"Nobody’s listening": 5 things Americans told me about the economy that Washington needs to hear

From Cleveland to the Outer Banks, the cost-of-living crisis that will decide the midterms, in the words of the people living it.

Every incumbent on the ballot this fall, Republican or Democrat, is running on a set of numbers. Unemployment at 4.2%. Record household income. Inflation “cooling.” The five things I learned over six months of kitchen tables explain why those numbers aren’t landing.

I spent the better part of a year trying to answer one question: Why do Americans feel this bad about an economy that, on paper, is this good? Some 74% of Americans rate the economy as poor, not far off the 84% who said the same in 2009, when the country was shedding jobs by the hundreds of thousands.

People who handed me, a stranger, their bank statements because nobody else was asking aren’t going to be won over by a mailer. “Cooling” inflation sounds like an insult to people whose rent doubled and stayed doubled. When a family is one ordinary bill from the edge, its backup plan is sleeping in the car. People who spent years blaming themselves have started blaming the people in charge. Parents and grandparents are wondering if their children will get to stay in the places they built.

This is an electorate that is angry and unconvinced its vote changes anything. In the closest races in the country, it may not matter which candidate has the better plan. It may matter which one people finally believe was listening.

I built the spreadsheets first. I’m a numbers guy, and I won’t apologize for it. But the spreadsheets didn’t explain it. More than four dozen people across six episodes did, though, at their own kitchen tables, usually with their bills spread out in front of us.

Here are the five things they taught me that no top-line number will.

When Washington says inflation is cooling, it means prices are rising more slowly. It doesn’t mean anything got cheaper. That distinction sounds like economist hair-splitting. At the kitchen table, it’s everything.

Jolene Simecek’s rent in Cleveland went “from $785 to nearly $1,600” for the same apartment in the space of seven years. “When I file my taxes,” she told me, “my income is definitely not doubled.”

In Tampa, Phebie White’s rent climbed from $850 to $1,250 while her Social Security check sat still. “Your bills are going to go up,” she said, “but your Social Security is not going to go up.” Annual adjustments, known as COLAs, have not kept pace with rising expenses in recent years.

Prices are up 6.8% since December 2024. Average hourly pay is up 5.9%. That gap is the whole story in two numbers, and it’s why “the economy is improving” lands like an insult.

A 20-something in Atlanta, Kay Jones, summed up her friends’ finances for me in four words: “We’re in a recession.” By every official measure, we’re not. She wasn’t describing a definition. She was describing a feeling, and that feeling is what shows up in the polls.

No single catastrophe wiped out the people I met. It was the grind: housing, insurance, food, childcare, electricity, all of it climbing, none of it optional. That left them one surprise away from crisis: a $70 tire, a $400 vet bill, an $1,100 utility bill due Monday, a dead battery in a snowstorm.

What I wasn’t prepared for was how many of them had already, quietly, worked out what came next. And how often the answer was the car.

Phebie keeps her car insurance paid before almost anything else. “Just in case I need to sleep in it,” she told me, “and I pray that that never happens.” I asked her to explain. She said she knows plenty of people who already do, and “you won’t know that they’re sleeping in their car until they tell you.”

At a free clinic in Tampa, I sat down next to a 64-year-old cancer survivor named Elen Trosino, and when I asked how long she’d been living in her car, she said, “Uh, like a week now.”

In Rocky Mount, North Carolina, Sheila Scarborough, a veteran on a fixed income, slept in hers most nights for seven weeks this summer after the city cut her power. On the Outer Banks, a tour guide named Stu Laird lived in his truck until the battery died in a January storm and he ended up with frostbite, three hospital stays and a broken hip.

They differ in age, race, region and politics. Every one of them landed on the same contingency plan, alone. I’ve covered this stuff for nearly two decades, and I can’t find that safety net in any government data series. For millions of Americans, it’s a depreciating asset with a back seat.

This one still gets under my skin.

In every city, people facing forces that took decades to build – predatory lending, a childcare market that runs on poverty wages, a state that refused to expand Medicaid, a war that sent diesel past $6 – looked at the damage and assumed they were the problem.

“I didn’t make the right decisions,” Jolene told me. Phebie said if her generation had known better, they would have done better. Corey Goodhue, an Iowa corn and soybean farmer staring at his over-budget diesel line, told me, “Either I did it wrong or inflation got me. The buck has to stop at this desk.” A Tampa woman who spent 35 years getting other people onto food stamps and Medicaid, now uninsured herself, said, “I can counsel anybody, I can’t counsel myself.”

I’d smile at first, because it sounded absurd and I assumed each was delivering a knowing quip. Then I’d realize how much they meant it, and, to be candid, I’d get pissed. When a system breaks quietly enough, the people it breaks blame themselves.

But self-blame doesn’t stay self-blame forever. Jolene said it best near the end of our conversation: “I’m kind of questioning why more people aren’t mad.” They are now. More than three-quarters of Americans say they’re dissatisfied or angry about the direction of the country, and 37% call themselves flat-out angry.

The anxiety I heard wasn’t only about this month’s bills. It was about who gets to stay.

Greg and Audrey Dunn paid $114,000 in daycare in a single year for three kids in suburban Boston. “Even if we wanted a fourth kid,” Greg said, “we could never afford a fourth.”

On the Outer Banks, business owner Chris Marik buys houses just to keep his staff and figures his three daughters will probably never be able to live where they grew up. “If I play by the rules, pay my taxes and do this, it should work out,” he said. “On paper, it’s never gonna work out.”

In Atlanta, Mayra Martinez watched her immigrant parents get priced out of the neighborhood they helped build. They “lost two homes,” she said: the country they left, and the community they made here. In Iowa, a young farmer explained that under current tax rules, it makes more sense for an older relative to die holding the land than to sell it to him.

And Jolene, who never had generational wealth to inherit, is determined that her son will. “If I’m having trouble and struggling at 42,” she asked me, “how do I expect my gonna-be-18-year-old to get a place?”

That’s why voters under 35 are among the most pessimistic in the country: 84% rate the economy poorly. It isn’t a mood. It’s math about their own futures.

As I sat at kitchen tables and personal offices walking line-by-line through childcare invoices, utility bills and budget spreadsheets, I often caught myself marveling at the willingness of so many to be so transparent about their personal financial pressure points and struggles. Part of it, I came to believe, was that nobody else had asked.

Sheila said it outright. “They’re not listening,” she told me. “We are trying, as citizens, trying to tell you what’s going on, but nobody’s listening.” When I asked Phebie whether policymakers understand what she’s going through, she said one word, “No.” Then: “Because they don’t have the struggle.” And when the campaign calls came while Sheila’s power was off, she had a message for them: “Until you help get my lights on, don’t ask me about voting for nobody.”

That’s what makes this election so hard to read. The economy and cost of living lead every other issue, at 43%. But 29% say neither party would do a better job on it. And among voters who aren’t highly motivated to show up, 51% call the economy their top issue, compared with 36% of the most motivated. The people most consumed by the cost of living are the least sure their vote changes anything.

Here’s what stays with me after more than 60 hours of interviews with more than four dozen people over the course of the last six months. None of the people who let me into their homes – who sat with me at their kitchen tables, put out a chair and plate for me at their family dinners, took me to their most personal thoughts, places and financial information – asked for much.

Not a bailout or a handout, just a floor that holds: rent that doesn’t double, a utility bill that’s right, a shot at the same starter home their parents got, a fair chance for their kids to stay. They did the math themselves, often more precisely than the people sending them mailers. Then they blamed themselves, then they got angry, and now they’re deciding whether showing up is worth it.

That’s what’s really at stake on November 3.

I came home from these trips heartbroken more often than I’d like to admit, but never cynical. Phebie still goes to the beach because it’s free. Sheila stood up at a city council meeting for the first time in her life. Corey still calls his optimism “mental illness” and gets up for harvest anyway.

They’re holding up their end. In a few days, they’ll tell us whether they think anyone else is.

从克利夫兰到外滩群岛，这场将决定中期选举结果的生活成本危机，用亲历者的视角来解读。

今年秋季选举中，所有现任候选人，无论是共和党人还是民主党人，都以一系列数据作为竞选纲领：失业率4.2%，家庭收入创历史新高，通货膨胀“降温”。然而，在过去六个月的街头巷尾，我总结出了五点，解释了为什么这些数据并没有真正发挥作用。

我花了将近一年的时间试图解答一个问题：为什么美国人对一个账面上看起来如此良好的经济形势感到如此糟糕？大约74%的美国人认为经济形势糟糕，这与2009年持相同观点的84%相差不远，当时美国正经历着数十万个工作岗位的流失。

那些因为没人问就主动把银行账单递给我这个陌生人的人，是不会被一封邮件打动的。“抑制”通货膨胀听起来像是对那些房租翻倍且居高不下的人的侮辱。当一个家庭仅仅因为一张普通账单就濒临破产时，他们的备选方案就是睡在车里。那些多年来一直自责的人，现在开始责怪那些掌权者。父母和祖父母们都在担心，他们的孩子是否还能继续住在他们亲手建造的房子里。

选民们愤怒不已，他们不相信自己的选票能改变任何事情。在全国选情最胶着的几场选举中，哪位候选人的方案更好或许并不重要，重要的是，人们最终相信哪位候选人真正倾听了他们的心声。

我先做了表格。我是个数字控，这一点我毫不掩饰。但表格并不能解释一切。不过，在六期节目中，四十多位嘉宾在自家厨房的餐桌旁，通常把账单摊开在我们面前，最终解释了一切。

以下是他们教会我的五件事，而这些是任何数字都无法传达的。

华盛顿所说的通胀降温，指的是物价上涨速度放缓，并不意味着任何东西都变得更便宜了。这种区别听起来像是经济学家在吹毛求疵，但在普通百姓的餐桌上，却至关重要。

乔琳·西梅切克在克利夫兰租住的同一套公寓，七年间租金“从785美元涨到了近1600美元”。她告诉我：“我报税的时候，收入肯定没有翻倍。”

在坦帕，菲比·怀特的房租从850美元涨到了1250美元，而她的社保金却纹丝不动。“你的账单会涨，”她说，“但你的社保金却不会涨。” 近年来，社保金的年度调整（即生活成本调整）并没有跟上不断上涨的生活成本。

自 2024 年 12 月以来，物价上涨了 6.8%。平均时薪上涨了 5.9%。这两个数字就足以说明一切，也正因如此，“经济正在好转”这句话听起来才像是一种侮辱。

亚特兰大一位二十多岁的女孩凯·琼斯用四个字概括了她朋友们的财务状况：“我们正处于经济衰退期。” 但根据所有官方指标，事实并非如此。她描述的并非经济衰退的定义，而是一种感受，而这种感受恰恰反映在了民调中。

我遇到的这些人并非被某一场灾难彻底击垮，而是日复一日的苦苦挣扎：住房、保险、食物、托儿、水电，所有开销都在不断攀升，没有一项是可有可无的。这让他们随时可能陷入危机：一条70美元的轮胎、一张400美元的兽医账单、周一到期的1100美元水电费账单，或者暴风雪中汽车电池没电。

让我始料未及的是，他们当中有那么多人已经悄悄地想好了下一步该怎么做。而且答案往往是汽车。

菲比几乎把汽车保险放在首位。“以防万一我需要睡在车里，”她告诉我，“我祈祷这种情况永远不会发生。”我请她解释一下。她说她认识很多已经这么做的人，“除非他们告诉你，否则你根本不会知道他们睡在车里。”

在坦帕的一家免费诊所，我坐在一位名叫艾伦·特罗西诺的 64 岁癌症幸存者旁边，当我问她已经在车里住了多久时，她说：“呃，大概一个星期了。”

在北卡罗来纳州落基山，退伍军人希拉·斯卡伯勒靠固定收入生活，今年夏天，由于市政府断电，她连续七周几乎每晚都睡在车里。在北卡罗来纳州的外滩群岛，导游斯图·莱尔德住在他的卡车里，直到一月份的一场暴风雪导致电池耗尽，他最终冻伤、三次住院，髋部骨折。

他们的年龄、种族、地域和政治立场各不相同。但他们每个人都孤身一人，只能依靠同一套应急方案。我报道这类问题近二十年了，却在任何政府数据系列中都找不到这样的安全网。对数百万美国人来说，这套方案就像一个不断贬值的资产，被束之高阁。

这件事至今仍让我耿耿于怀。

在每个城市，人们面对着数十年来形成的种种力量——掠夺性贷款、以贫困工资为支撑的托儿市场、拒绝扩大医疗补助的州政府、导致柴油价格超过 6 美元的战争——看着这些破坏，就认为自己才是问题所在。

“我没做出正确的决定，”乔琳告诉我。菲比说，如果她那一代人更懂事，他们就会做得更好。爱荷华州的玉米和大豆种植户科里·古德休盯着他超支的柴油管道，告诉我：“要么是我做错了，要么是通货膨胀害了我。责任必须由我来承担。”一位坦帕的女士花了35年时间帮助其他人申请食品券和医疗补助，如今她自己却没有了医疗保险，她说：“我可以给别人提供咨询，但我没办法给自己提供咨询。”

起初我会笑笑，因为这话听起来很荒谬，我以为他们只是在开玩笑。后来我才意识到他们是认真的，坦白说，我会很生气。当一个系统悄无声息地崩溃时，受影响的人往往会责怪自己。

但自责不会永远停留在自责的阶段。乔琳在我们谈话接近尾声时说得最好：“我有点纳闷，为什么更多的人没有感到愤怒。” 现在他们确实愤怒了。超过四分之三的美国人表示，他们对国家的发展方向感到不满或愤怒，其中37%的人直言不讳地说自己非常愤怒。

我听到的焦虑不仅仅关乎这个月的账单，还关乎谁能留下来。

格雷格和奥黛丽·邓恩夫妇在波士顿郊区一年内为三个孩子支付了11.4万美元的托儿费用。“即使我们想要第四个孩子，”格雷格说，“我们也负担不起。”

在外滩群岛，企业主克里斯·马里克买房只是为了留住员工，他觉得自己的三个女儿可能永远都无法住在她们长大的地方。“如果我遵守规则，按时纳税，这样做应该没问题，”他说。“但从理论上讲，这永远行不通。”

在亚特兰大，玛雅·马丁内斯眼睁睁地看着她的移民父母因为房价上涨而被迫搬离他们曾参与建设的社区。她说，他们“失去了两个家”：一个是他们离开的祖国，另一个是他们在这里建立的社区。在爱荷华州，一位年轻的农民解释说，根据现行的税收规定，让年长的亲戚去世时仍然拥有土地，比把土地卖给他更划算。

乔琳从未继承过家族财富，但她决心让儿子继承。“如果我42岁都生活拮据，”她问我，“我怎么能指望我即将18岁的儿子有地方住呢？”

这就是为什么35岁以下的选民是全国最悲观的群体之一：84%的人对经济状况评价很低。这不是一种情绪，而是他们对自身未来的理性分析。

当我坐在厨房餐桌旁或个人办公室里，逐行查看托儿账单、水电费单和预算表时，我常常惊叹于这么多人愿意如此坦诚地谈论他们的个人财务压力和困境。我渐渐明白，部分原因是因为没有人问过他们。

希拉直截了当地说：“他们根本不听。”她告诉我，“我们作为公民，一直在努力告诉你们发生了什么，但没人听。”当我问菲比，政策制定者是否理解她的处境时，她只说了一个字：“不。”然后又说：“因为他们没有经历过这种挣扎。”希拉停电时，竞选电话打了过来，她对他们说：“在你们帮我恢复供电之前，别问我是否会投票给任何人。”

这就是这次选举难以解读的原因。经济和生活成本问题以43%的支持率领先于其他所有议题。但29%的人认为两党在这方面都做得差不多。在那些投票积极性不高的选民中，51%的人将经济列为他们最关心的问题，而投票积极性最高的选民中只有36%的人持相同观点。最关注生活成本的人反而最不确定他们的投票能否改变现状。

在过去六个月里，我花了超过60个小时采访了四十多人，以下是我印象最深刻的几点。那些让我走进他们家——和我一起坐在餐桌旁，在家庭聚餐时为我摆放椅子和餐盘，带我了解他们最私密的想法、地方和财务状况——的人，没有一个向我索取太多。

这不是救助或施舍，而是一个可以承受的底线：房租不会翻倍，水电费正常，有机会买到父母当年买的那套首套房，孩子们有公平的机会留下来。他们自己算过账，往往比那些给他们寄宣传单的人算得更清楚。然后他们自责，然后愤怒，现在他们正在考虑是否值得出面。

这才是11月3日真正攸关的问题。

这些旅行回来，我常常心碎不已，次数多到我自己都不愿承认，但我从未变得愤世嫉俗。菲比依然会去海滩，因为那里免费。希拉生平第一次在市议会会议上站了起来。科里仍然把他的乐观称为“精神疾病”，但他照样早起去收割庄稼。

他们履行了自己的承诺。过几天，他们会告诉我们他们认为其他人是否也履行了承诺。