Page 18 of Falling Slowly
“You know what? I’m gonna do the same.” Charlie picked up the leftover quarters of my pastries, loading them onto his plate. “I’m always trying to choose the best looking one and then wondering if I made the right choice, when I could have been sampling everything. This is genius.”
I smiled, feeling a little lighter.
We returned to the table, our trays filled with various treats, juice bottles and cereal, as well as cups of steaming coffee.
“This is amazing.” I sighed.
Charlie frowned, studying his tray. “I’ll see if I can order some eggs. Do you want any? Scrambled okay? That’s probably fastest.”
“Eggs?”
“Yeah. Protein. But don’t get your hopes up yet. They might not have the chef onsite right now.”
I hadn’t even considered that the breakfast buffet could be lacking something. Not waiting for my answer, Charlie got up and traipsed across the hall, slipping through a doorway marked ‘staff only’. I held my breath, slightly stunned.
After a moment, he returned with a triumphant grin, and a few minutes later, a server brought us two plates of scrambled eggs and sausages. I was already quite full, but I had to admit they were delicious.
“I need protein in the morning,” he explained. “Don’t you?”
“No, I live exclusively on carbs and fat.”
He laughed at my stupid joke. “Okay, yeah. I meant I prefer a better balance. Less sugar.”
“We usually have oatmeal with jam. Celia’s preferred balance would be jam with a smattering of oats.”
“Oatmeal is great. More protein than cereal.”
“That’s what I tell myself when I can’t afford anything else.” I instantly wanted to swallow the words with the scrambled eggs. I was here to add value, not to have a pity party. “So, what was the feedback on that Thriver campaign?”
To my relief, Charlie switched gears. “The focus group thought it wasn’t relevant to them. Basically, nobody felt like taking action. So, I guess we need to make it more direct. Although I don’t know how much more direct it can get. I mean, the words ‘learn money management’ are right there.”
“Uh-huh. And the people you’re trying to reach… who are they?”
Charlie took a long sip of coffee, looking away. “The lower socio-economic quartile. Families on single income, seasonally employed?—”
“The chronically broke?”
Charlie squirmed in his seat. “Yeah, I mean… no…”
“It’s okay. That’s how I’d describe myself.” He’d asked for my unfiltered thoughts. I didn’t want to whine about my situation, but if my misfortunes helped him with this campaign, maybe it was worth it.
Charlie met my gaze, swallowing but no longer looking away. Waiting for me to continue. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, but it was too late to back out. “The thing about being broke is… it brings out the worst in you. Makes it harder to plan or up-skill or make decisions that will benefit you in the long term. Because you need money now. You’re in a state of stress, and that stress is narrowing your vision to what’s right in front of you. Tomorrow is hazy. Next week looms there on the horizon. Next month doesn’t exist. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Charlie propped his elbow on the table and leaned on his hand, staring at me like I was giving a riveting Ted Talk. “Yeah. That makes sense. So, asking a person to sign up for a training that will help them in the next six months or a year…”
“Exactly. It doesn’t make sense. It’s not a solution to your immediate problem, which is what your brain is acutely trying to solve. Like the next week’s rent, or the medical bills, or daycare fees… or the loan shark repayments.”
His eyes widened.
“For some people,” I quickly added.
He didn’t need to know I was some people.
“That’s something I’ve never understood,” he confessed. “Like… why would you go to a loan shark? There are options like payday loans, cash advance…”
I nodded. “Yes, and when you’re in a relaxed state of mind, with moderate stress levels, you’re able to research those options and make good choices. But the thing about financial stress is that it sort of creeps up on you. Things get harder, deadlines get closer, your balance is running out… and sometimes, you’re still there, half-hoping for a miracle, thinking you’re okay for a week or two, when something happens. It doesn’t have to be big. Like a flat tire. Or your kid’s sick and you don’t have any sick days left. You know they’ll deduct your pay. And suddenly, it’s panic city.”
Charlie’s voice was low. “And that’s when you take the first offer, eh?”
