“I always thought he was poor.” How shame made me waste money for years (and how I recovered)
Shame is powerful. Of all the emotions I think it’s the least rational. Like so many emotions it can only affect you if you allow it to…but it is so easy to feel embarrassed.
Often this is just a fleeting feeling By the next day you’ve forgotten all about it. At other times it becomes pernicious and clings to you like a burr. Pricking you for years afterwards when you least expect it.
Shame and money are unwholesome bedfellows. Being poor isn’t seen as a factual description. Instead it’s, wrongly and dangerously, loaded with connotations of laziness, lack of intelligence, even moral failing. Society has made not having ‘enough’ money something to feel ashamed about. But in a pernicious twist society also makes us think that you can never have ‘enough’ money.
This post is about a moment of shame that bedeviled me in wasting money for years. But it’s also a post about hope and how I got past that. But it’s not just about me, it’s about how shame about money and spending can affect us all and what we can do about it.
Shopping for books
I must have been about 11 years old. It was an afternoon during the summer holidays. I know that much as I can remember squinting as the late afternoon sun came in through the charity shop window.
What I remember most is the emotion. I was happy. That charity shop was one of my favourite places in the world. Whenever I could I would go there to browse the treasures on its shelves. The reason that charity shop was special was because it specialised in books. Over half the space in the shop was given over to bookshelves. I think that’s more common now but back then it was unusual.
At that time I was looking for books about boarding schools. Mallory Towers, St Clare’s and, above all the Chalet School. I loved them.
And yes. I was a pre-pubescent boy who was into early twentieth century books about girls boarding schools.
While I would get a bit of pocket money I really didn’t have much money growing up. That meant that if I wanted to buy a Chalet School book I could either save up for months to buy one new, or I could save for a week or two to buy one second hand.
No contest right?
Having saved for a month I went through the racks and there it was. The New Mistress at the Chalet School. I hadn’t read that one. Gold dust. I carefully opened the cover and I saw that it cost 30p. Perfect. I had two weeks worth of pocket money, 40p, with me.
From success to shame
I remember coming out of that charity shop clutching my ‘new’ Chalet School book in its small paper bag. That bag had pink and while stripes. Why do we remember the details?
I was so excited. Even though it was a lovely warm summer’s afternoon I couldn’t wait to go home and lie on my bed and find out what adventures Joey and Bride and the rest had got up to. I knew I would finish it in a couple of hours and I was already looking forward to turning back to the beginning and starting again.
As I came out of the shop I turned as I heard a giggle. Two girls that I knew from primary school walked toward me. Amanda and Rebecca. I went to an all boys secondary school but my primary school was mixed. We didn’t know each other very well and after we left primary school a year or two earlier we hadn’t spoken since.
They were doing that thing that young girls do of walking along arm in arm but sort of looking down with occasional glances up through their hair. In that way that gawky pre-teen boys have I gave them a sort of sickly smile which led them to giggle even more.
As they walked past they gave me, and my stripy pink and white charity shop paper bag, a glance but didn’t stop. That was fine by me. I can tell you for free that I certainly wasn’t going to start a conversation. As Amanda walked away a snippet of her speech floated back to me.
“Oh my God. I’m not surprised he shops there, I always thought he was poor.”
There was another gale of giggles and then they were gone.
This is the book. I still have it.
“I always thought he was poor”
I stood outside that shop and watched them as they disappeared into Woolworths.
The shame filled my stomach with acid.
“I always thought he was poor.”
Poor. It’s a loaded word. It doesn’t have the dignity that working class does. It hints at personal failure.
As a child I felt it strongly. It made me feel ashamed of my parents. If I was poor it’s because they were poor. That’s the meta-shame that that I still feel today. That I was ashamed of my loving parents who would do anything for me and encouraged us to be the best that we could be. How dare I? What kind of entitled brat was I? I never did or said anything to my parents but I’m horrified that I was the sort of person that would even think that.
Eventually I started to trudge home. The words kept going round my head.
“I always thought he was poor”
When I walked through the door I went straight up to my room. I realised that I was still holding my book. Without taking it out of its pink and white striped paper bag I put it at the bottom of my wardrobe. Then I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling and didn’t allow myself to cry.
“I always thought he was poor”
How shame coloured the next decade
Of course this had nothing to do with reality. We weren’t actually poor growing up. We weren’t rich but we had a home, food, clothes, a second hand car, the occasional meal out. A week away most years – even going abroad once or twice.
No, we weren’t poor. I was just reacting to one throwaway statement from a girl who barely knew me as she showed off.
But reality had little to do with shame I felt. And that shame didn’t leave me.
Amanda’s throwaway comment made me evaluate everything that I had. Clothes, books, toys.
What’s that quote? “When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things”
In a small way that’s what happened to me. Aged 12 I lost some of my innocence. I stopped reading those books that I loved. I packed them into a box and put them under my bed.
I also became ultra-sensitive to the ‘things’ in and around my life. Brand name clothes started to become important. I would suggest to my dad that he should get a new car. When friends came round I would see my house as I imagined they would see it. Clean tidy, but a bit tatty with a lot of old stuff – so I stopped asking them. I don’t think that I had a friend round to mine again until I was 17.
Oh and I would never, ever be seen in a charity shop. In fact I would stride past without even giving it a glance.
That comment had made me see myself as poor. And worse it wrongly made me feel like being poor was something to be ashamed of.
How I overcame my shame
And thus, materialistic and shallow, I ended my school career.
The turning point was my gap year. I had money that year. More money than I had ever had before. My spending poison of choice was music. I’d had a mental list of albums I had wanted for years. From Guns n’ Roses, to The Doors, to Miles Davis. Every Saturday I would go to Our Price to choose one CD. It was my tangible reward for working.
One week I went in and I was after a Smiths album and they didn’t have it. I went to the desk.
“’scuse me. Do you have The Queen is Dead?”
“Great album that”
“Yeah I know, but I can’t find it on the shelves”
“Oh, yeah, right. No we haven’t stocked that for a while. I could order it if you want.”
“…”
“If you want it today you could try Ray’s. He’s bound to have it.”
I walked out. Ray’s was the local second-hand music store. I passed it most times I went into town. To be honest, by the time I got to the end of secondary school a lot of my friends would talk about it a lot. But I had never gone in. Because, yanno, second hand.
But I wanted that CD.
I made my decision and walked to Rays. I paused outside then, cheeks glowing, went in.
It was Saturday so it was busy, mostly men in their 20s and 30s browsing racks of vinyl. The guy behind the counter had dyed grey-blue hair and a pierced nose. He looked up as the bell above the door tinkled.
He nodded. “Alright”
I relaxed.
And that was it. I was with my people and I’ve always gone to second-hand and charity shops since.
Still love the Smiths
Shame about money is dangerous but you CAN get past it.
I would love to say that I had an epiphany on not wasting money that changed my mind but real life doesn’t always work like that. It took time and distance and growing up a bit to get there. But I look around and see people who feel ashamed about being poorer than they think they ought to be.
The have that fear that everyone is looking at them and saying “I always thought he was poor”
It can manifest is so many ways. Buying iPads or designer clothes for their kids. Building that extension. Going on that Caribbean cruise. Getting a new car.
It’s all about masking a feeling of inadequacy. Feeling like you have to keep up with the Jones’s.
The worst thing is that to get over this feeling of shame they borrow money they can’t afford. The short term hit from buying the thing dissipates fast. After that you are just left with the bills, and the stress and the shame.
If that’s you I want you to now that it doesn’t have to be like that. It doesn’t matter what people think All that matters is how you feel about yourself and that is in your gift. I was SO lucky that I got through this at an early age. Given my propensity to feel that shame things would have been a lot worse had this happened when I could borrow.
Concluding reflections
So there we have it. As I write this post, and actually this blog as a whole, I am struck how we are the product of our choices. Often those choices were made when we were young but they echo through the years to whisper in our ears today.
Looking back on those I realise that I learnt a lot about myself that I still carry now. Here are my top five
- Being poor is nothing to be ashamed of. It isn’t a good thing or a bad thing. It’s a statement of fact. If you see it as anything else then you’re putting that on yourself
- Embarrassment is choice. You can only be embarrassed if you choose to be. That girl didn’t embarrass me, I allowed myself to feel embarrassed.
- Embarrassment begets embarrassment. If you’re embarrassed then other people will be as well. That cool guy behind the desk nodding at me just drained all of my embarrassment away
- Money gives you power. That year I was earning money as an 18 year old I was living at home paying a nominal amount to my parents so I had a bucket-load of spare cash. I KNEW that I wasn’t poor, that I could buy almost anything I wanted. If someone told me I was poor I would literally have laughed at them. It was, if you will, FU money in a very small way.
- I owe my parents SO much. As I said the thing that still gives me a stab of shame is that I was ashamed of my parents. They deserve better. I hope that I’ve made it up to them in the years since.
Thoughts
Has shame made you make poor choices?
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What a powerful story Caveman!
Bullying in general can open up a whole new can of worms, but this story in particular is a really good insight in how it can affect your finances. It really is a symbolism for how the whole of the FIRE movement is going against the ‘norm’. You have to grow that resiliance against bullying because you’re behaving differently. That’s a subject a lot of FIRE visionaries fail to talk about, I’ve definitely felt the weird comments and almost bullying come from some people when I chose to trade in my Audi for a 20 year old banger, but I guess the only thing that keeps you strong through that is the feeling that you know about something that they don’t, a secret if you will.
I’m not looking forward to when I have children and them feeling like you did, especially if they’re unable to grasp the FIRE movement and what truly matters.
P.S Your content is so good, I’m still reading it, even though everything is in bold (even this comment) Haha!
It’s interesting that you see it as bullying I’d never really thought about it through that lens. Looking back I think it was two girls being silly. They were off the estates as well so I wonder if there was an element of wanting to distance themselves from their own reality.
I’ve had a some comments as an adult as well, but I find it much easier to brush off. My children seem to be pretty good about money. They are largely unmaterialistic at the moment. Having said which they aren’t teenagers yet so maybe that’s all to come.
That bold thing is weird! I’m gonna just go ahead and blame you!
Beautiful story. I still get snickers and jokes thrown at me in my 30’s for my clothes I continue to wear and my old car I drive. As I age I realize the insecurities regarding people comments have one away, and have been replaced with pride knowing I am living the way I choose and not being influenced by others to fit in their standards.
Thank you for this 🙂
Being mocked for cars seem to be something of a theme in this. It makes no sense to me. If a car goes and is safe what more matters?
I think that point about pride is really important. It’s not just about not feeling shame, it’s turning it into that positive of realising why you’re choosing a particular lifestyle.
So in junior high, my parents get divorced and I get poor, fast. The latest jeans come out, Z Cavaricci. I can not afford them and start to literally fall away from my old crowd. Fast forward a year or two and I found punk rock and it did not matter that I did not have money, Saved my life. Found myself and never looked back.
Clothes was a really big one for me. In that teenage period I was describing I remember my sister saving up to buy me a Guns n’Roses t-shirt. But it was the ‘wrong’ one so I never wore it…I can’t believe how ungrateful I was.
It helped when I moved into grunge and indie when being scruffy was part of the deal!
Your post reminds me of childhood experiences and feelings that I forgot – or rather repressed. Of course for a (young) child thoughtless remarks of others have more effect than for grown-ups. You’re depending on you parent(s) – in my case my mother – and when they are ‘poor’ this indeed as you mention brings a sort of meta-shame. I’ll skip a large part now (maybe something for one or two blog posts in the future … nowadays I actually almost ‘dwell’ on not having any money. Not because I don’t have it, but because I now – finally! – wisely decide to save it. It also helps me in not having to attend events that I rather not go to. “Sorry, waiting for my paycheck so can’t join you for drinks …”
I saw someone on twitter say once: “There’s a big difference in choosing to live on $30,000 a year and having to live on $30,000 a year” Knowing that not spending now is a choice I’m making as an adult makes it much easier. I think that’s the issue with the childhood feelings about money. You have so little control over it.
Look forward to reading your posts if you decide to write about your experiences.
I’m not and never have been brand orientated for clothes etc but I freely admit to being blind when it comes to my house and my car.
Baby steps I’m trading my stupid lease car at year end but will probably end up buying a second hand premium model outright. I’m setting myself a limit of 20k. Im hoping I can bring myself to ignore the badge and get something perfectly decent like a Honda saloon or hyundai which would save me a good few thousand . There is literally no rationalising it but at the very least it will be a massive improvement to spunking 600 a month on a rented bmw
It’s interesting what’s important to different people. We’ve had our current car for over 10 years (bought it outright second hand). It’s got to the point where it’s starting to get unreliable so we’ll look into getting another one later this year. But we’ll probably spend £10k or so second hand.
But, our home is our blind spot as well. While we’ve been relatively prudent we have more house and garden than we need in a nicer area than we need to be in. I know the ‘right’ thing to do would be to trade down and hit financial independence sooner. But the thought of doing that would break all of our hearts. Instead we’ll just work longer. As you say, not rational.
Glad you came around, and pretty early in life too. Is amazing the little things that stick with us, isn’t it? The barbs that burrow down inside and nest there. So I’m glad you we’re able to root yours out so well. If not always been great about it, though thankfully my hangups weren’t about money.
We all have hang ups from our childhood or elsewhere. I certainly have multiple…this is just the one I shared this time! Despite the pain it caused me I wouldn’t change that story or lose my other painful memories. How could I? The bad, as well as the good, has made me who I am.
Wow. This is a powerful story. This speaks volumes to me. Most of my childhood I felt shame and embarrassment. We didn’t have much money, but for me, it was less about being poor, and more about not feeling accepted for who I was. This included at home and in school. This article inspired me to get deeper into this can of worms with my writing. There is no doubt I’m still working through issues to this day. Thanks for sharing.
I’m glad that this spoke to you. It’s interesting that you see this from an acceptance perspective. I wonder if ultimately that’s what I felt I was lacking as well. I touched on it a bit in the post but wasting money can often be a proxy to mask other issues (as can drinking too much, over eating, taking drugs).
Look forward to reading about where you get to as you explore this.
Excellent post, Caveman – thanks for sharing.
Even though I grew up in a small town dominated by working class/blue collar working families, some were more well off than others and I was very aware as a child that my family were not one of the more well off (not to begin with anyway). I was always a little envious of the kids who had the latest designer trainers whereas I had to make do with cheaper versions. My best friend at school was from one of the well off families and I loved visiting her beautiful housw. I never invited her to mine, perhaps I was ashamed.
Anyway, good to hear that you got over this and just putting some old Smiths tunes on which I haven’t heard in a while! 🙂
I grew up on the edge of a large council estate and at primary school we all were similarly working class so knew no different. The real change came at secondary school where we all got to meet the kids from the richer parts of town. That’s when I realised what I didn’t have. I do wonder if that was also part of what was behind what those that girl said to me. She was realising that all of us from primary school were relatively less affluent so was trying to somehow distance herself.
Oh and on The Smiths. I knew I found my tribe at university when on the first night someone introduced himself to a few of us as “William…” and someone just said “…it was really nothing”. My kind of people!
Wonderful story Caveman. Cruel, throwaway comments like that can really stick in the mind, especially when you’re young and impressionable. Glad you re-discovered the beauty of secondhand. I also remember going to Our Price every Saturday as a teen, but nothing was as satisfying as finding gems in the secondhand record shops in Berwick Street, Soho (my favourite of which seems to have recently disappeared sadly).
Thanks Mindy. I’ve now re-embraced secondhand and charity shops with a vengence. I can’t remember the last time I bought a book or a DVD new. I get a particular satisfaction at buying something from a charity shop watching/reading it and then donating it back to a charity shop. The circularity of it pleases me!
great story. i grew up in similar circumstances. it was a working class town and i was somewhere in the middle of the class structure. my folks probably could have afforded to buy all that latest designer stuff but refused, except for high quality running shoes for sports. it’s funny that the “aristocrats” of our crappy little town would have seemed poor and unsophisticated if they even ventured to the nearest small city. it’s all relative.
i fell into the spending trap when i escaped to adulthood and got my first real job. went to napa valley and beverly hills on credit with a girl to see how the other half lived. thankfully i came to my senses and got my money and values straight and i always had the confidence deep down that i would. we still do nice things but it’s very balanced with more responsible choices. we know that if whatever we spend on something fancy means maybe working longer or not being able to buy/do something else. you gotta prioritize, eh?
Oh it’s all totally relative. I thought I knew rich kids when I was growing up, but it was only when I went to university and then into the City that I realised what rich really was. The last scales fell from my eyes when I went to a wedding in my late 20s in a beat up second hand car and parked up between two, new, Lamborghinis. They would each have cost over quarter of a million.
What you say about values is interesting. It looks like your parents brought you up right and, even though you had a wobble, ultimately your values are what won through.
Balance is key. I know that I won’t be able to walk this road for years if I feel like I’m depriving myself all the time. I have to enjoy the journey because none of us know what’s going to happen tomorrow.
I loved this Caveman. Such a powerful piece which brings back my own memories.
I remember my parents saving up all year to spend £50 on an M&S coat for me. £50 is a lot of money to spend on a coat even now, let alone 20 years ago. That’s not to say I haven’t spent more than £50 on a coat, just that it is still a lot of money for me. I seldom buy clothes.
Anyways, I wore it to school, very proud.
Then a classmate made fun of me saying I shop where old people go.
I didn’t quite understand that comment at the time. Even back then, my parents only ever went to M&S as a rare treat so I got the impression it was good quality stuff.
The comment made enough impact that I went to the toilet and ripped the M&S label off the coat.
That memory has only just come back to me after reading your post.
I feel ashamed to have been influenced so easily back then, but we all gotta grow up some time.
Thanks for this. Remembering this experience will make be a better father because I can better understand what my children go through.
Wow, that’s a really powerful memory CC. It makes me think of times when I was made to be embarrassed about having unbranded clothing. We were similar about M&S growing up, that’s where you went for posh clothes (C&A or BHS for the rest!)
You’re right, there is a real positive here in using it to be more empathetic towards our kids. It’s certainly not become any easier for them…and cameras and social media mean that those social missteps can haunt you for a long longer.