Now for a few words that may give you some guidance on life as it is.
Last week, my pal Mike Long and I had dinner at a Thai place in Georgetown, Washington, D.C. Then we walked one long, steep block to Barnes & Noble so I could buy a few photo books of D.C. to send to my friends in California.
The store was almost empty, possibly because of a powerful rain that was falling. I found several lovely books and brought them to the sales counter, where two young salesclerks, a man and a woman, were lounging. I told them I wanted to buy the books and have them mailed or otherwise sent to three addresses in California.
Deer, Meet Headlights
The young clerks looked worried. "We don't know how to do that," one of them said.
"You don't ever send books?" I asked.
"Hey, we're students at George Washington University," the young woman said. "We don't know how to do much."
"But surely other customers have wanted to send books," I said. They shrugged.
"Can you call over a manager?" I asked. "Yes," the young woman said eagerly. "Yes." Soon, a pretty young woman with short hair appeared.
To make a long story short, she was indeed the manager, but she didn't know how to send the books, either. In fact, even after I'd carefully spelled out all of the addresses, they couldn't figure out how to send anything.
Worse yet, just the effort "froze" the checkout computer such that it couldn't even let me buy the books to mail myself. When I wanted to buy some note cards with photos by the great Fred Maroon, they could only take cash and not give me any change.
No one ever expressed any apologies.
The Nakedly Indifferent Civil Servant
Now, bear in mind, this is in a time when people are supposedly suffering financially and need jobs. As Mike and I walked back to my apartment, I said, "That was amazing. Those people didn't know how to do a basic transaction like mailing books."
"No," he corrected me, "they don't want to do it. They didn't even really try very hard. They're college students. That means they don't care at all. They're getting paid whether they send the books or not. They're like civil servants -- only civil servants have a good attitude, and these guys have a poor attitude."
"You're right," I said.
When I got home, I went online and in five minutes had ordered and shipped the books. No fuss, no muss. Not a good omen for Barnes & Noble.
Piecework Nation. After that, I called information to get the telephone number for a luxury hotel in Chicago. The operator couldn't find the number -- I got it online, too. Then I called the hotel. The clerk at the front desk couldn't find my reservation. I retrieved it online.
The next day in Chicago, I spoke to a gathering of physicians at a convention. After the speech, they told me that their No. 1 problem (after Medicare reimbursements) was finding workers who were actually willing to learn and work. "It's not a case of workers begging for jobs," said the man next to me at a post-speech lunch. "We're begging for qualified workers."
There's a point to be gleaned from this, and my friend Mike made it well after our debacle at Barnes & Noble: "I wish every worker in America had to be a freelancer at selling or writing or painting or carpentry or computer repair or law or something for two years. I wish Americans could have a period in their lives when they only got paid for what they sold and produced. It would do this country world of good."
Whistling Past the Graveyard
There's another point here. First, it's true that we may well be in a recession. I didn't think it would happen, but a combination of Wall Street idiocy and greed, Federal Reserve tardiness and caution, and a deluge of fear dumped on consumers by the media may have done it.
But even in a recession, there's always a shortage of talented, hardworking people in every field. Be one and, even if the recession gets really bad, you can whistle past the graveyard. You may have to move locations. You may have to learn new skills. But a willingness to work will get you everywhere you want to be.
And if you aren't willing to work, I don't see why those of us who are should bail you out.
Last week, my pal Mike Long and I had dinner at a Thai place in Georgetown, Washington, D.C. Then we walked one long, steep block to Barnes & Noble so I could buy a few photo books of D.C. to send to my friends in California.
The store was almost empty, possibly because of a powerful rain that was falling. I found several lovely books and brought them to the sales counter, where two young salesclerks, a man and a woman, were lounging. I told them I wanted to buy the books and have them mailed or otherwise sent to three addresses in California.
Deer, Meet Headlights
The young clerks looked worried. "We don't know how to do that," one of them said.
"You don't ever send books?" I asked.
"Hey, we're students at George Washington University," the young woman said. "We don't know how to do much."
"But surely other customers have wanted to send books," I said. They shrugged.
"Can you call over a manager?" I asked. "Yes," the young woman said eagerly. "Yes." Soon, a pretty young woman with short hair appeared.
To make a long story short, she was indeed the manager, but she didn't know how to send the books, either. In fact, even after I'd carefully spelled out all of the addresses, they couldn't figure out how to send anything.
Worse yet, just the effort "froze" the checkout computer such that it couldn't even let me buy the books to mail myself. When I wanted to buy some note cards with photos by the great Fred Maroon, they could only take cash and not give me any change.
No one ever expressed any apologies.
The Nakedly Indifferent Civil Servant
Now, bear in mind, this is in a time when people are supposedly suffering financially and need jobs. As Mike and I walked back to my apartment, I said, "That was amazing. Those people didn't know how to do a basic transaction like mailing books."
"No," he corrected me, "they don't want to do it. They didn't even really try very hard. They're college students. That means they don't care at all. They're getting paid whether they send the books or not. They're like civil servants -- only civil servants have a good attitude, and these guys have a poor attitude."
"You're right," I said.
When I got home, I went online and in five minutes had ordered and shipped the books. No fuss, no muss. Not a good omen for Barnes & Noble.
Piecework Nation. After that, I called information to get the telephone number for a luxury hotel in Chicago. The operator couldn't find the number -- I got it online, too. Then I called the hotel. The clerk at the front desk couldn't find my reservation. I retrieved it online.
The next day in Chicago, I spoke to a gathering of physicians at a convention. After the speech, they told me that their No. 1 problem (after Medicare reimbursements) was finding workers who were actually willing to learn and work. "It's not a case of workers begging for jobs," said the man next to me at a post-speech lunch. "We're begging for qualified workers."
There's a point to be gleaned from this, and my friend Mike made it well after our debacle at Barnes & Noble: "I wish every worker in America had to be a freelancer at selling or writing or painting or carpentry or computer repair or law or something for two years. I wish Americans could have a period in their lives when they only got paid for what they sold and produced. It would do this country world of good."
Whistling Past the Graveyard
There's another point here. First, it's true that we may well be in a recession. I didn't think it would happen, but a combination of Wall Street idiocy and greed, Federal Reserve tardiness and caution, and a deluge of fear dumped on consumers by the media may have done it.
But even in a recession, there's always a shortage of talented, hardworking people in every field. Be one and, even if the recession gets really bad, you can whistle past the graveyard. You may have to move locations. You may have to learn new skills. But a willingness to work will get you everywhere you want to be.
And if you aren't willing to work, I don't see why those of us who are should bail you out.
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