The Recession from the Underground: A New Perspective

For nearly two years now, the economic recession has been foremost on the minds of most Americans. There isn't a soul who hasn't been affected by it, and CNN, MSNBC, and Fox News alike continue to devote most of their days to discussing it. Nearly fifteen million Americans are unemployed, making the jobless rate 9.7 percent - well above the predicted 9.4 percent, thus all conversations seem to be related it, and no longer is it polite to ask a friend, "How's work?" But the recession has affected more than just the newly jobless - its influence has been felt by all classes and castes, from the neighborhood millionaire to the can-shaking vagabond. So, why don't we ever hear about the plight of these other walks of life? This desperate-for-a-story freelance writer was determined to find out.

While stories of job losses and credit crunches have dominated the media, little to no attention has been paid to those Americans who have had no job to lose, and who had never been given any credit. I'm talking about squatters and thieves, those members of our society whose presence we often wish to ignore. What happens to these individuals when the economy buckles and falls? To find out, I visited with a gentleman known only as "Slum Dawg Ka-jillionaire," who had just been brought to a local prison for a criminal credit card offense. Mr. Ka-jillionire had agreed to sit with me and discuss how the economic recession has been felt in the underground, and what his people are doing to hang on.

"At first it was really good," Mr. Ka-jillionaire told me. "They was enough for everyone underground, because the people over ground couldn't afford none of it!" Mr. Kajillionaire explained that as the housing bubble began to show signs of a bust, more homeowners were forced to leave vacant homes as their houses remained unsold and on the market month after month. Squatters learned to take advantage of this, and left broken-down urban buildings for abandoned suburban homes. "It was getting more and more fancy-like for the squatters," Ka-jillionaire explained. Houses of greater and greater value were put up for sale or were being foreclosed on. Squatters began to take refuge in so-called "McMansions" and elite neighborhoods, causing a tremendous shift in their underground culture.

"They got greedy, though," says Ka-jillionaire. "The squatters, they don't just stay in one place. Always got to get better than the other guy, you know." It seems that the culture of the squatters turned into a culture of posessions, as materialistic showiness began to dominate their determination to find bigger and better places to squat. As the mortgage crisis crossed over to affect commericial real estate, the squatters found themselves in giant office buildings with endless panes of glass and flights upon flights of stairs. "Really sad," Ka-jillionaire reflects. "They gone mad with stress." Encumbered by the stress of office life, the squatters find themselves lost amongst the endless rows of empty cubicles, and the buildup of stress gives way to irregular heart beat and hallucinations. "Worse part of it is," says Ka-jillionaire, "all they's looking for is the bathroom."

I asked Mr. Ka-jillionaire to explain to me how he'd come to be locked up this time, and he laughed and shook his head. "Your readers won't never believe it," he joked, "but I was just doing my job." Mr. Ka-jillionaire is a self-proclaimed thief and "other people's treasure hunter", and has a reputation for being un-catchable. "In all my life," he says, "I stole cars, I stole TVs, I stole computers, but I never got caught." But this time was different. In an attempt to break into a home in an upscale neighborhood, Ka-jillionaire was met by the sheriff and his men, who were visiting the house to enforce a foreclosure. Ka-jillionaire escaped with only the (former) homeowner's purse and Blackberry. Ka-jillionaire then attempted to hi-jack a car, but after evicting the driver from the vehicle he found that he was nearly out of gas, so he was forced to push the car to the nearest gas station. Unable to afford the high gas prices himself, Ka-jillionaire dug into the purse he'd stolen in search of some cash. He found none. Instead, he pulled out a stack of credit cards and began to swipe. Ka-jillionaire swiped card after card, and was met with "Declined" notices and "Insufficient Funds" warnings. Fearing that the police might once again catch up with him, Ka-jillionaire took off on foot for his home, stopping only at a local drug store to drop a quarter in the "Free Bernie Madoff" can, a show of support for a close personal friend and colleague. Ka-jillionaire evaded police for three days, but found that his association to his newly-acquired Blackberry slammed him with enormous bills for off-peak minutes, and a monthly charge of a hundred fifty dollars for service. That connection was further troubled when he began to be hounded by creditors and collections agencies, asking if he would like to "negotiate a payoff," at the same time other creditors were calling, offering him a "great deal and low APR." The phone rang continuously for three days. Lack of sleep wore on Mr. Ka-jillionaire, and at the end of the third day he turned himself in to authorities. "Now I'm straight," says Ka-jillionaire. "They never going to foreclose on a prison!"'

I asked Slum Dawg Ka-jillionaire what he plans to do when he leaves prison, and he said, "I don't know. Competition's getting tight." The glory days of thieves and squatters are behind us now; they're being replaced by bored and unemployed cyber-criminals and identity-thieves, who have a habit of taking up lodging in the basements of the elderly, usually the criminal's parents. With resources like this at the disposal of the competition, traditional thieves like Ka-jillionaire are finding it hard to make a dishonest living.  Even drug dealing has grown increasingly difficult, Ka-jillionaire explains.  "Ever since Michael Jackson died, everybody's asking for Demerol.  Now where am I supposed to get my hands on a IV?"  But Ka-jillionaire is not discouraged. "I sure do hope that job market turns around by the time I get out," he says. "I guess I've got to get me a job." I asked what sort of job Ka-jillionaire might pursue at the end of his prison time, and again he laughed. "The only thing I'm qualified to do, of course," he said. "I'm going to be a CEO."