Personal Narrative: My Growing Up Poor

I, as a poor college student aiming to get a degree in German Literature and High German Art, understand what it’s like to be poor in a working class to middle class environment. I grew up poor, or rather I grew up thinking I was middle class but found out in high school that I fall a bit below that mark. In growing up poor, I wore knockoff clothing or Wal-Mart brand clothing, or just hand-me-downs from my parents, who had me when they were teens, and I didn’t exactly think that was bad until around middle school, when your clothes began to define you as a person to these shallow little monsters that just reached Tween-hood.

I knew I didn’t have a lot of money, all my friends lived in either houses or townhouses or duplexes while me and my

I splurge in my moments of weakness, but I bought the cheapest computer I could find, I wear thrift store shoes and clothes, half of my wardrobe in free merchandise from the University, and I love a good deal on food and toiletries. In being poorer than some of my classmates, I have a campus job. I work in the Mayflower Convenience Store 20 to 30 hours a week, and 4 of my 5 shifts are the closing shifts, meaning I’m normally stocking a fridge at 12 or 1 AM on Sunday, Monday, Thursday, and Friday. As a campus employee, I “represent the University,” and to my fellow employees that means they wanted to be seen as anonymous or rather, all conversations and opinions hereafter are, unless otherwise noted, my own.

In working for the university, I’ve learned plenty of “real world skills” such as: how to lie to avoid harassment, how to seem more feminine and less threatening, on the fly code switching, and general customer service skills. These aren’t the only things I’ve learned from my time working for Housing and Dining, but my favorites are the communication skills and how to internalized hate for dumb costumers.

“Is there, like, anything in the back? Like, you guys haven’t had ‘Half Baked’ B and J, in like, a week.”

“Sorry, there’s nothing in the back, ice cream tends to be delivered every other week, but I work nights, so I don’t really know the schedule.