Infinite Cashback System

Chapter 263: 263 | Victim Mentality is a Luxury

"But it is." Eliza sat back in her chair, which pulled her chest away from the table and made it slightly easier for Jordan to focus on the conversation. "We all have the same twenty-four hours in a day. We all have the same opportunities to choose how we spend our time. Some people work hard and make it. Some people make excuses and don’t. That’s not the system’s fault. That’s individual choice."

"The same twenty-four hours." Jordan repeated the phrase back to her. "You really believe that."

"Yes."

"Okay. Walk me through your twenty-four hours."

Eliza’s brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Yesterday. What did you do with your twenty-four hours?"

She considered the question. "I woke up around eight. Went to the gym with my roommate. Had breakfast at the dining hall. Went to class. Studied in the afternoon. Watched Netflix. Did some reading for this debate. Went to bed around midnight."

"And how did you pay for the gym membership?"

"My parents put it on their card."

"The dining hall?"

"It’s included in my meal plan. Which my parents pay for."

"Your apartment?"

"My parents."

"The Netflix subscription?"

Eliza’s jaw tightened. "I see where you’re going with this."

"Do you? Because you just described twenty-four hours that were subsidized by generational wealth. You didn’t work a job yesterday. You didn’t have to choose between buying groceries or paying your electric bill. You didn’t have to skip the gym because you were pulling a double shift at a restaurant where customers stiff you on tips because they think eighteen percent is too generous."

"That’s not fair." Eliza’s voice had an edge to it now. The practiced softness was gone. "My parents worked hard to give me these opportunities. That’s the whole point. They succeeded so I could have a better starting position."

"Exactly." Jordan leaned forward slightly. "You have a better starting position. Which means the race isn’t fair. Which means someone born into poverty doesn’t have the same twenty-four hours you do, because their twenty-four hours include obstacles you’ve never had to face."

"But they can overcome those obstacles. That’s what makes the American Dream powerful. It’s not about having it easy. It’s about working hard enough to overcome whatever challenges you face."

"Statistically, most people born into poverty stay in poverty. Most people born into wealth stay wealthy. Social mobility in America has been declining for decades. We’re now behind most European countries in terms of how likely a child is to out-earn their parents."

Eliza’s cheeks had flushed pink. Not from embarrassment this time. From genuine emotion. Her eyes were bright with something that looked almost like anger.

"So you think poor people should just give up?"

"I think we should stop pretending the system is fair when it obviously isn’t. I think we should acknowledge that hard work alone isn’t enough when the deck is stacked against certain groups from birth. I think telling people they failed because they didn’t work hard enough is a convenient lie that lets wealthy people feel good about their success while ignoring the advantages they were born with."

"That’s such a victim mentality."

"It’s not victim mentality to acknowledge reality."

"It is when you use reality as an excuse not to try."

They stared at each other across the table.

Jordan realized his heart was beating faster than it should have been. Not from attraction. Not from the memory of what Eliza had put him through. From the argument itself. From the genuine clash of ideas happening between them.

This was the first real conversation he’d ever had with Eliza Hartwell.

In two months of dating, twelve dinners, forty-five hundred dollars, and countless hours of his life, they’d never actually talked about anything that mattered. Jordan had been too busy trying to please her. Eliza had been too busy looking at her phone. They’d existed in the same space without ever actually connecting.

Now, arguing about economic policy in a library study room, Jordan felt like he was seeing the real person behind the calculated smiles and strategic outfit choices.

"We grew up rich." Jordan said the words simply. No judgment in his voice. Just fact. "You and me. Our parents had money. We went to good schools. We had tutors when we struggled. We had safety nets when we failed. We had connections when we needed jobs. We have never known what it feels like to be truly desperate."

Eliza’s flush deepened.

"That doesn’t mean we don’t work hard."

"No. It doesn’t. But it means our hard work pays off more than it would for someone starting from zero. A dollar invested early compounds into more money than a dollar invested late. We got our dollars early. Other people are still trying to pay off the debt they took on just to reach the starting line."

"You’re making a lot of assumptions about my life."

"Am I wrong?"

Eliza opened her mouth to respond. Closed it. Opened it again.

"No," she admitted finally. "You’re not wrong. About my background, at least. But that doesn’t mean the American Dream is dead. It just means some people have further to climb."

"And some people never make it no matter how hard they climb. And we tell them it’s their fault for not climbing hard enough. And we use the rare success stories to justify a system that fails the majority of people who play by its rules."

The study room fell silent.

Through the glass panel in the door, Jordan could see students walking past in the hallway. Normal college students with normal problems. Stressing about exams. Worrying about grades. Completely unaware of the miniature economic philosophy debate happening behind the glass.

Eliza exhaled slowly. The tension in her shoulders released by a fraction.

"You know what’s frustrating?" Her voice had lost the edge. What remained sounded almost vulnerable. "I came in here ready to argue for the position I actually believe in. I thought this would be easy. I’d just say what I really think, and you’d nod along like you always used to."

Jordan said nothing.

"But you’re actually pushing back. You have actual arguments. You’re making me think about things I don’t usually think about." Eliza laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Where was this version of you when we were close?"