I need some new living room drapes and, truth be told, one of those oversized round ottomans with the little tufted buttons, preferably in a celery color to coordinate with the new drapes. All told, I need about $1,800 to make these two things happen.
I’m sure we can all agree that simply strokin’ a check on my own would be, frankly, a drag, because that’s a lotta dough and I could spend that on more practical things like paying off my Visa and whatnot.
So allow me to “crowd-fund” this request. Give it a “kick-start” as it were. I mean, why not? Why should crowd-funding belong to the 20-somethings?
I was thinking about all this when I realized that I’d been asked no fewer than three times last week to help kick-start a younger person’s hopes-and-dreams fund. One was for a gay prom (love it); another was for helicopter school (less love, but whatever) and a third was for a friend’s friend who wanted to go on safari.
Never miss a local story.
At the risk of going all Grandpa Jones on you, let me remind you that it took me 57.5 years to get my dream trip to Paris last year, and I did it the old-fashioned way – waiting for a relative with some money to finally die.
Kidding! I did it the old-fashioned way – saving up by putting any extra bucks into an account labeled “For Paris.”
So old-school, right?
So here’s the thing. I’ve supported plenty of these kick-starter causes along the way because many of them are incredibly worthy. Others? They kind of stretch the bounds and make me think some of y’all are just lazy.
Yeah. I said it out loud.
You want to snowboard at Banff? Good for you. GET A JOB.
You want to go to culinary school? See Banff snowboarding above.
I get that your parents have finally learned to say “no” (and then only after privately kick-starting that ill-fated turn at embalming school), but that doesn’t mean the rest of us want to back you, because, to tell the truth, you’re not a great investment.
Oh, I know this sounds harsh. And I know that just because you ask me to fund your backpacking odyssey through the Pacific Northwest (where I have NEVER BEEN), it doesn’t mean I have to say “yes.” There is no contract, implied or otherwise. It’s completely up to those of us who are being hit up to give or not give.
But I still feel a smidgen of guilt. I shouldn’t. Because if I did kick in some bucks, you wouldn’t even bring me back a Space Needle snow globe. You know I’m right.
Here’s the thing: If you have to ask near-strangers to pay for the Tahitian honeymoon of your dreams, you need to go to Six Flags. I hear it’s lovely this time of year.