What I’m Reading

How Starbucks Saved My Life: A Son of Privilege Learns to Live Like Everyone Else
By Michael Gates Gill

1. If your office has a community bookshelf, use it as an opportunity to read something you wouldn’t normally read. I found one of my favorite books that way.
2. Keep your expectations low.

Full disclosure: I don’t care for Starbucks coffee. It tastes like they burned the beans. Also I don’t go for fancy whippacinolatta stuff, so it’s not a business that really appeals to me.

I am a speed-reader. I can’t always stop myself from blowing through books and articles (especially if the language is fairly basic), and sometimes I think I lose something. I often read books over again, so I can kick back and enjoy the way that writers play with language. I don’t need to read this one again.

Michael Gates Gill grew up rich and a child of the rich, went to an Ivy League university, used his secret-society connections to land a high-powered, high-paying advertising job, meet loads of famous people, moved whenever his company told him to, and then he got old. Then he got fired. Then his consulting business dried up. Then he knocked up a woman he met at a gym. Then his wife left him. Then he discovered he had a (minor) brain tumor that causing him to lose his hearing.

Did you get all of that? I know it’s kind of involved. This is an autobiography, and there’s little motivation to skimp on details when you’re writing an autobiography. (unless you were President.) That’s why a book about working at Starbucks also includes a story about tea with the Queen. And one about meeting Frank Sinatra. And one about running with bulls in Pamplona because he wants to impress Hemingway. And one about how his dad’s archenemy is the guy that wrote The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.

Still with me?

This book is bad. It’s not terrible (though the never-ending BJs to Starbucks are pretty ridic. And he can’t write dialogue to save his life, every character, regardless of age, ethnicity or educational background, sounds exactly like him, and nobody ever uses contractions), but it’s bad. I hate to say this, because Michael Gates Gill clearly needs a hug. He’s a very emotional man, and he has some legitimate regrets about the way he lived his life (Even though he did what he was raised to do. We are all screwed in some way), and he’s working really hard to repair that damage. It’s just…the man is fighting so hard for perspective and making so little progress and I kinda want to shake him. Also I don't care about his famous people encounters, and they seem really out of place in the narrative.

He’s sitting in Starbucks at the end of his rope (and in a very expensive suit), when a woman jokingly asks him if he wants a job. He says yes, without thinking. She says, “are you sure you can work for me?” and then he tells us about how much he loved his black nanny and how lonely she was when he left. Since his prospective boss is also black, this is relevant. Because this is how many black people he knows.(did I mention he lives in NYC?)

So he stumbles horribly through the interview and gets hired to work a month later. He’s not hired to work in the Starbucks he was sitting in, and this is a problem because he’s one of those people that only goes so far north and so far east or something (I don’t know New York, but I am familiar with this sort because they’re all over the Detroit suburbs). So this causes a panic, and he has to learn to ride the bus. MGG is always learning things.

He learned to clean the bathroom, and work the cash register, and talk to customers, and speak to his coworkers with respect, and carry trash bags and he’s the happiest he’s been in his life. He also realized that in his past life he’d purposely destroyed the career of woman much like his boss because she didn’t look like him. And he’s very sorry.

And I’m very irritated. It’s not that I don’t sympathize with the guy. I mean, I don’t sympathize A LOT, but I do sympathize. I just…he revels in his new life like it’s a hobby. I never read Eat, Pray, Love because I thought it would be like this. Except this is full-time.

So I recommend skipping this one, but if my review is a bit too vague, just read these lyrics instead.

Why this pisses me off....

I got two facebook emails today on the same subject. Here they are:

This was in my inbox and thought I'd pass it on...not sure in teh least how it is supposed to spread cancer awareness but I have gotten the idea it is annoying some of hte guys and who can resist that? *evil laugh*

"Some fun is going on... Just write the colour of ur bra in your status nothing else and send it on to only girls no men. It will spread the wings of cancer awareness. It will be fun to see how long it takes b4 the men will wonder why all the girls have colour in their statuses!"

and...

Something fun is going around! Update your status with the color of your bra, nothing else in the message, just the color. Then send this to all the gals on your friend list, but none of the guys. Let's see how far this goes to spread cancer awareness and how long it takes before the guys start wondering about the color updates!

I wrote this status update as a response:

Dear friends: if knowing the color of my underwear helped heal cancer, my husband wouldn't be lying in a hospital bed in the fucking emergency room right now. Feel free to spread all the bullshit forwards you want, but leave me the fuck out of it.

So here's a brief list of my issues with this message, mostly for the benefit of people who sent it to me, and then saw my status update:

1. Secret memes don't raise awareness of anything. It's a game, which is nice for people who remain untouched by this illness, but why send it to me? I don't PLAY cancer games. I live with cancer. I know that you know the difference.

2. If the only way to raise awareness about a serious health issue is to titillate friends and acquaintances with talk of your underwear, then there's something wrong with your friends and acquaintances, or there's something wrong with you. Using your tits to sell concern about cancer is crass, base, and is the sort of behavior that makes you complicit in your own objectification. Even if you don't consider yourself a feminist, you know that I DO. So again, why send this to me?

It didn't help that I was getting these emails while I'm trying to communicate with John's oncologist while in the ER. (He was admitted tonight, apparently he's got a nasty unidentifiable infection and he needs [another] series of blood transfusions.) I have ignored the other stupid facebook cancer meme, with the stupid heart shapes in the fucking status updates, but this one...is just fucking appalling.

Obama reaction

I am huge Obama fan. I read Dreams of My Father just after I heard him speak at Kerry’s Convention in 2004. I love, love, love this man. I voted for this man in the primaries, and while I was there I had the pleasure of watching a woman in a walker go up to the check-in desk with her 65-year-old son and explain that he had to go into the booth with her because she’d never voted before. I gave to his campaign (a first for me), and I went to vote in the general election, I was treated to an hour of pure chaos wherein the youngsters amongst us dodged oxygen tanks, canes, walkers, and general elderly enthusiasm to make sure our elders got their chance to vote for a black president. We wanted to make sure that the people who faced down hoses and police dogs and staged sit-ins and suffered everyday indignities so we could have freedoms we often ignored and took for granted, got to vote for the first black president. I love him for that. I love him for what he represents to my people, and to my country as a whole.

As a Democrat who was horrified by the discourse of the past eight years, and weary from being told that dissent was the opposite of patriotism, tired of hearing “you go to war with the leader you have,” and frankly disgusted by the general use of jingoism as a substitution for nuanced thought, I was happy to have a thinker running for office. I was delighted to see a man who reasoned and pondered and picked things apart. He may not always be right, but his process indicated to me that he reached his decisions the right way, a way that allowed for the recognition of bad ideas. I’m not sure he’s seen all of his promise through on this front, but I’m proud of him and happy to have him nonetheless.

I just don’t understand why he got a Nobel Prize.

Seriously? I mean Seriously?

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/10/world/10nobel.html?_r=1

I promise not to just post links without comment very often, but the President won a Nobel Peace Prize for Diplomacy? I have to go to work. I will elaborate on this later.