by TS DeHaviland
As you begin the
grown-up part of your life journey, as you enter careers, as you
become the adults we haven't had the heart to tell you you do not
want to be, you might be asking yourself “What do I need to do to
become successful?”
This is an important
question an era in which it is increasingly difficult to “make it”
in the traditionally American sense.
That is why I, as a
successful person, have taken it upon myself to tell you.
First, major in
business.
I realize that it
might be too late for some of you to do this. But there's nothing
stopping you from marching right over to the admissions office
immediately after this ceremony and re-enrolling. That would also
have the advantage of saving you from paying off your student loans
for a few more years, and it would finally get your fathers off your
backs for choosing a path in which dead languages play a prominent
role.
Besides, you're
already six-figures in debt, so what's another hundred-thousand to a
future job-creator?
If you do this, or
if you have already done this, you'll notice that, as a business
major, you're no more prepared to deal with the vagaries of the real
world than anyone else. Perhaps less so.
But key people in
key organizations will think you're more prepared, and,
frankly, that's all that really matters.
You see, competence,
intelligence, and quality of work are highly over-rated by the
earnest seeker of success. In fact, attention to detail is a sure
sign of someone who lacks leadership qualities. Actually caring about
what you do merely communicates that you want to do menial and
low-paying things that involve paying attention to the details, not
to manage and execute.
It is, therefore,
vital that you develop the proper disdain for the actual work while
always speaking vaguely of “the big picture” and “the 30,000
foot view,” and “the view from the balcony.” In this way, you
can telegraph your leadership abilities by assuming the ground the
Big Guys already occupy.
Next, it's important
to know rich people and schmooze with them.
Schmoozing is
different than friendship. I cannot stress that enough. The people
with whom you are schmoozing are not your friends, though your
success depends upon spending a lot of time with them, particularly
at the events they think are important—typically vapid and annoying
parties of varying vapid and annoying themes.
If you're not
already rich, they will never fully accept you, and you will never be
able to marry their women. And, trust me, if you're not already rich,
you don't want their women anyway, unless you always want to be
considered “the help” by your in-laws.
Schmoozing is also
called “networking” by those who want to make it seem less
mercenary than it is. Do not believe it: it's schmoozing. It's a
sophisticated form of sucking up: as such, it is one of the most
important life skills you'll ever develop.
So laugh at their
awful, shallow, sometimes racist jokes. Agree with their wackadoodle
political philosophies. Tell the female host how wonderful she looks,
even though her latest plastic surgery makes her look like a
largemouth bass.
There is nothing
more effective for getting what you want from rich people than
catering to their perceived notions of their own place in the world.
The next thing you
must do is to sell out almost immediately. The moment you see an
opportunity to signal to the blue bloods your willingness to give up
to them whatever glorious thing it is you've created, do it. It
doesn't matter if you've discovered a cure for cancer and Big Pharma
wants to buy it just to shut it down so they can keep selling their
existing lines of drugs. It doesn't matter if it's a new energy
source and a military contractor wants to buy it so they can wage
better war. If big money takes an interest, sell. Clinging to
impractical ideas like integrity or the desire to create a better
world is a certain way to invite ruin.
The ancillary rule
is to not just sell out early but to sell out often. The man who
stands on principle stands alone. And freezing.
As you sell out,
though, it's very important to cover you bases. Get everything in
writing and run it by a good contracts lawyer. Make sure you get
yours and that the cash-flow clause is airtight when you walk away.
Remember: those rich
acquaintances are going to screw you every chance they get, and you
have to protect yourself. And don't worry about offending them:
they'll admire you more for having had the intelligence and
audacity to screw them over first.
Another reason not
to feel bad about doing screwing them over is that their kind of
greed isn't the reason the rich are rotten; it's merely a
symptom of it.
The reason they're
rotten is honest: it's in how they are raised.
You see, all of this
advice I'm giving you is what rich people are taught from the cradle
to do. It's second-nature to them, but as the last graduating class
of people made up mostly of the middle class, you-all have to learn
this stuff, and it's best not learned the hard way.
At this point, you
might be asking “TS, this sounds like a miserable way to live!
Constantly compromising, sucking up to people I hate, always angling
for the way to maximize for me and not care for anyone else.”
And, of course,
you'd be right.
But the premise, and
the promise, of higher education these days is about being
successful, not about being happy, content, or fulfilled.
If you want those
things, you could use your prodigious intelligence and cultured
understanding to solve real problems or help people in need. You
could use your creativity and wit to produce great works of art to
edify humanity and alleviate suffering through the compassion they
engender. You could use your brilliant scientific minds to advance
what we know about the world and make us a more efficient and
sustainable species.
But doing these
things is a great way to become poor, to struggle with irrelevancy
and frustration, to constantly face the possibility that all of your
hard work is going towards a lost cause.
And even then,
there's no guarantee such a life will make you happy, content, or
fulfilled. But it's got a much better chance of doing so than the
life spent chasing what we cynically call success.
Now, a few of you
accidentally took logic, and you might think you smell a false
dilemma. “TS,” you might say, “there's got to be a third way,
some synthesis of fulfillment and success, some way to do good while
still doing well.”
Fifty or sixty years
ago that may have been true.
But the contrast
between success and fulfillment has become, in recent times,
considerably more stark: the efforts of the wealthy few have, quite
purposefully, stymied the work of the compassionate mass. In our own
greed, our own desire to be like those whose collections of
stuff they've taught us covet, we have allowed the rich to set the
terms for what it means to be successful.
If you're OK with
not having what they have, if you're OK with being a small voice of
caring in a chorus of greed, then you might begin, in some modest
way, to change the tune.
