Entitlement- written imperfectly

I strolled down memory lane last night. Having a social event I attended with people from my past, and as I encountered and hobnobbed with the variety of "players" in the game of life I once knew- I reflected upon the essence of entitlement. 

Over twenty years of working in business and sales, I learned that the single mom's I hired, were the hardest working. Willing to give it all and leave it on the table. 

It was those who worked for "fun," as a hobby, for "extra money," or way to "get out of the house" that were the most unreliable. They were also the quickest to take credit for another persons work and effort. 

I recently encountered this in my current business too. So I reflected and pondered. I process the wisp of bitterness I feel about it. 

How can I have compassion? Grace? Forgiveness? Dignity? 

Who do I choose to be? 

I realize that if you've never faced the storm- and had to captain the ship you travel on; responsible fully for your own life, the food, shelter, clothing, furniture, car, gas, and toilet paper in your life; let alone your own children's- then how could you possibly understand the value of the effort and work it takes to to do so? 

How shallow is it to sit on the sidelines and think it's easy or that other people's efforts are so simply transferable?

But, these people have gifted me the opportunities in my life to hold strong boundaries. To say "no" when they take and take and take.

To walk away when they claim achievements they didn't earn. Metaphorically holding trophies on pedestals for races they didn't run in. 

And in the end, I can have compassion for them. Because they don't even know they are afraid. They don't know the effort and raw determination it takes to stand strong and navigate the storms of pure survival- let alone thriving; and because of that- every trophy they hold is tarnished. 

Every time they slip on designer shoes that were a gift, or stand and look at themselves in the mirror; they don't know if they are capable enough. And as they look around to the life that they live- on the dime and dollar and effort of someone else- they know deep down that it's not theirs. Deep down, they don't know if they have the tenacity and talents to get it. Perhaps that's why they try to steal it? Deep down, they will never know if they are strong and they are afraid they are not. Ironically, they need the trophy on the mantle more than the one who earned it. The one who earned it- knows who they are and what they are- no trophies needed. The entitled ones? They will never know if they can rise up to meet  the challenge of life on their own merit and muster. 

When I looked at the woman last night who entered the event wearing snake skin high heeled boots and designer coat- on the arm of her "financer" aka husband. Whose only claim to the money in her life is marrying a man who makes it. Whose only claim to success is to be the wife of someone who is successful. I wondered what it would be like to be her. 

What would it be like to have the time to primp and style your wardrobe, hair, nails, and lashes? What would it be like to spend days tidying a house, fluffing pillows, and decorating? What is it like to have the luxury to pamper yourself, spouse, and family? 

What is it like to never know whether or not the quality of lifestyle you live is something you could achieve for yourself? What is it like to not understand the finances and drive it takes to create the luxuries you've become accustomed to? What is it like to think that because you said "yes" to a man who is successful- that that is some kind of achievement in itself?