Pearls Mean Money

So, this morning I had a job interview. I decided to wake up early and really put forth an effort to prepare. I even washed, ironed and hung my clothes on the closet door last night so that I would be stress free this morning. Everything went well. I was running early, I was wearing makeup, I smelled like a girl. I wore all black with my pink trench coat. I then raised my collar like a lady and added...pearls. Now, bear in mind I don't actually own any pearls, they are really just beads that look like pearls, I don't even particularly like pearls...but nontheless. I smiled and thought, "Good Job Brookie...you look sharp."
I don't often look sharp...I usually look like a cranky fourteen year old. At the most I sometimes look "nice" so I was pretty proud of myself.
The interview went fine, and I didn't get lost on my way back to the train which made me feel proud. I was riding high. As I approached the corner of Chicago and Michigan I noticed a man asking each passerby for spare change. Nothing unusual about that. These people don't make me nervous in the slightest since I am asked for change about 15 times a day. I don't give change out since I would be homeless myself if I did. I used to have this theory that since I shouldn't be smoking in the first place I would give a cigarette to people who asked, until I was swarmed like a flock of pigeons under the Belmont stop a few years ago. I always give my leftovers away to anyone who may ask when I'm leaving a restaurant though.
Anyway, as each person walked by this man today he repeated the monotone "got a quarter?" "spare a quarter?" until I walked past. The man looked at me and yelled, "Hey! Got a Twenty?" I looked at him, somewhat surprised and somewhat amused, and then shook my head no. As I continued to walk I heard him yell, "RICH BITCH" after me.
Let's dissect this.
First, even if I were loaded...I don't know that the way I would decide to give back to the community would be through handing out twenties on the street to every person who asked.
Second, RICH!! I almost exploded into laughter. I desperately wanted to turn back to him and say, "No...I havn't had a twenty in weeks. I've been rationing my groceries...do YOU by any chance have a twenty? Because I could REALLY use it." But instead I walked on and tried to understand what on earth gave him the impression that I was rich.
THEN.
I went to McDonalds. I know, ew. But you see, a few weeks ago I won REALLY big on the monopoly...McNopoly?...I won a free order of fries. I decided in my brokeness that today would be a good time to redeem this coupon and claim my delicious winnings. As I sat down alone to devour my fries...(that's the best way to eat fries, alone...beating yourself up the entire time and then digging around in the bottom of the box to make sure you didn't miss any) I noticed a rowdy table next to me. I'm not being judgy, but it was clear that they ate lunch together at this McDonalds on a daily or perhaps bi-daily basis. They were having a good time though and eating their fries with wild abandon as opposed to with chubby-girl-shame so I got a kick out of them. Until I noticed one of the girls motioning toward me to her friend. I then overheard her say, "We gotta get us a rich girl like that for our best friend...make her take us shopping every day!"
Let's dissect.
First, even if I was loaded..which I am clearly not...since I was eating COUPON FRENCH FRIES...why on earth would I suddenly become best friends with the downtown McDonalds regulars and TAKE THEM SHOPPING? EVERY DAY! I suppose once I got bored of passing out twenty dollar bills I would say to myself, "Hm, what next? I know! New wardrobes for all fast food customers!"
Second, RICH!!! What the F? Now I really had to think about things. I thought about my outfit...
1. Black "leather" loafers from Target...$19 (paid for by mom) that I also have in brown because they were the only non-sneaker non-flip flop shoes that are comfortable for work. I lovingly/hatefully refer to them as my "Workboots".
2. Gray socks that I counted on no one seeing and noticing they didn't match due to my...
3. Long black pants. These are the same black pants I have had for two years and wear to EVERYTHING. They are faded and from the Gap. They might have cost, at the most, $50 at the time which I only paid because I knew I would have them for a few years and wear them to everything.
4. Oldest black button down shirt in history...Old Navy...2002. Paid for with love by mom as part of a "You got your first job out of college let's buy you a new work wardrobe" shopping extravaganza. (The "I have a new job I need a new wardrobe" trick died soon after.)
5. Pink trench like coat from Target. $20.

So what exactly was it that was making me such a "Rich Bitch" to everyone. I thought long and hard while shoveling more salty frenchy goodness into my mouth.
It was the "pearls". Of course. Pearls are so wholesome and conservative. They don't yell rich as in "glamorous movie star" they yell rich as in "my daddy owns the country club and I'm having an affair with the poolboy." Or...rich bitch.
They arn't even pearls. They are beads that look like pearls. I bought them as a birthday present for myself from Urban Outfitters. They are meant to be funky and ironic, but you know...I'm straightedge and square so I wear them for real.
Pearls. How could all of these people be judging me simply on my pearls? I mean, Rich Bitches eat salad and Evian at bistros for lunch don't they? They don't eat McDonalds.
Still bewildered by the unintentional practical joke I seemed to have played on the lower class residency of Chicago (of which I am secretly a part) I got on the train (using my last handful of quarters) and pondered this issue.
All of a sudden a girl about my age sat down across from me. She was very tall and very slender. Her legs went to the moon and she had a fabulous coat on that I coveted. Her hair was perfect, her clothes looked expensive, blah blah perfect perfect bleh. She smiled at the man next to her and then proceeded to open a familar looking bag and SCARF DOWN AN ENTIRE BOX OF CHICKEN NUGGETS. I instantly hated her even more. "Look at me eating my mcnuggets all willy nilly! It's so crazy, I can just eat and eat and never gain weight. It makes no difference that I'm stinking up the train with my nugget carnage, it's just the REDLINE anyway. I'm beautiful and perfect, just try to pass judgement on my nugget attack! I dare you!"
So without initially recognizing the irony my first thought was this...
"Hope those nuggets catch up to your ass one day, Rich Bitch."