Classy with Jonathan Menjivar turns class into a set of lived scenes rather than a lecture. The show is strongest when it starts small. A menu at a fancy seafood restaurant. A swap meet. A recruiter offering T-shirts for push-ups. A memory of wanting Oprah to give a mother a house. From there, it follows the emotional logic beneath the moment. Money matters, but so do manners, taste, family myth, professional status, guilt, ambition, and the strange ways people learn to perform need. The narration is personal without becoming loose. It admits embarrassment and confusion, then uses those feelings as evidence. In one episode, Chris Gethard’s anxiety at a high-end dinner becomes a way to talk about working-class suspicion of pleasure. In another, a story about Queen for a Day leads into painful family history and the costs of turning hardship into entertainment. The Army recruiting episode watches opportunity, discipline, boredom, and class pressure meet inside a school hallway. The Terry Gross episode uses archival radio to think about labor, authority, and how a voice becomes important. Classy also makes room for listener-style questions about service workers, house cleaning, and the guilt that can attach to being polite from a position of power. It is measured, but not bloodless. It can be wry. It can be grave. Its best moments understand that class is often felt as a bodily flinch before it becomes an argument. For listeners drawn to narrative nonfiction about identity, money, work, family, and social codes, the show offers a thoughtful and uneasy kind of recognition.