Money Down The Toilet...

The summer I graduated high school, I worked at a Piggly Wiggly in Albany Georgia. The South Slappey location, next to Keys, to be more precise. I was a cashier for the first few years. Now, you want to talk about a young girl learning some life lessons. You put a young girl, on the south side of any town, to work, and lessons are about to be learned.

That was my first introduction to the injustices of the governmental hand out system. Little old ladies and men, would come in with their social security checks and food stamps. Some of them, I wondered how they made it from one week til the next. Then you would have young, healthy people coming in, with twice the check and twice the amount of food stamps. Buggy's full of prime time meats and food, standing in my check out line, talking about where they were going out to eat when they left there. What shoes they were going to buy to go with this or that outfit. I was eighteen years old, and I knew then, the system was a mess.

It's a good damn thing someone like me isn't running the show. There would be an accountability like you would not believe. There would be concrete rules. And they would be followed. There would be no one receiving food stamps who could afford to cover their skin with body art. Or motors for boats, or shopping sprees, or $100 hair jobs. If you cannot afford to feed your family with money, you have no business spending money on anything that is not tangible to living. That is not necessary to live and breathe.

I don't think people are even humble anymore. I don't think it means anything anymore to go in, sit down, and fill out paperwork for assistance. I am not saying I will never be in that place, that I will never not need help. But I can say, without a doubt, I will be respectful of what is given to me, of who is helping me. And for those who want to pipe off, that it's mine or anyone elses duty to help people like that..you are crazy. I work my behind off trying to help myself and MY family. I was not put here on this earth to help you buy Grade A Prime Rib with the food stamps I helped supply, and then ply your bodies with needless tattoos.

Someone actually told my husband one day, that they weren't ashamed. That's what other people worked for..when he came home and repeated that to me I came UNGLUED. Because I don't work for you and your sorriness.  I don't make hamburger stretch five ways to Sunday so you can have steak.

And while I love my children, two was all I could afford. SO I STOPPED. If you can raise them, afford them, by all means, have as many as you want. But if me and everyone else with a job, has to help you raise YOUR kids, you've got too many. I think Federal Assistance should stop at two children. Period. Anymore you have, you take care of...or the government can help you afford permanent birth control. I love children, and I want everyone to have as many as they personally want to have..but they must take responsibility. It is unfair for it to work any other way. That may sound really radical, but this world is in a radical mess. We have let everything just roll off of our backs. Just roll and roll to the point, that the people that should have no say so, seem to hold all the cards. Wasting my money, flushing it away.

Unlike those food stamps, this ain't play money I struggle and sweat for every day of my life. I, like many, deal with unbelievable stress just to make a living. To make a good living. To provide for my family. So some other poor soul doesn't have to ...provide for my family for me. I think if people who receive assistance are caught buying alcohol or cigarettes, the assistance should stop.The government can figure out to make sure your children get fed, you can figure out where your own next meal comes from.

In the past two years, more people than since the great depression, have been out of work. If you have lost your job, are in between jobs, and looking for a job, I will always help you. I will help you buy groceries and pay your light bill.  For those of you who seem to live your lives running from a job, I shouldn't have to help you do anything.

For the old, sick, physically or mentally incapable, I will work my heart out for you every day. To help you never be hungry, cold, or without what you need. For the rest of you, half of you younger than my old behind, bump you. You need to get off your sorry behinds and help yourselves. Have some pride about yourselves. And quit thinking the world owes you something. Nobody owes you anything, but yourself. I sure as heck don't. Even though Uncle Sam continues to tell me I do. Every week. He "borrows" from my check. To add to yours. So, have a baked potato with that steak. On me. I earned it. You eat it. And enjoy.

copyright © 2011 Michelle Mount Mims