Because we have to.
But I can't really complain about this job because as it turns out, I freaking looooooove it. I can't speak for every BR store, but I've fallen in love with the staff and management. On my second day, one of my co-workers, a woman in her fifties, came up to me and said, "You are going to LOVE working here." But I was already sold. Our store attracts the nicest customers. There is no stress. Lots of smiles and laughter. I help women match earrings to necklaces, I fold sweaters, and I go home.
I thought I was going to hate this. I thought I was going to be working with jaded, underpaid zombies who were sick of waiting on pinched-faced, entitled customers all day. So when I was shopping at BR one day, they were having their hiring blitz for the holidays and they approached me about the possibility of working there as temporary seasonal help. I rolled my eyes at first because customer service is NOT my strong point. I've always thought I'm better suited locked in a back room with a computer where my mouth can't get me in trouble. (Indeed, on my second shift at Banana, I used the term "sperm dumpster." It was not to a customer, and it was met with riotous laughter, but still.....what is wrong with me....) One of my first jobs out of college was at the Cheesecake Factory and I should have been fired so, so many times. I once offered an asshole customer a cup of turpentine. Another time, a customer asked me if I liked my job and I looked him dead in the eye and said, "I don't give a shit about my job. Are you ready to order?"
I'm not proud of that behavior today. But then again, there are very few things I can point to in my early 20's and say "I'm proud of that! Go me!" I came away from that experience thinking that waitressing was about the worst job I could have chosen, and wary of people in general. My job choices slowly had less and less contact with other people. By the time I walked into BR that day, I had two jobs and two volunteer gigs - all four were telecommuting positions. So I decided to give BR - and myself - another chance, and I'm glad I did.
Now, you might be asking yourself why I went through all of this if I already have two jobs. A third? My husband has a child from his first marriage, but we have no children. We have a nice house, but it's nothing fancy. We don't travel extensively, the only expensive jewelry I have is my wedding ring, and we don't covet fancy cars. My husband is a successful veterinarian. Why do I need three jobs?
Because the four years at the University of Minnesota Veterinary School has put us in almost a half million dollars in debt.
So far.
With $26,000 in interest tacked on every year, it's growing rapidly. And then that interest generates interest, and so on until the number gets so big it's not even real to me any more. It started out as a $300,000 loan in 2012 (plus about $50,000 for Will's undergrad degree, because you can't just walk into a veterinary program without first getting a bachelor's), but because a starting salary for a veterinarian in our area is about $50,000, our debt is growing. Fast.
My husband and his fellow veterinary students literally had to take a class to learn how to live in debt the rest of their lives. (I keep meaning to call the U of M to ask how much that class cost us with as little sarcasm as I can muster.) Even the school is beyond pretending like this is something that can ever realistically be paid off for most everybody. They know they're setting up their students to fail. That they're setting up Americans to fail. That they're setting up the future workforce of our country to fail.
I was raised to never talk about money: good, bad, or otherwise. You didn't talk about how much money you made, how much you owed, how much you donated, or how much you spent. You didn't show off and you didn't complain. So it was hard for me to talk about this.
At first.
But now, my conversations look something like this:
"How come you took a third job?"
"Because we're $500,000 in debt from four years of veterinary school."
"Because we're $500,000 in debt from four years of veterinary school."
"Why did you take another job?"
"Because the government has put us in almost a half million dollars in debt."
"Hey, I like your new haircut!"
"Thanks! We will never be able to pay off our school loans as long as we live."
"Thanks! We will never be able to pay off our school loans as long as we live."
As I get older and wiser (hmmm... "wiser" may be pushing it), I'm learning that I'm embarrassed about things I should not be embarrassed about. Like my "friend" who tried to force himself on me in college? I was embarrassed about that until.....well, until I personally confronted it just a couple days ago. Why the fuck it took me almost twenty years to realize that he should be the one that's not only embarrassed, but also filled with shame while he sits in a jail cell.....
Likewise, some people have tried to embarrass us about this: "Well, he didn't have to become a veterinarian. He chose that. You guys chose to put yourselves in this situation."
Okay. Let's look at that.
First, that's all true. Will didn't have to become a veterinarian. But it was his dream. About six months into his career as a full-fledged doctor, he came home and said, "I feel like I'm doing what I was meant to do. When I get to work, I feel like I'm coming home." So yeah, he didn't have to become a veterinarian. So you score one point, nay-sayers: He certainly could have abandoned his dream and chosen a career that would be less fulfilling and probably paid off his school loans in fifteen years.
But remember this: If you feel comfortable saying this to us, you better get comfortable saying it to your kids.
"Mommy, I want to be a veterinarian someday!"
"Well, honey, you certainly can! And what a great dream, because you I know how much your adore Tootlebuttons. But you'll be in debt the rest of your life because we can't raise $400,000 [I'm adjusting for inflation] by the time you're old enough to go to school. But I think we can afford for you to be an accountant! Doesn't that sound like fun? C'mon, grab Tootlebuttons and I'll show you what a spreadsheet is."
Why anybody would think the solution to all this is to reserve certain professions for the wealthy and privileged is shocking to me. That is a shitty, shitty solution. If you don't realize how shitty a solution that is, again: try explaining it to your kids.
I realized that my embarrassment about our debt and my reluctance to talk about it was making me complicit in allowing this go on. Many people don't realize how bad the situation is getting and they're in for a surprise when their kids reach college age. (Actually, it's the kids who are in for a surprise because all they've heard their whole lives is "You can be whatever you want if you just work hard enough." If they have to learn that's bullshit the same time they learn Santa isn't real, that's going to be a tough week.) I realized part of the reason for people's ignorance is because the shame of debt has zipped our lips.
And the truth is, I'm still embarrassed. I can't help that yet. It's an automatic reaction. But what I won't do is allow the embarrassment to silence me.
Because like my "friend" in college, I should not be the one who's embarrassed. There are people with the power to do something about this and they won't until we make them. They're the ones who should be embarrassed, filled with shame. And sitting alongside his ass in jail.
My name is Tauni and I have almost a half million dollars in debt. And I am pissed off.
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