u/Miserable_Willow_312

How the hell did we live on so little money... and what did we do all day?

I've been thinking about what it cost me to live on my own when I was young compared to now, and also what the hell I actually did with all my free time. I lived on my own in a small Midwestern city from 1986 through 2000, mostly working minimum wage jobs and renting apartments. Looking back, my financial life was ridiculously simple. I usually owned some cheap used car outright, so no car payment. I apparently paid liability insurance once it was required because I followed the law, but the cost must have been insignificant enough that I don't even remember it as a regular expense.

No internet bill. No cell phone bill. I didn't even have a home phone much of the time. In the 90s I had a pager. No streaming services.

No Spotify. No cloud storage. No apps charging me $4.99 here and $9.99 there. No Amazon Prime, DoorDash, Instacart or delivery memberships.No Ring camera subscription. No $1,000 smartphone that would eventually need replacing. No Microsoft 365 or other software subscriptions.No health insurance premium coming out of my paycheck. I wasn't taking regular medications, so no prescription costs either.

I didn't even have a checking account for a good portion of those years. On payday I'd take my paper paycheck to the bank it was drawn on or to the local grocery store and cash it. If I went to the grocery store, I could buy my groceries AND pay my utility bills there. I'd leave with whatever cash was left and that was basically my budget until the next paycheck. Eventually I discovered one very useful reason to get a checking account: the pre-payday check float.

If payday was still two or three days away and I needed gas, cigarettes, food or whatever, I could write a check even though there wasn't enough money in my account to cover it yet. Back then a paper check could take several days to make its journey through the banking system. The trick was knowing that my paycheck would be deposited before the check actually cleared. It was basically poor-person credit with a 72-hour maturity date. Obviously you had to know your timing, because getting it wrong meant bounced-check fees and a world of shit. But I can't be the only Gen Xer who occasionally looked at the calendar and thought, "Yep, I can write this check. Payday will beat it to the bank."

No debit card. No automatic payments. No 14 different companies quietly reaching into my bank account throughout the month. My bills were basically rent, utilities, groceries, gas, keeping the car running, eventually liability insurance, and maybe my pager. And somehow I ate fast food all the damn time. I rarely went to actual sit-down restaurants, though.

Then I started thinking about the OTHER side of this. What the hell did I do all day? I didn't have cable most of the time. We had maybe 5 or 6 local TV channels, and if nothing I wanted to watch was on, that was it. The television had basically announced, "We're done entertaining you now." I owned a VCR but rarely owned movies. I'd rent them. And God help you if you owed the video store late fees. You could walk in with your 49 cents to rent a cheap movie and discover you were essentially entertainment insolvent because you owed them $3.72 from the last one.

So I know I spent a lot less time at home. I vaguely remember driving around for absolutely no reason. Going to people's houses. Sitting around talking for hours. Going to stores without really needing anything. Going for food. Listening to entire albums. Reading magazines. Sitting outside. Taking drives. Hanging around after work. And WAITING! We waited for people to show up. Waited in lines. Waited for rides. Waited for food. Waited through commercials. Waited for a song to come on the radio so we could record it onto a cassette, only to have the DJ talk over the damn intro. Today every 90 seconds of nothing gets filled by pulling out a phone. Back then, 90 seconds of nothing was apparently just... 90 seconds of nothing. That's the part that fascinates me now. I had the exact same 24 hours in a day, but I'll be damned if I can account for most of them. There weren't photos of everything. No texts to look back through. No Facebook check-ins. No Google timeline. No streaming history. No digital trail documenting every ordinary day. Apparently we just lived the Tuesday. Then Wednesday happened.

So fellow Gen Xers: what did your monthly expenses actually look like when you first lived on your own, and more importantly, WHAT THE HELL DID WE DO WITH ALL THAT TIME? 😂

Sometimes I wonder how ordinary people become people they once wouldn't have recognized

I've been thinking a lot about Nazi Germany lately. Not so much about Hitler himself, but about the millions of ordinary people who lived there. I think we sometimes make history too comfortable by telling ourselves that those people must have been fundamentally different from us.

They weren't.

Germany did not suddenly wake up one morning filled with millions of people eager to persecute their neighbors. Antisemitism already existed in Germany and throughout Europe, but propaganda took existing prejudices, frustrations, fears and economic hardship and relentlessly gave people someone to blame. That's the part of the history that fascinates and terrifies me.

It wasn't necessary to convince everyone of the most extreme idea immediately.

First, you convince people that something has been taken from them.Then you tell them who took it. You repeat the message until familiarity begins to feel like evidence.

You portray certain groups as dangerous, dishonest, inferior or responsible for society's problems. You undermine trust in anyone who contradicts the message. You create an environment where information is judged less by whether it's true and more by whether it comes from "us" or "them."

Eventually, disagreement itself becomes suspicious. Neighbors become categories.

People who once simply had different opinions become enemies. Cruelty becomes humor. Humor becomes acceptable language. Acceptable language becomes acceptable behavior. And each step makes the next one a little easier.

That's what I think gets lost when we learn this history. We see photographs of crowds giving Nazi salutes and imagine that everyone in those photographs began as the person we're seeing.

They didn't.

They had jobs. They worried about money. They loved their families. They complained about their neighbors. They went shopping. They celebrated birthdays. They probably thought of themselves as decent people.

Some resisted. Some quietly disagreed. Some looked away. Some enthusiastically participated. And some changed.

That's the group I can't stop thinking about.

How much repetition does it take before something you once considered outrageous begins sounding reasonable? How frightened do you have to make someone before they'll accept cruelty as protection? How often must someone be told that another human being is responsible for their problems before resentment becomes hatred?

And at what point does a person stop asking, "Is this true?" and start asking only, "Is this person one of us?" We like believing we'd recognize propaganda immediately. We like believing we'd have been one of the people who resisted.

Maybe we would have been. But propaganda wouldn't be particularly powerful if everyone experiencing it recognized it as propaganda.

That's why I think the most valuable question history leaves us isn't: "How could those people have done that?"

It's: "How would I know if it were happening to me?"

I miss when every corner of everyday life didn't seem to demand an opinion.

I miss when I could enjoy a musician, actor, or athlete without eventually being told what they thought about every controversial social issue. They have every right to speak their minds, just like anyone else. I simply miss when entertainment and constant commentary didn't seem so inseparable.

I miss when people could fiercely disagree about important issues and still recognize that disagreement didn't automatically make the other person stupid, immoral, or the enemy. Compromise wasn't always treated as weakness, and changing your mind after hearing new information wasn't considered a character flaw.

I miss when expertise carried more weight. Scientists, physicians, economists, historians, engineers, and other professionals certainly aren't infallible, but expertise now seems to compete on equal footing with whoever has the biggest platform, the most confidence, or the most persuasive 60-second video.

I miss when the news felt more like "here is what happened" and less like "here is what happened, and here is how you should feel about it." Bias in journalism isn't new, but the combination of 24-hour news, algorithms, outrage, and competition for clicks has made separating reporting from commentary feel like work.

I miss not knowing everyone's position on every controversial subject. Friends, relatives, neighbors, coworkers, and complete strangers didn't need to publicly announce where they stood on everything. You could know someone for years without knowing all of their beliefs and still decide whether they were a decent person based on how they actually treated people.

I miss being able to see an incredible photograph, hear an astonishing recording, or watch a remarkable video and simply experience it. Now my first reaction is increasingly, "Is this actually real? Has it been altered? Did this really happen?" We're entering an era where seeing something with our own eyes is no longer enough to know that it's authentic.

Maybe some of what I miss never existed quite as perfectly as I remember it. Nostalgia has a way of sanding down the rough edges of the past. But I don't think that's all of it.

What I really miss is a world that felt less performative, less tribal, and less saturated with everyone's opinions all the time. I miss being able to disagree with someone without immediately sorting them into a category. I miss expertise having authority without requiring a fan base. I miss information that didn't constantly demand an emotional reaction.

Mostly, I miss who I thought the world would become when I was in my 20s. And even more than that, I miss how much hope I had for the world that was coming.

Who else remembers this game? I'll admit, I used to cheat by looking at the shoes of the person tapping my thumb while my head was down on the desk, but strategically close to the edge. 😂

​

Remember Cheryl? HR's favorite "learning opportunity?"

Well, our agency had a booth at the local Pride event this past weekend, and she showed up, even though we were all hoping she would've called in sick. None of us were optimistic about the outcome and took bets on how long she could go without saying or doing something inappropriate. Cheryl, along with the rest of staff completed approximately 12 hours of mandatory diversity trainings and she had assured everyone she was "much more aware now."

That confidence lasted about twelve minutes into the event.

The first awkward moment happened when Cheryl began what she described as "respectful curiosity" with a gay man who stopped by the booth.

"So when did you know you were gay?"

Before he could fully answer, Cheryl followed up with:

"What made you decide to become gay?"

And then, because apparently there are achievement levels in inappropriate conversations:

"Have you ever really given women a fair chance?"

The poor guy looked like he was trying to calculate whether escaping into traffic would be easier than continuing the conversation.

Later, Cheryl met several transgender attendees and demonstrated her commitment to inclusion by consistently using the wrong pronouns despite being politely corrected multiple times.

At one point she referred to a transgender woman as "he" three separate times in less than two minutes. After being corrected, Cheryl smiled and said, "I'm trying. This stuff is just so confusing these days."

For the record, the woman in question had long hair, makeup, a dress, a purse, and introduced herself using she/her pronouns. The only thing confusing was Cheryl's determination to turn every interaction into a pop quiz she hadn't studied for.

The rest of us spent most of the event performing damage control and redirecting conversations before Cheryl could ask anyone if they had considered "trying the other team."

By the end of the day, our Pride booth was less community outreach and more a live demonstration of why HR needs to keeps scheduling mandatory trainings.

The good news is nobody filed a complaint.

The bad news is Cheryl now considers the event a huge success because she "asked a lot of questions and learned things."

We're all terrified to find out what she learned.

EDIT Instead of responding to each commenter I'll respond here. Every coworker has tried more times than we can count to redirect, educate, and change Cheryl's inappropriate behavior and comments. We are not her superior. She answers to HR directly, as so we all since we work in a satellite office. Detailed notes are taken endlessly and given to HR on Cheryl. But each time there are little to no real change. Our agency has a system of discipline that is followed meticulously. For instance, she received a coaching for her remarks made to our coworker about how she should be doing the Pride event planning because it benefits her community, not Cheryl's. We were all made to attend mandatory cultural training to ensure HR covers the agency. If Cheryl's behavior during the Pride event receives HR attention it would again be a coaching due to it being a separate event. It's near impossible for individuals like her that are mostly covert and live in plausible deniability land to be fired. Every single time one of us has made retorts to her unsavory comments and behaviors, we, ourselves get HR attention. None of us want to become unemployed so we do our jobs, alert HR to concerns, and do the best we can to survive her.

A lot of people asked for updates on Cheryl, so unfortunately I have one.

For those unfamiliar, Cheryl is the coworker who recently informed one of our gay employees that she should be doing most of the work for our agency's Pride booth because it was "for your people." HR got involved after multiple complaints and we were all required to attend mandatory cultural sensitivity training today.

You would think Cheryl would maybe lay low for a while.

You would be wrong.

Despite not being anyone's supervisor, Cheryl continues to act like she runs the place. She still inserts herself into decisions that have nothing to do with her job, tells people how they should be doing things, and generally behaves like she's management's special project. As for HR? They've apparently decided that checking a box is easier than actually addressing behavior. Their solution was to gather everyone into a room for mandatory training, which somehow managed to punish the entire staff while accomplishing absolutely nothing.

The highlight of the week happened during the training itself, this morning.

The facilitator was discussing respecting different backgrounds, experiences, and identities. Most of us were quietly listening and trying to get through it. Cheryl, however, seemed personally offended by the entire concept. She interrupted repeatedly. She argued over examples. She spent a good portion of the session explaining why people are "too sensitive these days" and insisting that "everything is offensive now." At one point she loudly announced that she "treats everybody the same" as if that was some profound contribution to a discussion about cultural awareness.

The room got so uncomfortable you could practically hear people trying not to make eye contact. The best part was watching her confidently argue with the trainer about a topic she was literally attending training for because of her own behavior. The lack of self-awareness was almost impressive.

Meanwhile, the employee who was actually targeted by Cheryl's comments sat through the entire thing with far more patience and professionalism than I would have managed. By the end of the training, HR probably considered it a success because everyone signed the attendance sheet. The rest of us left with the same Cheryl we walked in with. She's still acting like the boss. She's still entitled. She's still convinced she's the smartest person in every room. And HR is still treating her like a paperwork problem instead of an employee problem.

At this point I fully expect Cheryl to volunteer herself as next year's cultural sensitivity trainer.

I have a lot of traumatic memories from my childhood, and I've shared a few of them here before. Writing them out has been strangely cathartic, so I'm sharing another one that comes back to me often.

My parents were abusive in many ways, and I'm still trying to process and come to terms with everything that happened growing up.

One memory that has stayed with me involves my maternal grandmother. When I was around 6 or 7 years old, she lived with us for a period of time after suffering several strokes. They affected her mobility and cognitive functioning, and she was dependent on others for much of her care.

I remember witnessing my mother put a pillow over my grandmother's face and hold it there while my grandmother struggled underneath it. After a short time, my mother would stop and leave the room as if nothing had happened. This wasn't a single incident. I witnessed it multiple times.

To this day, I don't know whether my grandmother fully understood what was happening to her. What I do know is that I never told anyone. Just like with the abuse directed at me, I stayed silent.

As an adult, I find myself questioning my memories and wondering if they could really have happened the way I remember them. But this is one of those memories that has remained vivid for decades. It's something I still think about, and it continues to affect me even now.

I don't really have a question. I just needed to put this somewhere people might understand.

Well, we finally heard back from HR regarding Cheryl telling our openly gay coworker that she should be the one doing the Pride booth work because "she's the gay one" and Cheryl isn't.

HR determined Cheryl's comments were inappropriate and unprofessional. However, they also concluded that Cheryl was attempting to discuss staffing assignments and did not intend to offend anyone. Because there was no evidence of malicious intent and because Cheryl has no prior disciplinary actions on file, regarding this type of concern, she received a written warning and coaching from her supervisor.

The part that really got people was HR's recommendation going forward. Rather than removing Cheryl from Pride-related activities, management decided that all staff participating in community outreach events will complete a short (3 hours) cultural sensitivity training next Saturday. So Cheryl got a write-up, but now everyone else has to sit through training too and on mandatory OT.

When Katie asked why Cheryl was still allowed to work the booth after making those comments, management said they believed this was a "learning opportunity" and that excluding her would be counterproductive.

So the employee Cheryl singled out gets to spend the Pride event working alongside the person who told her the event should be her responsibility simply because she's gay. And the rest of us sink a little further into a hole of regret for helping keep this monster alive in our office.

Cheryl, meanwhile, has been telling people she was "cleared by HR" and that the whole thing was just a misunderstanding.

She's like a cat and has 9 freaking lives!!

I think we finally have something solid for HR to act on.

Our agency is a community mental health provider, and we're planning to have a booth at the local Pride festival this month. Cheryl was assigned to help organize the agency swag and take a shift staffing the booth.

During morning staffing today, we were going over the plan when Cheryl looked directly at Katie, the only openly gay employee on our team, and said, "I'm not sure why I'm doing all this extra work when you should probably be doing it. It's for your people anyway."

Without missing a beat, Katie replied, "It's not extra work. It's part of your job. And if everyone followed your logic, nobody would have helped with Black History Month events either."

Cheryl rolled her eyes and said, "Real causes are fine. Made-up things are silly."

The room went completely silent. The subject was immediately changed to other business.

Kati got up right after the meeting and walked to HR. The rest of us already have emails in our inboxes scheduling meetings and requesting written statements about what happened.

For the first time in a long time, it feels like Cheryl may have finally crossed a line that even she can't talk her way out of.

Cheryl has everyone irritated again and it's day 1 back from 4 days off.

She has this habit of correcting people publicly over the smallest things. This morning, one of the newer staff asked a simple question about documentation requirements, and instead of just helping, Cheryl goes into this long condescending explanation in front of everyone about how “these are things people should already know before working here.” The room got quiet fast.

What makes it exhausting is that she constantly presents herself as the only competent person in the office while creating tension everywhere she goes. She’ll complain that morale is bad, then spend the entire day gossiping about coworkers, questioning how other people do their jobs, keeping track of coffee breaks, and forwarding passive aggressive emails instead of just having normal conversations.

The funniest part was right after going off on the new staff, one coworker finally got a subtle dig in without sounding unprofessional. Cheryl started criticizing how the staff member organized their caseload notes, and after Cheryl finished talking, the coworker just calmly said, “I think most people care more about whether the work gets done than whether it gets done Cheryl’s exact way.”

Nobody said a word after that, but a couple people suddenly became very interested in looking down at their laptops trying not to laugh. I did a low chuckle before I could stop myself so I'm sure I'll be under scrutiny from her this week.

The wildest part is Cheryl still seems genuinely confused why nobody wants to work closely with her anymore. She said as much right before the morning meeting. People aren’t avoiding Cheryl because she’s strict or direct. They avoid her because every interaction feels like she’s keeping score against them.

There’s a woman at work named Cheryl and I swear every office has a version of her.

She’s not openly mean enough to get in trouble, but she somehow makes the entire atmosphere heavier the second she walks into a room. You can literally hear conversations die when she appears around the corner.

Cheryl acts like she’s management despite not actually supervising anyone. She monitors everyone constantly. If someone comes back from lunch a few minutes late, she’ll quietly say: “Half days must be nice.”

If someone calls in sick, she suddenly becomes an investigator: “Hm. They were fine yesterday.” She also has this talent for disguising criticism as concern. She’ll say things like: “You seem really tired lately. Everything okay?” in front of other coworkers so now everyone turns to look at you like you’re falling apart.

The breakroom is the worst. Someone could be talking about a new puppy, vacation plans, or literally anything enjoyable, and Cheryl somehow redirects it into negativity within thirty seconds.

Coworker: “We’re going camping this weekend.”

Cheryl: “Hope you packed emergency supplies. My cousin got stranded once and almost lost a toe.” Nobody even knows how to respond to that.

She also keeps track of things that no normal person should notice. She remembers exactly how long people take on break, who leaves early, who orders takeout too often, who seems “off” lately. She never directly accuses anyone of anything, but she says just enough to make people uncomfortable. The strangest part is she genuinely thinks she’s helpful. If there’s tension in the office that she personally caused, she’ll sit there saying: “I just think communication has really broken down around here.”

Meanwhile everyone is actively avoiding eye contact with her. At this point people schedule lunches around Cheryl. If someone sees her heading for the breakroom, they suddenly remember they “have emails to finish.” New employees usually try to be friendly with her at first, but within about two weeks they develop the same thousand-yard stare as the rest of us.

What makes it worse is there’s never a big dramatic event HR can point to. It’s just years of constant small comments, judgment, negativity, and hovering until the entire office collectively feels emotionally exhausted whenever she’s around.

I'm not bothered enough by her to leave my longterm employment, but she really does make the work week feel exhausting.

I'm not exactly sure what to do with this information, but it feels ethically questionable to me.

I'm an LCSW at a CCBHO and work closely with agency caseworkers for several high-needs clients, many involving substance use and significant community resource needs. During staffing this morning regarding a mutual client who has been in outreach status due to no contact for 3 weeks, the caseworker explained the steps he had taken to locate them.

He mentioned the usual avenues: local jail bookings, emergency contacts, last known address, and EMRs through partnering healthcare systems. But he also stated he searched the client on Facebook, Instagram, Discord, and Snapchat. According to him, the client had recent activity and posts showing they were alive and still local.

I've worked in this field a long time and have never known coworkers to search through a client's personal social media in this way as part of outreach. Maybe I'm out of touch, but this feels intrusive to me.

I reviewed our agency policies and code of conduct and couldn't find anything specifically addressing it. Is this becoming normal practice in community mental health/case management, or does this feel inappropriate to others as well?