American Dream

At one point, I had taken to lying. I lied about stupid things—things that didn’t even matter. I would steal other people’s identities, telling stories I heard from others in the first person.

I remember thinking how easy it was, and how eager others were to believe the fantastic. They wanted me to be interesting, if for only a moment, vicariously, their lives were too. It didn’t matter if what I told them was true. I gave them the hope, the possibility that life was more than paying bloated student loans and the constant struggle to find contentment and validation in the banalities of their situation. They forgot about their miserable jobs and abandoned youthful aspirations—the stillbirth of the American Dream. If they took the time to think about their situation, they’d realize the corporations they work for have them locked into a legalized form of slavery. Or maybe they knew, and found it easier to remain inert, choosing not to change their circumstances for fear of failure or the unknown. I’m always amazed at how so many people toil their entire lives for the benefit of someone who has much more than they do. 

I think back to when I used to work for this company that made computer chips. A friend of mine who worked in purchasing would tell me about how, on a weekly basis, one of our distributors would decide to discontinue a product integral to our supply chain. This was bad news for my friend because, as the purchase agent, he was responsible for securing parts and suppliers. Finding another supplier would take at least six months and interrupt manufacturing, potentially leading to the loss of millions of dollars in contracts. At this point, one of our VPs would call the VP of the supplier, negotiate details, and then arrange to transfer a large, undisclosed sum of money into the other VP’s personal bank account.

This is how business works.