Too Poor to Be Poor Enough

I’ve oftentimes felt underappreciated by the government. This was one of those times that really stuck out. I am not a wealthy person. I just happen to be good at saving money. That said, I’d rather keep saving it for a nice future than spend it right now and that’s why I live in a murder building. However, there came a day where that might have changed. A new apartment complex was currently in construction and they were offering low income housing for us peasants. A coworker of mine had mentioned it to me and though I was content where I lived, I decided to look more into it. 
The place was a bachelor suite like my own, slightly larger in size but with everything I could ever want in an apartment. The kitchen was large and spacious with a dishwasher. I hadn’t seen a dishwasher in months at that point. The concept of not having to wash my own dishes made me giddy inside. That giddy feeling increased when I saw an en-suite stackable laundry situation in a decent sized closet. No more loading ten dollars every few weeks onto a laundry card. No more ferrying my clothes back and forth six floors down via elevator. Everything was right here. To make matters even better, they allowed cats. Despite my lack of a cat, I dreamed for the day that I could acquire one and not be completely alone in my bedroom-less square. 
I was thrilled with the place and seeing the suite in person made it all the more real and exciting. I had filled out some forms online, proof that I had an income, proof that I qualified for low income housing, general apartment applicant things. The low income form made me laugh because to qualify for it, I would have had to make thirty-five to fifty-five thousand dollars yearly. Given I made only fifteen thousand last year I figured there was no chance they would deny me. What I failed to understand, and what the fellow showing me the apartment had to explain, was that I needed to fall within that window of annual income. Not below as I had been. Even though I had told him that the apartment was only thirty more dollars than I was already paying and that I had money saved up, there was nothing he could do. I was too poor to be poor enough for a low income bachelor suite. This guy even had the audacity to tell me that if I could rack up thirteen hundred dollars a month, the regular price for a bachelor, then maybe something could be arranged. He basically told me that since I was too poor for the low income assistance, maybe I can pay the price of a regular commoner and not like the peasant I was. 
I was crushed. I felt had by BC Housing, the government, the new apartment building, and the guy standing in front of me. I was so irked that I looked up the kind of people that made that sort of income when I got home and you know what I found? Teachers make that sort of money! People that went to school for years to educate fools five days a week. People that would definitely not be applying for a bachelor suite. That sort of annual income belongs to those that are working a bunch, probably making a life for themselves, mayhaps wanting to raise a family, or just someone who would most certainly find a better place to live for way cheaper. Thirteen hundred dollars is an insulting demand for a single room. Not a one bedroom, just a room. To advertise being partnered with a low income housing program that only works for people working jobs that pay them at least twenty-two dollars per hour is a sham. It is a slap in the face to anyone who would actually be looking for a bedroom-less suite given those are generally the folk that make very little money. This whole thing grinded my gears so much because I didn’t even originally want to move. I just saw a chance, thought it was serendipitous, and went for it. I left my comfort zone, got up the courage to better my life, and was mocked by the universe for it. You know what though, bugger it, I have thirty extra dollars a month that doesn’t go to rent which means I have more extra money to spend on other things, which means imma have enough savings to buy my land and cabin all the sooner. 
Feck off Ross Terrace, I don’t need you anyway.

​