A Poverty Simulation

Last week, I experienced a poverty simulation, hosted at Steelcase and put on by Access of West Michigan. A group of around 50 Steelcase employees, local medical residents, and interested community members had their eyes opened by this deeply impactful encounter.

We each were assigned a new identity for the simulation. I took on the persona of Yuri Yarrow (I went out a limb and bestowed upon Yuri a simply majestic Russian accent), a 75-year-old man with a chronic lung condition and an inability to walk long distances. My wife Yomelda and I survive on a monthly Social Security stipend of $726. With that, we must pay for bus fare, our mortgage, groceries, and anything else we might need.

The month-long simulation was broken up into four 15-minute weeks. We were assigned various tasks to be completed during certain weeks, to make the simulation as realistic as possible. For instance, Yomelda and I both had doctor’s appointments, her for her diabetes and me for my chronic lung condition, during week 2. That meant, during week 1, we needed to be sure to buy enough bus fare to last us the entire month, as our poor health prevented us from walking places. The planning and strategizing required to satisfy all of these necessities on such a tight budget was stressful enough – and this was only a simulation.

Week 1 started out fine enough. I headed to the bank to cash our Social Security check, where despite not having an account, I was able to thanks to a loan we had apparently taken out the month prior. I returned home with our $726 (minus paying back the loan) to give to Yomelda, who used our last bus pass to head across town to buy more bus passes. She was able to squeak in a trip to buy groceries before the whistle blew signifying the end of week 1.

Week 2 would be a wake-up call. It started normally; we split up our meager pile of dollars and bus tickets and headed out to complete our weekly tasks. After Yomelda bought the groceries for the week (skimping on them for the first time, thanks to our hefty mortgage and utility payments due that week), she met me at the health clinic for our appointments. Keeping in character, several wistful references to Mother Russia may have been uttered.

The nurse ran through our lengthy list of ailments and prescribed the necessary treatments, periodic blood glucose level tests for Yomelda and an ER trip for me if my lungs start acting up. The ER --welcome to life on Medicare and a fixed income. Without Medicare, however, there is absolutely no way we would have survived the month with enough money for even the barest necessities. (The simulation certainly put a different spin on the seemingly constant debates over the social safety net and entitlement programs.)

To add insult to injury, we returned home to find most of our possessions had been stolen, including a television, cell phone, jewelry, and furniture. Even with our free medicine and various senior discounts prolonging our financial solvency, there’s no way we could afford to replace any of them. A police officer roamed the room during the simulation, but, true to form, she seemed unwilling to provide much assistance.

Weeks 3 and 4 played out similarly. A trip to the food pantry netted a three day supply of food to supplement our dwindling grocery budget. I can only hope Yuri and Yomelda have a community center or bingo hall within walking distance, because they certainly have no money for entertainment. With their phone and computer gone as well, their options for social interaction and stimuli seem bleak.

This impactful simulation was just that - a simulation. It's hard to imagine living your life full-time in such a way, but that is the sad reality for tens of millions of Americans. After the 'month-long' simulation, some of the administrators from Access shared some of their personal stories and experiences with poverty. One woman spoke of a divorce and a failed business and before she knew it, she and her kids were homeless and slipping into a cycle of depression and substance abuse.

Poverty truly can happen to anyone, and in trying economic times, it's not as uncommon or as far away as you might think -- a reality which makes organizations like Access and the awareness they bring all the more important.