Money always gets reaction.
Not because people worship it.
Because they earn it.
And when the math stops making sense, people feel it long before they can explain it.
Let’s not talk macro.
Let’s talk kitchen table.
Property taxes.
You open the envelope and it’s up again.
No new school.
No new fire station.
No gold-plated sidewalks.
Just “reassessment.”
Market values rise — so your tax rises.
Market values fall — funny how the tax rarely follows as quickly.
You’re told it’s formula-driven.
You’re told it’s necessary.
You’re told it’s routine.
But routine doesn’t mean reasonable.
Insurance.
Homeowners up double digits.
Auto premiums up.
Umbrella policies adjusted.
You didn’t file a claim.
Doesn’t matter.
“It’s regional.”
“It’s risk-based.”
“It’s industry-wide.”
Industry-wide always seems to mean household-narrow.
Grocery bills.
Same store.
Same cart.
Same brand loyalty.
But the total creeps higher every month.
Chicken up.
Beef up.
Eggs ridiculous.
Coffee shrinking.
Cereal boxes lighter.
You’re told inflation is cooling.
Cooling where?
Not in aisle seven.
Then the slow bleed.
Streaming services — price adjustment.
Music app — new tier.
Cloud storage — exceeded your limit.
Security monitoring — upgraded automatically.
Software — annual renewal at a “loyalty rate.”
Loyalty used to earn you a discount.
Now it earns you a silent increase.
Subscription creep is the new property tax.
Small enough to ignore individually.
Heavy enough to hurt collectively.
You look at your monthly statement and wonder when life turned into a bundle of auto-drafts.
And here’s where the gaslight comes in.
If you question it, you’re told:
“The economy is strong.”
“Unemployment is low.”
“Wages are up.”
“Consumer confidence is improving.”
Confidence doesn’t pay escrow.
GDP doesn’t cover groceries.
The middle class doesn’t live in economic theory.
It lives in monthly arithmetic.
Mortgage.
Utilities.
Insurance.
Food.
Fuel.
School activities.
Repairs.
Medical co-pays.
You’re not asking for luxury.
You’re asking for stability.
You’re asking that when prices go up 15–20%, someone explain it plainly.
You’re asking that the same house, the same coverage, the same cart not cost dramatically more year after year without a clear improvement in return.
Instead, you get tone.
“Everyone’s adjusting.”
“This is normal.”
“This is temporary.”
Temporary has been running for years.
Here’s what makes it feel personal.
The middle class is the most dependable payer in the system.
You don’t riot.
You don’t default easily.
You don’t qualify for relief.
You don’t get headlines.
You absorb.
You tighten.
You cut discretionary spending.
You skip upgrades.
You postpone travel.
You push retirement back a year.
Then another.
And when you say it feels like you’re being leaned on, you’re told you’re overreacting.
That’s the insult.
Not the increases.
The dismissal.
You’re not misreading your bank statement.
You’re not imagining escrow spikes.
You’re not hallucinating insurance renewals.
You’re watching effort stretch thinner.
Money represents time.
When time feels devalued, people get uneasy.
You work the same hours.
You show up the same way.
But your margin narrows.
And margin is what gives people breathing room.
Without margin, stress rises.
Without margin, arguments increase.
Without margin, small problems feel bigger.
This isn’t about macroeconomics.
It’s about pressure.
Household pressure.
The kind that doesn’t show up in national averages.
The kind that shows up in tension at the table.
The middle class doesn’t need a bailout.
It needs predictability.
It needs transparency.
It needs honesty.
If property taxes are rising because of specific spending, say it clearly.
If insurance is rising because of actuarial changes, show the numbers plainly.
If food costs are permanently higher, stop pretending they’ll snap back next quarter.
People can handle hard truth.
They resent fog.
And fog is what feels like gaslighting.
When you’re told everything is strong while your margin shrinks, trust erodes.
Trust is the real currency.
Once that thins, behavior changes.
People downsize.
People cancel.
People shop differently.
People save differently.
People vote differently.
Not loudly.
Quietly.
The middle class doesn’t explode.
It recalculates.
And recalculation is more powerful than outrage.
Money always gets reaction.
Not because people are greedy.
Because money measures effort.
And when effort buys less year after year, people notice.
They may not trend.
They may not march.
But they adjust.
And when enough households adjust at the same time, the system feels it.
You can spin data.
You can polish reports.
You can cite averages.
But you can’t spin a grocery receipt.
You can’t spin a tax bill.
You can’t spin an insurance renewal.
The middle class isn’t asleep.
It’s doing math.
And math eventually wins.
micvicfaust@intelligent-people.org
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