On the scarcity mindset
To save or not to save; to choose or not to choose - that is the question
EXCITING NEWS: An essay I wrote for Catapult is now up! I pitched this story to the editors several months back and was elated when they accepted it. I’m so glad it’s published now. Please do check it out…and if you like it, please share with your friends!
As a kid growing up in Vietnam, I didn’t get a lot of things.
I didn’t get birthday parties where all of my classmates were invited. I didn’t get actual birthday presents on my birthday. In fact, the only times I got a “present” was during Chinese New Year, or Tet, as we call it—little red envelopes filled with money, money that I would immediately spend on candy (what can I say? I had a terrible sweet tooth).
I didn’t have a mother who stayed at home while my father went to work. In fact, my parents switched roles—my mom went to work and my dad sort of…hung out. I didn’t have a sister (but I really wanted one). Instead, I have two older brothers. I didn’t get a lot of toys. Actually, I didn’t get any toys. What I played with was so simple that it made my husband chuckle when I told him about it—chopsticks and marbles. (Yes, you can definitely invent a fun game out of that one!)
I didn’t live in fancy house on a clean, paved road in a suburb or city. Instead, I lived off a dirt road in a small village. Several blocks down the street was my grandparents’ house. To get to their house, I’d have to cross a busy road (also dirt filled, not much in the way of pavement back then), go past the church, and turn right. To get to my elementary school, I’d go the opposite way up the hill. Again, more dirt roads. Cows were common grazers along the road. They milled about, minding their own business usually. As kids, we often played along the dirt roads, next to the cows.
I didn’t go on yearly vacations, not even to Ho Chi Minh City. There was a river not too far from my village, but we never went there. I stayed at home a lot. My family had a medium sized structure with a front gate and some guava trees and cactus in the front. There were a lot of geckos and lizards who hung out. We also had dogs and chickens, but we didn’t raise them to be eaten. They were simply pets. Our neighbors had a pig farm, so there was always a lot of noise, especially the oinking of the pigs and the crowing of the roosters every morning.
None of this bothered me at all. Because to me, what I did have as a girl growing up in poor village in southern Vietnam was more than enough to make up for it.
I had a father who loved me dearly, a mother who worked hard to provide for us. My parents considered me a miracle child—no joke—and showered me with love and “gifts” in the form of Sunday school, bright poufy dresses with all the frills and all the fancy shoes (which I wasn’t always comfortable in), lots of attention and encouragement to do well in school, and bragged about everything I did, even when I did practically nothing.
In short, they gave me whatever I wanted. I can safely say that my parents spoiled me not just because I was adamant about what I wanted, but also because I was the youngest and the only girl. I never felt lonely about my position in life because I was surrounded by so many other girls my age, and kids in general.
All week, I’ve been thinking about the idea of scarcity. One, because I’ve been knee deep revising an article recently published on Catapult about food scarcity, and two, because I had a realization after I went to the grocery store with my mom this past weekend. To top it off, I read some really fascinating writing from people I like on the internet, slightly different topics but in the end, when I really thought about it, I realized that it all circled back to the same thing: we don’t want what we don’t know.
I came to the conclusion that there are two types of scarcity. One is based on awareness and the other is based on choice. The former has to do with what we (currently) lack and the latter has to do with what we (currently) want.
First, let me tell you a story about my mom.
On a recent Saturday afternoon, I took my mom out grocery shopping with my kids. And I was reminded of the scarcity mindset as she hustled hard to make sure she could use the $17 coupon that she received from the store the last time we were there. It’s called Double Up Food Bucks, a dollar for dollar matching program through the state of Oregon for SNAP recipients where you can purchase fruits and vegetables on your next trip using a coupon. As we perused the store, I could tell that she wanted to buy more things, but after we made our way through the produce section, she promptly announced that she was done.
We then proceeded to the cash register, where she made sure that it was someone who knew how to enter this kind of coupon because the store doesn’t usually do coupons. When the cashier told her that the coupon was for $17 and she’s only spent $13, so unless she used the entire amount, they couldn’t refund her the difference in cash. She chose to use the whole amount and was quite excited by this.
To be honest, I couldn’t feel it. In fact, I was a bit irritated. That’s because on our way to the store, she kept going on and on and on about the coupon. “Mom!” I wanted to shout. “Just buy whatever you want. You have the money!”
No, my mom will not buy whatever she wants, even if she has the money. And so I offered to buy her some frozen vegetables because it’s easier to cook. She refused. She does the same thing every time I offer to buy her anything.
Look, I get it. When she was around my age, things were hard. Really, really hard. Harder than you can possibly imagine. She had to make a life out of practically nothing. She lost a lot, but she’s still here.
The idea of survival came in different forms as generations move up the ladder. It used to be that in order to move up, you keep your head down, work hard, and just “take it,”—whatever “it” means. Criticisms. Questions. Harassment. Long hours. Overtime. Whatever it meant, it was all for the following generation, so they wouldn’t have to suffer.
Nowadays, we have a lot of choices. In fact, we are living in a paradox of choice right now. From what to watch on Netflix to what to major in college, it’s overwhelming how many options there are. It used to be that the choice wasn’t there, but now it is.
My mom’s generation—the Baby Boomers—didn’t have as many options. It was tough, especially if you came of age in Vietnam like she did. She was young when the Vietnam War happened, and for twenty years, that was all she knew. Then certain harrowing events occurred in her life that forced her more into survival mode. She had very little and therefore, could not enjoy the wonderful things that life had to offer. She survived, but the scarcity mindset never left her.
In the Aesop’s fable about the grasshopper and the ant, she would be the ant, squirreling away little by little, saving for winter.
It used to be that prior generations—like my mom’s—had to figure out ways to survive because there was a lack of things. It has to do with how to feed your family, how to save money for a rainy day, how to weather another catastrophic event. Living a life with purpose and meaning—as in the “Have your cake and eat it too,” sentiment was not a choice for people of my mom’s generation, like it is for mine.
I can understand then, why she feels the urge to keep bits and pieces of my kids’ Happy Meals, why she reuses old Coffeemate containers as sugar containers and pickled leek jars as spice jars, why she keeps the plastic produce bags she gets at the grocery store, why she hasn’t bought new bedspreads in years, why she refuses to spend money on brand name items and instead, go for generic. I can understand all of that, because I’m looking at it from both perspectives—the perspective of someone who has a choice looking at someone who didn’t.
In today’s world, there’s so much talk about what we want but not enough about what we lack. But what if having less is actually a good thing? What if not having something means that you can build your life around the things that you do have control over, that you are actually capable of doing? The foods you actually want to eat. The cars you should actually drive. The job that are better suited for your skills. The friends who will actually be there for you.
The author Mari Andrew said it best in this post, “When you’re used to the options not being there, they don’t bother you.” Furthermore, she adds, “A human life isn't a streaming platform; there are only so many options.” Scarcity may in fact, be a good thing after all.
In case you missed it…
Question of the week:
Do you think that the scarcity mindset is necessary or dangerous to have? Why or why not? Reply and let me know!
First congratulations for your published article in Catapult. Second thank for this amazing post, I really appreciate how you can be content even in the midst of scarcity, it is a lesson that we all can learn. It is sad that living in the USA one of the richest countries in the world most people are unhappy because they are not content.
I really love this piece and the one published in Catapult, Hoang (Congratulations!!!). You definitely have material for a memoir or novel--or a wealth of stories for many blog posts (or all of the above!). The resilience of your mother in feeding her family, the symbolism of yams, and the scarcity mindset--all struck chords with me. My parents, grandparents and aunts carried the lessons they learned during World War II with them when they immigrated to this country. Even as they prospered, they saved, refusing to spend even when they had the money, never threw out leftovers, darned holes in socks rather than buy new ones and so on. I've inherited some of that mindset too and even passed it on to my son. So I can relate. Very nice writing too!