TheBanyanTree: Bag Lady

[Margaret R. Kramer]

I met my former coworker for lunch in the big city of Minneapolis yesterday.
She’s a “bag lady,” except she’s a rich bag lady.  She squirrels away every
cent she makes.  She’s terrified she won’t have enough money for retirement,
except she’ll probably die from lung cancer long before she retires, because
she won’t at least try to quit smoking.  You can hear the mucous rattling
around in her lungs when she’s talking and she is constantly hacking and
wheezing.  You would think the rising cost of cigarettes would get her to
quit, but no, she clings to her habit as tenaciously as a dog guards his
bone.

Sue wears old, ill-fitting clothes.  They make her look like a bag lady.
They’re frayed and faded from too many washings and they are way out of
style, kind of polyester 70s style.  She’ll only buy new clothes if she
gains weight (and she’s gaining weight at an alarming rate) and then they’re
from a cheap store.

She keeps her house at 45 degrees in the winter.  She won’t use her window
air conditioner in the summer and then complains of being too hot.  She
watches the use of every electrical appliance.  She only washes dishes once
a week and just rinses a dish in hot water if she needs to use it again.
She only does laundry when she absolutely has nothing to wear.  Her live-in
boyfriend’s (he’s an alcoholic Vietnam War veteran who goes on two week
drinking benders and makes a minimum wage) old beat up car’s heater doesn’t
work, so Sue is agonizing about buying another car.

She finally broke down and saw a financial planner who told her she has more
than enough money to retire on.  In fact, it sounds like he was trying to
loosen her up and get her to spend some of her money and enjoy herself.  But
I get the feeling she’s going hang on to it just like she always has.  She’s
terrified of being poor.

We met at an Italian restaurant.  It’s difficult to do fun kinds of things
with Sue, because she constantly complains about the cost.  The first thing
she said was that she didn’t like Italian food.   Hmmm . . . she picked the
restaurant.  She ordered a poor boy and I ordered spaghetti.

The place was quiet and the waiter was attentive.  The food was good and my
salad was fabulous.  I ate about half of my spaghetti.  The waiter asked me
if I wanted a box and I said no.  But Sue said she would take it.

So the waiter boxed up my half eaten spaghetti and my half eaten meatball
and gave it to Sue.  My stomach is churning at the thought of her eating
food that I already chewed on.  Eeewww.

But that’s Sue.  If a restaurant has a salad bar, Sue will stuff the
packages of crackers and those little packets of salad dressing and any
other free thing she can grab into her pockets.

Other than the food, we had a nice leisurely lunch.  It was raining and cold
outside and we sat in the smoking section so Sue could puff away.  She paid
the check, but as usual, made sure she didn’t leave a tip for waiter.  He
gave her a funny look when she told him she wanted change back.  She
absolutely refuses to tip people.  When she went to the bathroom, I stuffed
a few bills under my plate.  He was a good waiter and deserved the extra.

But that’s Sue.  And it’s so sad.

Margaret R. Kramer
margaretkramer at comcast.net

http://www.polarispublications.com
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Business and Professional Women of Minnesota

You wouldn't believe
On All Hallow Eve
What lots of fun we can make,
With apples to bob,
And nuts on the hob,
And a ring-and-thimble cake.
~Carolyn Wells