During
my first year of college, I went on a trip with a group of other
classmates to New York City to network with alumni. At the end of the
day, after spending hours going from one company to the next, several of
the students talked about hanging out in the city for a while before
getting dinner.
“It’ll be so much fun,” they said. “You should totally come with us!”
I
said I would be happy to tag along, and I followed the group onto a
train headed towards another part of town. When we finally reached our
stop and climbed out onto the street, I suddenly found myself surrounded
by clothing stores and restaurants as far as the eye could see.
Feeling
a pit in my stomach, I followed the group into a store they decided to
enter at random, and walked idly around the interior as I gazed at the
golden lights, the shiny surfaces, the hard edges, and the beautiful
clothes.
I saw a pretty jacket and checked the price tag. $530.
“That
would look so cute on you!” One of the girls in the group, Melanie, was
suddenly standing beside me, taking the jacket from the hanger and
holding it up against my chest. “It totally goes with your hair color.”
“I think I’m good, thanks.”
“Are you sure?? It’s totally cute.”
“Honestly,
I’m okay.” I paused, noticing the piles of clothes Melanie held
clutched against her chest. “Did you find anything you like?”
“Oh
my gosh, yes! It totally sucks living in a college town because there
are, like, no clothing stores. I honestly try to come to NYC as much as
possible just to shop.”
I almost laughed,
thinking she was joking, but when Melanie turned away to inspect a
$1,000 dress hanging from the wall, I realized she was serious.
The
other students in the group ended up spending thousands of dollars at
the store, their purchases being folded carefully and tucked away into
colorful paper bags. It was only when they had finished that they
decided to eat dinner at a place across the street.
In
the nicest restaurant I had ever been to that year, I ordered the
cheapest appetizer I could find, and sat in silence as the students
around me reminisced about the private schools they had gone to, their
most recent vacations to Europe, the silly things they had made their
housekeepers do growing up.
When the dinner was
over, a student suggested seeing a broadway play, and one of the guys
pulled out his phone and told the group Cabaret was playing for only $250 a ticket.
“What
a steal!” Melanie, wearing her brand-new jacket, cried. “We have to
go!” She turned to look at me and gave me a big smile. “Do you want to
come?”
I knew I wasn’t going to be spending $250 for a show.
“I have a lot of homework,” I said. “But thanks anyway.”
Melanie
shrugged, and after paying for our dinner, the group walked out of the
restaurant into the chilly New York City air to head towards the show. I
walked back to the hotel alone, and spent the night studying for my
upcoming Sociology exam.
When I had finished
studying, I lay back in the starched sheets of the bed and wondered what
it was like for those classmates of mine, who had grown up with the
ability to spend thousands of dollars on clothing, to go on trips to big
cities to see expensive shows and blow even more money on fancy
restaurants and stores. Who went to summer camp, private schools, who
lived in big houses with maids and housekeepers, who went on vacation to
foreign countries, staying in beautiful hotels.
To
be very honest, I find it fascinating to be surrounded by classmates
who come from wealth like I have never experienced. I’m not embarrassed
for being unable to afford the things some of my classmates buy dozens
of through online shopping. I’m not embarrassed for growing up being
told “no” again and again, because my family simply didn’t have enough
money.
I’m proud of who I am, and where I’ve come from. And that’s enough for me.
