Easy come easy go.
A profound irony I suppose.
My Dad knew poverty having grown up on a Reservation. So did the black colleague having grown up on the mean streets of a large city. The third colleague did not, having grown up in a wealthy New York suburb and graduated from an ivy league college.
So when a homeless panhandler asks them for money, only one of the three reaches into his pocket. Guess which one.
The ivy leaguer turns to my Dad and the black colleague and remarks "I feel compelled to help those people out because there, except for the grace of God, go I."
The black colleague looks at him and says "I grew up around these people. If you gave him everything you had, including the clothes on your back, he might even thank you and he might even enjoy them for a few days. But the first time he felt he needed another drink, he would trade them off. He wouldn't change places with you long term if you made him such an offer."