I wrote an email to a high SES individual now holding elected office. She wrote back, "Don’t worry. Things will turn out. They usually do."

I wanted to crawl through the screen and strangle the woman, "Yeah! For you!!!"

It’s hard not to feel jealousy and resentment for those who have access to lots of money they had nothing to do with earning. I’ll spare the reader the sociology lesson, but it’s more than the money. It’s the whole cultural capital and habitus that leads to more wealth. The system reinforces itself. Drop below a certain point, and one gives up. What lit me up and what I loved about SAIAT is that we truly did help people lift themselves, and I am talking about the entire person, not just a paycheck.

Born above a certain point, and failure is impossible. Look at Eggplant.

Someone bought my daughter a $25 gift card to Walmart, so I took her to the one at Speedway and Kolb. The first signal was the old car next to where I parked, windows down, seats tattered, the paint on the hood pealing, junk in the back seat no one would steal. When we entered the place, we looked at each other, thinking we’d gone through a portal of some kind into another universe. I don’t wish to occur as snobby or sound arrogant, but holy #@$!

Has the reader ever gone to Walmart? Everyone was, well, uh, let’s say "unkempt." And the employees?! I think there were over a hundred of them. Employees were everywhere, looking the same as the customers, but with Walmart badges at the end of lanyards, pushing carts of merchandise and restocking and I don’t know what. They were obviously doing something. I turned to my daughter, "I think we’ve crawled under the rock."