Yesterday I was driving from Pensacola back to our place in Alabama. In the back of the truck, we were carrying a bed, a dresser, and a couple of boxes from our apartment in Pensacola, FL. My partner recently lost his job in Pensacola and we’re moving everything back. We’re fine. We have a little cash put back. We don’t have any debt. Thanks for thinking about us.
On the way to Alabama I noticed a cardboard sign outside a modest but nice farmhouse. Scrawled in black marker on the sign was “Work Wanted”. That’s it. I’ve driven this route plenty of times. It hasn’t been there before.
This house was no McMansion. It was well kept. Piled in the field by the house were rolls of hay, judiciously covered with tarp. These people are no slackers. Yet for some reason the home owners felt they could not afford to spend any money on a plastic sign from Walmart to advertise their services. They couldn’t afford to paint a piece of plywood. All they felt they could do is put a piece of cardboard on a stake. “Work Wanted” —exactly the sort of sign you see alcoholics and panhandlers carrying at intersections. It put me in mind of the Great Depression. Are things really that bad now?