The 99

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I have never been one of “the 99.” 

 

Okay, wait, hold on. Yes, indeed, I am part of the ninety-nine percent of this country– you know, the part that DOESN’T bathe in money each night. ;) I’ve just never been at all bitter about it. The thing is, I’m rather a big fan of capitalism. I believe in the American dream and I don’t begrudge those who have gazillions of dollars their money. I just don’t. I’m okay if you have other feelings on that, but that’s the deal with me.

 

I’ve never been bitter about being the ninety-nine…

 

Until I played Monopoly with my seven-year-old.

 

For several nights (because you all know Monopoly is the most never-ending game of all time, right?), my husband, son, and I would gather around the coffee table after the younger girls were tucked in. And we’d play.

 

From the start, A’s luck was uncanny. While I consistently landed myself in jail and, thus, never even passed “Go” nor bought property, he sailed around the board, collecting his salary and scarfing up new places. Though my husband didn’t suffer my incarceration plight, he did manage to land on “Pay Income Tax” every single time around the board and, as a result, never could accumulate any cash.

 

That was all well and good and we got a good chuckle over it.

 

The laughter kept up when our now-rich seven-year-old got all the Free Parking money. We even smiled over the fact that, while I would have to pay each player $50 when I hit Community Chest, he would always emerge with “Bank Error in Your Favor!”

 

Still, hubby and I raised brows at one another as our little guy grew more and more wealthy and we struggled just to make it to “pay day” (that is, if I didn’t wind up in jail.)

 

I joked that, clearly, A. was “the one percent” in this scenario. Ha ha ha…

 

But then it happened.

 

A. landed on Virginia Ave.

 

“Who owns Virginia?” he asked.

“You do,” I replied.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m the one handing out the properties. And, besides, you own just about everything.”

“Yeah, but… I don’t see it. I’m not sure I own that one.”

“Look again. It’s probably just tucked under something…”

(shuffle, shuffle, shift, shift)

“Oh! There it is! I didn’t see it because it was buried under all my money!”

 

Ah, yes. You forgot you owned a property because you couldn’t find it under all your heaps of cash.

 

And, with that, I became the bitter 99.

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