Bankrupt
I've been dealing with bankruptcy quite a bit lately. Not mine. For my job. It entails that I occasionally go to bankruptcy proceedings to listen in, take notes, see what's going on in particular cases. They are never fun, like other types of hearings can be on occasion. But they certainly can be entertaining, in a weird way.
The other day, I was sitting there, listening to a case in which these people are trying to declare bankruptcy under Chapter 7. I think. Not that I really know the difference between 7 and 13. But I could look it up. I just don't care enough.
Anyway, so these people. They'd been married for a long time. Had a college-aged child. She's teaching. He's working as a construction project manager. They've already gone through Chapter 13. Now trying 7. Or vice versa. Whatever. The magistrate is going through their monthly bills, talking to them about their exemptions and whatnot.
"What is this payment to North Catholic?" I 've changed the name of the school, to protect the midline imbecilic.
"Tuition." They reply, in unison. They had developed a cadance to their responses to the magistrate, an almost sing-song response to his myriad questions about their lives, jobs, children and activities. It was like watching a cobra hypnotise two small, twitchy rodents.
"Well, I don't know if that's going to count."
I could see the terror on their faces. She's teaching at a Catholic school. They have more kids than lived with the old woman in a shoe. Clearly, religion is important to them. And that's an entirely different topic than the one I'm on today.
"I think you're going to have to send your kids to public school," the magistrate said.
You would have thought he had just told them that he had spit in their soup. She was barely restraining herself from leaping over the table and scratching his eyes out with her Lee Press-On Nail talons.
"Okay, okay," their attorney muttered. "We'll discuss that later." Anything to placate the masses.
I, of course, got a kick out of the entire scene. I'm a big public school supporter. Granted, I also know the value of living in a good school district. I'm thinking that these folks aren't living in the inner city and aren't living in fear that their kids will get shanked while waiting for the bus to school in the morning, much less what the SAT scores are at their local public school. But, obviously, their choice of educational opportunities for their kids was important. Important enough to spend money on while going bankrupt.
I thought about things I buy every month, or every couple of months, that, technically, I could live without but choose to buy. And those things I'd like to pay every month, but can't bring myself to do. What could I cut?
I could cut cable. I could do it, if absolutely necessary. I would hate it. Absolutely hate it. But I could do it. I'd spend every minute of the day at someone else's house, but I could do it.
I could stop coloring my hair. But I would be very, very unhappy. And possibly scary.
I could stop buying clothes that are dry-clean only. I could read the labels more before I buy. I could not buy clothes for a while. But, really, where's the joy in that?
I could go for bargain brands for the following: toilet paper, kleenex, tampons, toothpaste, deoderant, diet soda, crackers, cheese, ketchup and peanut butter. Maybe not the kleenex. Or the peanut butter.
And things that I would love to have that I can't justify? Computers, satellite radio, more cable, manicures and pedicures from someone other than myself, carpet cleaning. God, the list is endless. A maid. I'd kill or die for a maid.
But, looking at these lists, my items are all about personal comfort. Luxury items, really, rather than things you have to have. Heat. Water. Electricity. Taxes. Education. Those people are, apparently, willing to sacrifice quite a bit in order to get their kids into Catholic school. While they are financially bankrupt, they could just as easily find me bankrupt in other, more substantial, ways.
Clearly, they'd be wrong. But they could think it.
The other day, I was sitting there, listening to a case in which these people are trying to declare bankruptcy under Chapter 7. I think. Not that I really know the difference between 7 and 13. But I could look it up. I just don't care enough.
Anyway, so these people. They'd been married for a long time. Had a college-aged child. She's teaching. He's working as a construction project manager. They've already gone through Chapter 13. Now trying 7. Or vice versa. Whatever. The magistrate is going through their monthly bills, talking to them about their exemptions and whatnot.
"What is this payment to North Catholic?" I 've changed the name of the school, to protect the midline imbecilic.
"Tuition." They reply, in unison. They had developed a cadance to their responses to the magistrate, an almost sing-song response to his myriad questions about their lives, jobs, children and activities. It was like watching a cobra hypnotise two small, twitchy rodents.
"Well, I don't know if that's going to count."
I could see the terror on their faces. She's teaching at a Catholic school. They have more kids than lived with the old woman in a shoe. Clearly, religion is important to them. And that's an entirely different topic than the one I'm on today.
"I think you're going to have to send your kids to public school," the magistrate said.
You would have thought he had just told them that he had spit in their soup. She was barely restraining herself from leaping over the table and scratching his eyes out with her Lee Press-On Nail talons.
"Okay, okay," their attorney muttered. "We'll discuss that later." Anything to placate the masses.
I, of course, got a kick out of the entire scene. I'm a big public school supporter. Granted, I also know the value of living in a good school district. I'm thinking that these folks aren't living in the inner city and aren't living in fear that their kids will get shanked while waiting for the bus to school in the morning, much less what the SAT scores are at their local public school. But, obviously, their choice of educational opportunities for their kids was important. Important enough to spend money on while going bankrupt.
I thought about things I buy every month, or every couple of months, that, technically, I could live without but choose to buy. And those things I'd like to pay every month, but can't bring myself to do. What could I cut?
I could cut cable. I could do it, if absolutely necessary. I would hate it. Absolutely hate it. But I could do it. I'd spend every minute of the day at someone else's house, but I could do it.
I could stop coloring my hair. But I would be very, very unhappy. And possibly scary.
I could stop buying clothes that are dry-clean only. I could read the labels more before I buy. I could not buy clothes for a while. But, really, where's the joy in that?
I could go for bargain brands for the following: toilet paper, kleenex, tampons, toothpaste, deoderant, diet soda, crackers, cheese, ketchup and peanut butter. Maybe not the kleenex. Or the peanut butter.
And things that I would love to have that I can't justify? Computers, satellite radio, more cable, manicures and pedicures from someone other than myself, carpet cleaning. God, the list is endless. A maid. I'd kill or die for a maid.
But, looking at these lists, my items are all about personal comfort. Luxury items, really, rather than things you have to have. Heat. Water. Electricity. Taxes. Education. Those people are, apparently, willing to sacrifice quite a bit in order to get their kids into Catholic school. While they are financially bankrupt, they could just as easily find me bankrupt in other, more substantial, ways.
Clearly, they'd be wrong. But they could think it.
posted by Miss Head at
9:24 AM
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