I just got off the phone with my nephew, who's a sophomore in college. Today's his birthday, so I called him to wish him well. I think college is turning him into a communist. He thinks making money is wrong unless you do something good with it. He said I'm selfish. I think he's trying to get me to offer to pay his tuition. It's not going to work.
He said he sees his friends who are seniors start to get jobs, as investment bankers or management consultants, or decide to go to law school, and he feels sad for them because they're going to waste their abilities and not do any good for the world. I think he has a lot of growing up to do. It's not all about doing good. Not everyone can do good. Some of us like having nice things. Some of us like being able to pay our bills. Some of us like playing golf. He wants to paint. Not everyone who wants to paint can make a living painting. He thinks anyone who doesn't follow his passion is a bad person, living an unclean life. When he was talking it made my skin crawl that he's even related to me. He doesn't understand that the world doesn't always let you do what you want to do. Sometimes you have to make decisions. There are sacrifices and tradeoffs. You can't always follow your heart. The world isn't like that.
He brought some of his paintings to Thanksgiving. I don't know anything about art, but I know I thought his paintings were terrible. He's going to end up homeless. And he'll deserve it, because he's a bright kid and if he doesn't go do something useful with himself, like become a doctor or a lawyer, he's wasting his mind and he's being stupid. Too many kids are stupid these days. They think they can have ridiculous dreams and make them come true. How many people are making a living as painters these days? How many of them are making as much money as I do? How many of them can strike fear into people's hearts just by picking up the phone? How many of them are making as much money as I do?
It's not all about the money, but the money is society's way of saying that what I do is valuable, and what I do is important. Not everyone can do what I do. Not everyone can get to where I've gotten. Especially without losing his humanity. Most people in my position are real jerks. I'm glad I'm not. I'm glad I haven't turned into one of them. When I was a young associate I saw them and on the one hand envied them, but on the other hand promised myself I'd never be like them. Sometimes I catch myself acting like them, like when I don't hold the elevator door for an associate racing toward me, or I search through people's desk drawers late at night after they've gone home, but sometimes I surprise myself and do good. I remembered my nephew's birthday, after all. So how bad a person can I be?
He said he sees his friends who are seniors start to get jobs, as investment bankers or management consultants, or decide to go to law school, and he feels sad for them because they're going to waste their abilities and not do any good for the world. I think he has a lot of growing up to do. It's not all about doing good. Not everyone can do good. Some of us like having nice things. Some of us like being able to pay our bills. Some of us like playing golf. He wants to paint. Not everyone who wants to paint can make a living painting. He thinks anyone who doesn't follow his passion is a bad person, living an unclean life. When he was talking it made my skin crawl that he's even related to me. He doesn't understand that the world doesn't always let you do what you want to do. Sometimes you have to make decisions. There are sacrifices and tradeoffs. You can't always follow your heart. The world isn't like that.
He brought some of his paintings to Thanksgiving. I don't know anything about art, but I know I thought his paintings were terrible. He's going to end up homeless. And he'll deserve it, because he's a bright kid and if he doesn't go do something useful with himself, like become a doctor or a lawyer, he's wasting his mind and he's being stupid. Too many kids are stupid these days. They think they can have ridiculous dreams and make them come true. How many people are making a living as painters these days? How many of them are making as much money as I do? How many of them can strike fear into people's hearts just by picking up the phone? How many of them are making as much money as I do?
It's not all about the money, but the money is society's way of saying that what I do is valuable, and what I do is important. Not everyone can do what I do. Not everyone can get to where I've gotten. Especially without losing his humanity. Most people in my position are real jerks. I'm glad I'm not. I'm glad I haven't turned into one of them. When I was a young associate I saw them and on the one hand envied them, but on the other hand promised myself I'd never be like them. Sometimes I catch myself acting like them, like when I don't hold the elevator door for an associate racing toward me, or I search through people's desk drawers late at night after they've gone home, but sometimes I surprise myself and do good. I remembered my nephew's birthday, after all. So how bad a person can I be?
Yorumlar
Yorum Gönder