More rants from the minds of fictional people – Benefit Street

 Bolshy, moody and downright badtempered Valerie Anthrope gives her opinion on the current TV show Benefit Street.
Amazon
I watched Benefit Street last night, and my
God, I wanted to reach into the TV screen and slap every one of those lazy,
good-for-nothings. How dare they think they have a right to our precious welfare
system, built to provide for the needy NOT the lazy.


There was one woman (she ate her way through her dole cheque judging by
her size) who believed she was the spokeswoman for the entire street and wouldn’t
let anyone else get a word in. She seemed to think that what she received in
handouts wasn’t enough because she was forced—yeah right—to go to soup kitchens
just to eat. Did I mention she was fat? That’s some soup!

And then there was this guy
whose ‘job’ was scrounging for more money on the streets (to top up his
benefits) from the hard-working. 

Another stole for a living to
feed his six kids. He said he can’t work because he needs to help his wife look
after the sprogs, on the plus side it’s a two-parent family. Think he was a rarity on that street.

And all those people, well the
majority anyway had mobile phones, flatscreen TV, they smoked and managed to
sink several pints in the pub on a daily basis! That’s not struggling on the
welfare system that’s bloody taking the piss!

Work-shy scrougers the lot of them. – Valerie Anthrope from Oh no,
I’ve Fallen in Love!

Now for the turn of gullible but thinks-she’s-smart Charlotte (Charlie) Wallis

There was a heart-breaking programme on the box last night. About people living
on welfare, or trying to. Obviously, it isn’t enough money for the poor sods
because the majority are forced to steal just to eat! 
One guy has six children
to feed and the money he’s given isn’t enough for them. Just because he’s on
benefits doesn’t mean his kids are! The children shouldn’t have to suffer.
Where is their support, eh? 

A lady, White Dee, I think
her name was, was the street’s backbone. An intelligent voice among the demoralised.


The programme was a little bit of a circus for the working smug, which I don’t think was the intention, or at least I hope not, becuase once you’re on
the downward slope of being without a job, with no prospects and live amongst others
like yourself you become discouraged and eventually probably depressed. 

And I should know. I’ve been there. Luckily, I had a friend to pull me back up else I’d probably still be in the gutter. But what do these people have? 

Diddley squat, that’s what. There
needs to be more out there for people who are battling with unemployment. More
help and more money. – Charlie Wallis from A Proper Charlie.

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Rants from the minds of fictional people @mayatylerauthor

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Greed and the Financial State of America
by
Robin “Junior” Brown

It isn’t
enough to have a job and a place to live these days. Now you have to
make six figures and live in a palace to even get girls to look at you
twice. I know I’m nothing special to look at; I’m just that funny guy. I
probably get the ‘let’s be friends’ speech more than most, but if they
gave me a second chance, they might be pleasantly surprised. I have a
lot to offer a girl. I’m more than my dad’s second-in-command at work.
Although I may not even be that anymore. It’s a long story. Do you have
time to listen?
It all
started in 2008 with that lousy financial crisis. I was working at my
dad’s insurance company so my job wasn’t at risk when the economy
belly-flopped, but I lost a ton of money on the stock market when the
DOW cratered. I had borrowed a lot on margin to cover my lifestyle.
After the crash, I had to take out a second mortgage on my condo and it
was getting harder to make the payments. I started borrowing ‘advances’
from my pay cheques. I was paying the company back. At first. But the
paltry amounts I was able to borrow weren’t enough. My credit was maxed
and I still had a pile of bills. 
Amazon



I found a company online who specialized in the kinds of cash-flow problems I was having. No questions asked. Sure, it seemed shady, but I couldn’t let my dad find out about the ‘borrowing’. And when Cynthia started working with us, I wasn’t in charge of the accounts anymore. That cut further access to the money. I had to pay it all back before she was on to me.

I tried to be nice to her. I mean, she was sweet to look at, and it was fun to flirt with her. I thought she might be sympathetic toward me. Might throw me an extra bone, er client, if you know what I mean. But not Miss High and Mighty. She played things strictly by the book. I entered a made-up client on the books, borrowed the funds I needed to pay back the company from the online guys, and paid the company back. I’m good with computers; it was a cinch to fix things at work.

But I still had to pay back the online guys. There was no way I could manage to make the full payments. I floated along for the next couple of years, throwing them enough to keep them at bay. They held the title to my condo and were starting to pressure me to give them access to the company accounts.

I had no other choice. I took out another loan and went to the casino. I made good at the tables. I paid off all my creditors.

The feeling of winning was intoxicating. It made up for all the times I was overlooked by the ladies, my dad. I was someone when I was winning. The girls in their tight, sparkling dresses looked at me like I was hot when the chips were rolling my way. I liked it. I craved it. Instead of making a mortgage payment one month, I went back to the casino. Instead of winning, I lost. Big.

It was 2012 and I was sinking in debt again. I was in big with the online guys and I finally had to put something heavier on the line. I gave them access to the company’s accounts. They started creating false claims and taking money from the coffers. I had to cover for them at work. I was good at it and no one was suspicious. But it made me feel sick inside to steal from my own dad, rob my future. I told them I wouldn’t do it anymore. They gave me a beating. I told my dad I had the flu and stayed home all week until the swelling in my eye went down. And I shut my mouth.

Until now. I was sick of the situation I had landed myself in. I had the proof to put these guys away. Sure, I would be incriminating myself in the process. I dreaded the thought of seeing my dad’s disappointment. But it had to be better than the sick feeling I had in the pit of my stomach. I had the proof and I should’ve gone straight to the police, but I didn’t.

They held me hostage in my own place while they searched the office, both in the computer files and the hard copies, for my evidence. I thought I was a goner that they were actually going to kill me.

What did I do it all for? To keep up with the so-called Jones’? And it didn’t even pay off. I’m stuck with community service and gambling counseling. I’ll be lucky if my dad keeps me on and forget my condo. I’m renting a death-trap in Washington Park. It’s over for me. How can I possibly recover from this?

We live our lives on credit, the whole damn economy is built on the ‘buy today, pay tomorrow’ philosophy. We never think about tomorrow, never think about payback time. Well, I’ll tell you this, payback is a bitch.

You’ve heard from the character, now read the book:

DREAM HUNTER

Who said dreams are
sweet?
Chicago businesswoman
Cynthia Courtland is focused on her career when a sensual,
reoccurring dream disrupts her life.
 
 A threat in the workplace forces her to take time off work. Without her career, she feels lost. So Cynthia turns dectective and investigates.


Work is Gabe’s life too and unbeknown to Cynithia she is his work and it’s one he takes seriously. But with Cynitha
investigating, it makes Gabe’s job all
the more difficult.

Meanwhile, will Cynthia give her dreams a chance to come true?

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