At Least

The Tenement Museum, Orchard St, New York

A few years ago, I moved into a brand new condo on a sweltering August 1st.  When I arrived with all my stuff, my landlord told me that the A/C wouldn't be ready for another month.  Surprise!  I lost my mind.  You would think I was being told I'd be without running water for a month.  I called the long suffering BF at work and started crying.  That night, we combed the city in search of cheap fans. I yelled at my landlord to knock some money off my rent.  It was a tiny condo with not too many opening windows, and that place was humid bordering on fetid for the month.  It was a nightmare.  Well, compared to my usual environment of perfectly comfortable.   In retrospect, I am aware that I did overreact.  Yes, I was sweatier than I cared to be for the hottest month of the year, but come on.  This was a prime example of what the nauseating but sort-of-right-on hashtag First World Problems describes.

The thing is, can you legitimately complain about anything when you have an exceedingly comfortable life?  I do often hear a little voice in my head, when I am having a George Kostanza moment and acting like the world is coming to an end when the slightest thing goes wrong.  The voice says "yeah, at least the Taliban isn't picking your clothes out for you," or something like that. It's the fucked up way my brain tells me to settle down and put things in perspective.

I have a friend who had minor (but invasive) surgery a while ago, and she was sort of put off when another friend said something along the lines of "At least you're not dying", she thought it minimized her pain.  I'm sure that wasn't the intention, but it gets to the heart of the issue- if you live in one of the best places on earth, and have all the comforts, are you allowed to complain about anything?  Ever?

I think that when something goes wrong in your life, it's your problem.  Just because it doesn't register with the United Nations Commission on Human Rights or something, doesn't make it nothing.  On the other hand, imagine someone moving here from Darfur and listening to me bitch about my broken air conditioning.  I am sure they'd want to punch me in the throat. And they should!

I visited the Tenement Museum in New York this winter- it was the most affecting museum visit I have ever made.  We did the Irish Outsiders tour, and by the end, I was choking back tears. The tour made it easy to imagine life for the people who lived in the squalid building- there was very little comfort to be had.  Temperature, smell, workload, food- things I rarely if ever worry about- what passed for "good enough" was whatever they could get.  I think of those tenement dwellers, or the first settlers in Canada, when I'm getting ready to complain about needing a cardigan in the office because the A/C is blasting.  I know two things for sure- I am lucky to have the comfort I do, and good God, what a shitty pioneer I would have made.