The Onlies

Or: On Living on a Pension

This is new to some of us.

So a reminder: Beware: It’s the Onlies that’ll bust ya!

You get paid once a month when you live on a fixed income. You budget. After all, you remember Welfare Wednesdays, when you saw welfare recipients blow ninety per cent of their meager income on groceries, booze and I-just-gotta-have-it items.

So you pay your bills first. Always pay the bills first. That’s Rule No. One.
Then you do your monthly grocery shopping. You’ve been in the store for an hour and a half picking and choosing the best deals with the most food that will stretch the farthest for the least price. Brand names are out. But now you’re tired and starving and starting to look at things that will break the budget.

You make your way past the in-store cafeteria.

“Let’s have a cup of coffee,” you suggest.

Your partner agrees. She adds, “Your blood sugar is low, you’d better have one of your ‘pick-me-ups.’ ”

You look at her. “It’s only a dollar ninety-five,” she says. You have a coffee and a pick-me-up each.

Later in the week, you’re on a walk-about. You find a deal in the used book store, three books for a dollar. Well, it’s only a dollar, and you go for it. You search on but you can’t persuade yourself you need to spend $24.95 on a new shirt. You resolve to check the thrift shops. Its mid-afternoon and you had only a light lunch at home. But you’re feeling nibbly. You eye the chocolate bars. “Oh,” you say, “they’re only $1.25 each.” You each have one. Now you have the energy to go home and cook supper.

Back home you discover you’ve run out of paper and you need to print out several important letters, like the pleading one to the tax department. You can get a package of 500 sheets for $7.95. “Well, it’s only two days since pay day,” you tell your partner. “We’re flush.” So it’s down to the store you go. While you’re there, you spot a CD-marking pen. You’ve been looking for one of those since your old one dried up. And it’s only $2.37.

Life goes on and you run out of milk. You’re also short on bread. It’s astonishing how quickly you got through those supplies. “Well,” she says, “milk is only a few dollars. Surely we can stretch that far for essentials.”

The sights and smells at the mall prompt you to look at your watch. It’s mid-afternoon, tea time. On the way to the food counters, your wife spots a special. “Oh look!” she says, tugging your sleeve, “just what Judy needs. And we really need to get started on our Christmas shopping. We don’t want to have to ‘break the budget’ in December.” How well she knows you. “Fine,” you say, feeling drained of all energy for lack of food.

You get to the food counter. You eye the doughnuts. “Quick energy fix,” you sigh. But you decide to be practical and have lunch. After all, it will save on supper, and you can both eat for only ten bucks.

You get home and your son shows up. “Can you lend me ten bucks? I need it for my gym membership.” You say, “I don’t know, the budget is pretty tight.” “Oh come on Dad,” he says, “it’s only ten bucks.” And you have a twinge of conscience. “Come on then,” you say, and you all pile in the car and head for the ATM because you practically never have cash in your pocket. “I’ll only take out $20,” you tell yourself.

The ATM is beside the grocery super store and your partner browses while you extract some actual cash. “Oh, look!” she enthuses, “sweet peas.” Well, you know sweet peas are one of her favourite flowers, and you did buy paper, and that pen. “Oh, what the heck,” you say, “They’re only $2.98 each.” She gives you those moon eyes—by way of thanks?—so you say, “Oh, what the heck. You’d better have three, or four. After all, one hardly makes a show. Besides, I’ll need some coins for the parking meter later.”

“Hey Dad,” says your son, “I’m hungry.” So you buy him an energy bar. It only cost $2.79.

That evening it’s off to the hospital to visit your brother with the broken hip. You grumble about parking fees at the hospital. At emergency, even, for heaven’s sakes. The meter-machines ask for $1.50 per hour. You swear. “Oh come on,” your partner says, it’s only a dollar and a half.” You feed the greedy thing. But you overstay your visit and dash back down to feed the greedy meter again. Oh well, it’s only $1.50. It could be worse.

Next thing you know, you have a doctor’s appointment. He orders blood tests. You go to the clinic, no brekky. “We only need five vials this time,” the nurse with the needle says. You make a joke, “You vampires are going to drain me in the end.” And the nurse with the needle says, “In the end, someone will have to.” They serve no coffee and no cookies. So you make your way to the cafeteria. It’s only $1.50 per coffee and only $1.75 for a muffin. You each have one of each. “Good thing the kid didn’t have to give blood too,” you quip.

From there, you have to spend the day in Chilliwack, handing out leaflets for your cousin’s business. (Why did you volunteer? At least the wife enjoys such work.) You get an hour off for lunch. So it’s another meal out. “We’ll go to Zellers,” she says, knowing the strained look on my face isn’t from loss of blood. By the time you get home, nobody feels like cooking, so you (reluctantly) order in. “It’s only $15.95,” the delivery person tells you. “Oh, go on,” your wife says, “give him a tip.” “Sorry,” you shrug sheepishly, “I only have a toonie.” The delivery person takes it.

And so it goes.

Oops! You run out of pills. Back to the doc for a prescription renewal and off to the drug store. Have to wait. Browse the store. Come onto the computer area. “No,” she says. “Oh but,” you say, “The kid has been telling us he needs a CD case.” “Oh yes,” she says. “Well, we have been badgering him about cleaning up—” “Oh, go on then, if you think we can afford it.” “Well,” you say, “it’s only—” “Oh buy the darn thing,” she says. The total showing on the till is bigger than the price. “GST,” the clerk tells your incredulous face. “Well,” she stutters as your expression fails to change, “it’s only 7%.”

You hop in the car to go home, feeling strangely depressed. Something on the dashboard flashes. It’s the little gas pump. Darn! You are all but out of gas. Around the corner you go, to the real gas pump. Only twenty dollars later, you arrive home.

So a few days later, when you’re halfway rested, you decide to check your bank balance. You know you’ve been worried.

Suddenly you’re tired again. You are overdrawn, by $150. And that is at 17.9 per cent, per annum. And it’s only a week and a half into the month.

Signed,

Your Friendly Local Neighbourhood Cheapskate,

NOTE: Well, it’s the old “Watch the pennies and the dollars will take care of themselves”, motto. Well, yeah! They sure do. Bye-bye dollars. I watched them go. Perhaps this is “Penny wise, pound foolish”. Anyway, pass it along to the young in your life. If you count every penny, and keep track of it, you’re not being miserly; you’re being wiser-ly. You’ll know where the onlies have gone—and the dollars with them. After all, it’s the onlies that make up the dollars. And, as you see, they count up faster than a kid counting to 100 for hide and seek. And make sure the kids in your life know that pennies don’t come from heaven, nursery songs notwithstanding. They have to be earned. They count up. They are precious, and very beautiful. Besides, they’re patriotic. Look at those lovely maple leaves on the reverse. And our lovely queen on the obverse. So, make it your duty. Stand on guard for the Onlies!

--Bryce the Third.