Sonya Bateson: Living within your means is more difficult if you're poor

The chances of winning Powerball are around 1 in 38 million, but when you're in the grips of poverty, even the most minute chance to escape feels like a risk worth taking, writes Sonya Bateson. Photo / Getty Images

OPINION

Life-changing moments in movies are marked by dreary, drizzly weather, the wind whipping the hair of the main protagonist as she ponders the direction her life has travelled.

As she sits, arms huddled around herself as if expecting a blow, a look of revelation crosses her face.

A ray of sunlight breaks through the clouds and highlights the dawning smile upon the weary face. She walks off into the horizon as the clouds disappear, jubilant music rising in the background until it drowns out all else.

Of course, real life is vastly different from the movies.

There I was, about two months into my new semester of study. No wind whipped my hair around, no clouds suited my dreary mood.

The bright autumn sunlight mocked me as I held my head in my hands, wondering what the hell I was going to do.

I was living on the breadline. My income of $225 a fortnight covered my $100 per week rent and not much more. I got by, with much complaining.

But this week was going to be different.

My pay cheque was due that afternoon and I needed to pay for a $15 prescription.
How was I going to make $10 stretch two weeks?

Maybe the celestial video cameras were panning over me as I, prodded by some unknown urge, wandered inside, turned on my roommate's computer and logged into my online banking.

The screen loaded. And there, in my account sat a little over $100.
Cue the victorious trumpets. It was an autumn miracle.

Thank you, mysterious bureaucratic payment.

The possibilities were endless. What should I do with the money?

The first thing I did was get into my poor, neglected car, drive it to the closest petrol station, and fill the tank right to the top.

My little Honda was on its low fuel light so it took close to $60 to fill (a fortune at the time). More than half my windfall gone already, within minutes.

But that $40 or so was burning a hole in my metaphorical pocket.

What if the money was given to me in error? I'd better spend it before they had a chance to take it back.

To the supermarket I went.

I bought things I couldn't usually afford. A packet of bacon. Some vegetables and soup mix. A block of chocolate. Some of the nice peanut butter. Just-add-water scone mix.

My impulse purchases came to around $30. Enough to leave a little bit in my account for emergencies.

I remember walking out of that checkout on a high, carrying my plastic bag of luxury.

Then I saw it.

The sign on the wall.

$12 million Powerball this Saturday. Dun dun dun dun.

It felt like a sign.

Now, I'm not a complete idiot. I used to work in a Lotto shop, I knew full well that the chances of winning Powerball are around 1 in 38 million.

But when you're in the grips of poverty, even the most minute chance to escape feels like a risk worth taking. What if?

Walking away with that little yellow ticket in my wallet, I felt a surge of shame. Live within your means. Spend your money wisely, save for a rainy day.

I'd gone and blown $100 in less than an hour, a month's worth of regular spending for me.

But you know what? Those impulsive purchases gave me some happiness. I had variety in my diet, I was able to drive home and visit my family, and I had the minutest of miniscule chances of becoming a multi-millionaire.

Yes, I was back to living on the breadline almost immediately – but that wouldn't have changed even if I had banked that money.

It was never going to improve my circumstances measurably.

Or, as a quote I read in the Atlantic says: "There's a certain pull to live what bits of life you can while there's money in your pocket, because no matter how responsible you are, you will be broke in three days anyway".

Is it any wonder then that Lotto stores, as Lotto chief executive Chris Lyman admitted to Radio New Zealand this week, are more highly concentrated in poorer areas?

So much so that the organisation is going to close some down.

Documents released to RNZ under the Official Information Act show Lotto knew for some time that it was causing harm by having too many stores in poor areas.

If that sounds familiar, it could be because similar trends have been observed with fast food outlets and alcohol stores. How many such outlets are in the rich and poor areas of your city?

That's no accident.

If there hadn't been a Lotto stall in that supermarket all those years ago, I wouldn't have bought a ticket.

I probably would have bought a burger. There was a takeaway right next door.

Sonya Bateson is a writer, reader, and crafter raising her family in Tauranga. She is a Millennial who enjoys eating avocado on toast, drinking lattes and defying stereotypes. As a sceptic, she reserves the right to change her mind when presented with new evidence.