If there's a war on the middle class, I'm enlisting to fight for it!

After writing Bait and Switch (a book you should all buy, as well as these other other texts), author Barbara Ehrenreich explains, " [it] inspired me to do something totally new . . . build an organization for unemployed, underemployed, and anxiously employed white collar workers. My research on the book showed me that college-educated workers are extremely vulnerable to downward mobility [my emphasis], and often end up in the kinds of low-wage jobs I had done for Nickel and Dimed. With some help from the Service Employees International Union, a group of people I met while on my book tour launched United Professionals in 2006, and we can be found at unitedprofessionals.org. We’re still small and struggling, but hoping to build a response to the 'war on the middle class' that is undermining so many lives." (I'm proud to say that I am a volunteer for UP and am a legislative researcher for their website!).

 I certainly understand how quickly one can find herself on a sudden and unplanned track of "downward mobility,"  and I'm pretty sure that most of my readers understand exactly what Ehrenreich is talking about. Many of them are already there and are also part of the indentured educated class. That makes it even worse. (Edububble recently made a compelling argument about why it's so bad to be a part of this new class).

But I had no idea how vulnerable I was to become until quite recently. I don't know if that's a result of my naivete or some attempt to hold onto hope. One thing is certain, I now find much more comfort in Yelena's Ivy Leagued and Unemployed blog than I had before. Because at the end of the day, especially when you're living through Great Depression Deux, it doesn't matter if you went to Harvard, Brown, or some no-name school like Washburn. If there ain't jobs, there ain't jobs. So we're out of work, underemployed, and struggling to make through the month (for some, the next day).

I've always loved the theme of class, and researched and wrote about it as a Ph.D. student (I gobble anything up about the bourgeoisie!). However, the concept of class was something with which I became intimately familiar long before I had read and researched Marxist theories about the bourgeoisie or Walter Benjamin's notions about the arcades. 

In fact, I grew up fearful of becoming impoverished as an adult. As long as I can remember, I thought it was inevitable. There are multifarious reasons for why I thought I'd end up in the poorhouse, but I won't delve into them here. Suffice to say one factor was a result of the fact that my father came from poverty. I was familiar with how hard the Great Depression was for my single grandmother (his mom), and grew up hearing stories about the Dust Bowl, empty cupboards, growling stomachs, and so forth (I even learned that chickens could taste like grasshoppers if they ate enough of those suckers during droughts!). Armed with a vivid imagination, I quickly worked out a kaleidoscope of rich, varied images that denoted the "utterly poor." It was terrifying stuff. These pictures were set against an ominous backdrop of impending financial doom. 

My grandmother was a young woman in a world that looked like this picture - it was taken in Kansas in 1941!

Even though I grew up in a seemingly stable, beautiful, and big home, I was aware that my father always struggled to stay afloat. Nothing was ever big enough. We didn't have the newest BMW or Mercedes. The paint on our white colonial was constantly peeling. The carpets were filthy and needed to be replaced. Despite how hard my father worked, how many hours he spent away from home at his job, he struggled to maintain our upper-middle class lifestyle. (He was the first person in his family who obtained a college degree. More than that, he recieved an L.L.M. from the George Washington University). So long before the student lending crisis, I knew that a degree didn't guarantee security. Seeing a smart and well-educated man like him struggle to keep us in a nice home taught me a few lessons about class, as did his mother. 

Just 6 weeks ago I revisited those childhood terrors, and thought once again about how easy it could be to end up homeless. Yep. That's how bad it has gotten for me. Many of you are aware that I recently had a major accident. I fell down a wooden flight of stairs and was unable to work for over a week. For complicated reasons that I'm not interested in discussing, I left my publishing job. In order to make ends meet, and with no luck landing another salaried position like the one I left behind, I decided to try and get back into the world of retail. It wasn't something I really wanted to do, but it was much better than my only other job prospect at the time - Outback Steakhouse.  Again, the job of a server isn't beneath me, but it sure as hell wasn't' going to pay the hefty bills I have and were managing (kinda) to cover with my job in publishing.

Like many of you, I was scared out of my wits. When my current employer called me in for an interview, I was delighted. Sure, retail is tough work, but at least you stay clean, and you don't have to worry about spilling drinks on your customers. (I was a good server, so I never once spilled a drink on someone, but I bet my chances of pouring liquids on someone would have risen exponentially if I'd gone back to serving). I was offered the job and took it immediately. 

I kid you not, that's what I looked a few hours ago, just before I came home. Phew, am I tired!

To make matters worse, I decided to throw myself down an entire flight of stairs. You aren't a good "salesgirl" when most of your back is severey bruised and you have lacerations on your arms, so - as I already said - I had to call out for an entire week. Since I am a new salesgal, I had to call on a regular basis to "touch base" with the HR office and assure them that I wanted to return. When I returned, limping and struggling to lift the lightest of objects, I learned that I had almost been let go. I may be injured and in pain, but I sure feel lucky as hell to have this job still. So, to hell with my back! I need to earn some sort of wage.

With this turn of events, I've been finding myself in some heavy conversations with my spouse. A whole lot of ever-so-serious talks have been happening for months now, and we're faced with making some serious decisions about our future here . . .

So, here's my question: what sort of serious big-stuff/life questions are you discussing with your loved ones and/or partner as a result of the economy and your student loan debt? (Please share below).