He really does attempt to avoid it, but some days...
This morning, he was on the receiving end (not completely unexpected) of a diatribe from an academic colleague, whom he's known for some forty years now. OS had to deliver some mildly unpleasant news yesterday. It was very mild stuff, but OS had to do his job and be the bearer of less-wonderful-tidings.
No one had lost a job, a house, a spouse, a child, received a diagnosis of cancer, suffered a stroke or heart attack. None of the above, not even close to that sort of level of severity. The reaction was, shall we say, disproportionate.
Then he got to talk with a caterer who told him they could pack soft drinks into box lunches with no problem, but to make up a crock of lemonade would be prohibitively expensive, as in, eight dollars per pitcher expensive. OS responded, 'This really beggars belief; this is why your hotel has a chef. Crush lemons, add sugar, add water, stir, adjust, add ice, serve. Just like iced tea, no?'
No, sir, we can't do that.
OS passionately believes that profits are good, but rape is bad.
His beloved United States seems to be in the grip of a few of pernicious attitudes.
1. We deserve to be successful, to be told that we are successful, and feel good about it--all the time, whether we actually did the work to accomplish that success. Failure is not an option, so we just won't allow anyone to tell us about it. (Think university grade inflation. Parents of twenty-one year old students raise Cain if their special child earns and is awarded a 'C'.)
2. We get to decide what is and aren't academic standards of expectation, from here in our corner of the world. 'Cuz it's us that sez so. If Professor Doolittle at Bugtussle State College has been teaching the same syllabus since 1987, then (ByGod!) that is the heart of the body of knowledge, and don't-chew-dare tell me otherwise. (Like I said, the reaction was disproportionate...)
3. We deserve to sell you a pitcher of lemonade for eight dollars, or (as in the hotel in Indy earlier this month) a shot of Jack for nine. 'Cuz it's us selling it to you. We be makin' money, honey, and it's your job to fork over. OS saw a story on Fox Business earlier today that convention venues in Chicago were charging exhibitors $1200 to connect electricity and internet access to their booths, and then marvelled that the trade shows decided to take their business elsewhere. That bar was deserted, by the way. Wonder why?
It's as if we have arrived at the firm belief that we can create our own reality, that the laws of gravity, math, ethics and mortality are mutable.
By us. 'Cuz it's, well, us!
There is a weird Christian heresy that floats through the culture here, called 'Name It And Claim It'. It posits, that because you are an adherent to this brand of the faith, God loves you better than that poor schlub Baptist down the street. God wants you to have all the goodies, all the time. (HAL-le-looooh-YAH!) Just decide what you want (Name It), pray real hard and donate generously via our TV ministry, and God will give it to (Claim It). 'Cuz it's you, and He really really really loves you better. It's you He's thinking of, 24/7/365 into eternity.
It sounds ridiculous, but it is sooooo beguiling. You don't even have to be an adherent of an heretical cult to fall for it. It's like it's in the water here. Think about what that sort of societal attitude might do to a culture, and its economy, over the long pull.
Wait a minute, it already has...
OS will stop whining now. But he just wants to say for the record that he is on the receiving end of unimaginably wonderful things in this world, including the ability and will to work like a Trojan for sixteen hours a day. And he doesn't deserve a bit of it. He still wakes up to the fabulous Mrs. OS every morning, shocked that she tolerates him, much less loves him like she does.
Whine ended, thanks for your indulgence.
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