The Story of a Hustler in the Unmaking: Before I got my first “middle class” job, my income was $0 (it might have been negative even) but life seemed good. Even though I couldn’t afford no bling, I was a bad ass getting spoiled by the ladies left and right. Yes they paid my rent, they bought me food, they even bought me clothes. Life as a pimp was good. Everyone wanted my attention, and they were willing to pay to get it. But as any good flick goes there’s a flipside to this coin of a story.

I didn’t have a job. The only work I did was in the bed. And I’m telling you how it is. It was fun but it wasn’t easy fo sheezy. There were times when I couldn’t afford nada. If one honey found out about another they would get all mad and jealous and stop buying me stuff! (Hey now!) This started happening once too often, and when a pimp’s juice starts to run out it’s all down hill. I had to face the facts my game had gotten messed up by all the drama. With my reserves in despair I had to “man it up” as a former friend of mine used to say. I had to take matters into my own hands.

I set out to find a job. Yes, me, as you know desperate times call for desperate measures. I posted and submitted my “resume” wherever I could. Sadly, it got no love. I started tapping with a temp agency, and got a job through them though I quit when the psycho manager decided it was ok to rain her ignorance down on me (I’m convinced she was in on messing my game up lol). Since I don’t put up with no crap, I let her have it, figuratively speaking.

If angels were not watching over me I dunno what happened. A fo sheezy job fell right out of the sky. I was so nonchalant about it though, I’m not sure how I got it, I don’t recall even wearing a tie to the interview. Who cares! I started making BizANK straight from the stank!

By anyone’s standards I was poor. BUT NOT ANYMORE!

Poor pimp + money = spend.

And spend I did, buying all sorts of bling and crap I know I didn’t need. Anything I thought I could afford I bought. Why? Because before, I was a broke ass ho; I had to play catch up.

–Catch up because people I knew who didn’t have jobs, or hadn’t gone to school, or didn’t have any investments were driving descent cars, wearing ghetto fab clothes, and pretty much doing whatever they damn well pleased. “I had that life before the life of a hustler, that’s the one I want” I used to think.

Even on my $80k salary I had a hard time scraping buy. My friends and peers were all balling out of control, but I soon realized, they ain’t making no honest money, this is hard work! Ultimately I came to the conclusion that either:

A. They were wannabe thugs whose parents paid for everything.

or

B. They were street pharmacists.

Afterall, these are 20-something year-old’s we’re talking about.

I was content to think that I had done it all on my own. Everything that I bought was paid for by my own honest working hands! So yeah, it’s nice being an honest baller FOR ONCE.

There was a whole slew of things I had to learn and fix.

My credit score had long been buried in the ground. (My credit score has since then pulled a Jesus, but that’s another issue entirely!)

Being above the hustle feels good. I miss being a pimp sometimes haha, but that’s who I was and not who I am. This after all, is a story of a hustler in the unmaking.

Submitted to the #87 Carnival of Personal Finance