Alright, pull up a chair and pour yourself something strong, ’cause old Jack Hammer’s got another dispatch from the front lines of your shrinking wallet.
The suits on the TV, the ones with the slick hair and the even slicker numbers, they’re all grinning from ear to ear. They’re rattling off statistics about “record growth” and “robust markets,” talking about an “economic boom” like it’s a new miracle cure for what ails you. They say the numbers are up, the charts are soaring, and everything’s peachy keen.
But down here, on the pavement, where the rubber meets the road and folks are still trying to figure out how to stretch a buck, all I hear is the collective groan of empty pockets.
They tell you inflation’s under control, a “transitory” little hiccup, nothing to worry your pretty little head about. But try telling that to the grocery bill that looks like a ransom note. Try explaining it to your landlord, who just slapped another hundred on your rent. Try figuring out how your pay stub, which hasn’t seen a real jump since the last century, is supposed to keep pace with the price of gas that looks like liquid gold.
This “boom” they’re so proud of? It’s a selective kind of prosperity. It’s the kind where the stock market acts like a trampoline for the billionaires, sending their fortunes higher and higher, while your bank account just sits there, looking like a flat tire. The big corporations are raking in record profits, boasting about their “lean operations” – which, in plain English, means they’re squeezing every last drop out of their workers while charging you more for the same old goods.
They’re building skyscrapers of wealth, alright. But they’re building them on foundations of your stagnant wages and your rising bills. It’s like being invited to a feast where you do all the cooking and dishwashing, but only get to sniff the leftovers.
Don’t let the glossy headlines fool you. Don’t let the polished pronouncements numb your senses. The “economic boom” for them is just another way of saying “the squeeze is on” for the rest of us. The game’s rigged, always has been, and while they’re popping champagne corks, you’re just trying to figure out how to afford a decent cup of joe.
Keep your eyes open, and your hand on your wallet. This city’s full of con artists, and some of the biggest ones wear suits.
Yours truly, Jack Hammer.
