YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE SATISFIED WITH YOUR JOB : A RESPONSE TO MALCOLM GLADWELL

AN ESSAY

In Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell analyzes "successful" lives in the United States. In large part, he focuses on work: What draws "successful" people to their work, and why do they enjoy it? In broad outline, he asserts that "satisfaction with work" involves three distinct criteria: (1) Autonomy: You must have control over what you do; (2) Complexity : Your work must involve fresh mental challenges, not mind-numbing repetition; and (3) Connection between Effort and Reward : You must receive compensation in an amount that fairly correlates with the amount of effort you believe you have expended. Gladwell says that all three criteria must be present for a person to "enjoy their job."

I agree with Gladwell that people who have autonomy in their working lives "enjoy" their work far more than people who receive condescending orders all day in a suffocating corporate hierarchy. I also agree that people who face fresh new tasks every day enjoy their jobs more because they do not burn themselves out endlessly doing the same thing day after day. And I agree that people who get paid what they think they deserve obviously feel better about working than people who receive virtually nothing for ceaseless effort.

But who the hell fulfills any of these criteria at a typical American job, let alone all three? Gladwell's formula might be accurate, but it is essentially inapplicable: In America, our employment system is not designed to grant autonomy, complexity or fair rewards. To the contrary, it is designed to suppress autonomy, eliminate complexity and pay the least for the most effort. This is the sad truth. And it is no one individual's fault: It is the fault of private capitalism and its tendency to instrumentalize human beings for private profit. And this is also why no one is really "happy" at their job, at least under the Gladwell criteria.

Gladwell's criteria are antithetical to a private employment system committed to corporate profit. In America, most working people are corporate employees. That means that they serve an incorporeal legal entity that is, in turn, established to enrich those who own it. As such, they are mere pawns in a vast machine that is not working for them; it is working for the shareholders. Indeed, they are not just practically working for the shareholders. They are legally bound to act in their interest. Corporate employees are "fiduciaries." That means they must set aside their own personal interests to serve the corporation. If they put their interests first, they could face a lawsuit for "breach of loyalty."

In this environment, "autonomy" is anathema: Corporate employees must know their place in the hierarchy. They do not control their working lives. They receive orders from supervisors, branch office managers and other "higher-ups." They do as they're told, not as they want. While they might have "illusory" autonomy over a few meager peons in the mail room, in reality they are just pieces in a larger corporate jigsaw puzzle. They have no autonomy. They are instruments. In this light, it is impossible for the vast majority of American employees to meet the "autonomy" prong of Gladwell's analysis. As such, they cannot be "satisfied with their jobs."

Private capitalist employment systems also make "complexity" an impossible goal. In most corporate settings, employees exist for a single reason: To perform a discrete task calculated to maximize corporate earnings. Companies do not expect complicated thinking or novelty from their employees; they expect employees to learn their role and do it every day--forever. After all, companies operate under the so-called "profit principle." They expect a certain profit every month, and they hire employees to carry on the operations necessary to win that profit. If the employee deviates from his expected role, he threatens the profit margin. That is unacceptable. As such, employees cannot rightly insist on "complexity" in their jobs. That would contradict their purpose in the corporate scheme. They exist to do one thing: Process claims; answer phones; file papers; send mail; appear in court; put shoelace in shoe; hammer nails; the list goes on.

Employees are like machine parts. What good is a cog if it insists on being a wheel? Cogs must be cogs and nothing else. That is how our system works. And that is why it is impossible to achieve "complexity" in most American jobs. It would undermine the entire reason why employers hire people: To transform them into single-minded profit generators who do a simple task and no more.

Finally, our private capitalist system also heavily disfavors a "connection between effort and reward." Companies do not employ people to pay them what they think they deserve. Rather, companies exist to generate a particular profit level for their owners. To generate that profit level, managers must examine two factors: Income and expense. Employees are an expense. But they are necessary to generate income, too. Thus, employees represent a "profit balancing act" in the corporate scheme. They must be paid; but never so much that their salaries threaten the expected profit. Employee effort has nothing to do with it. It is all about numbers-crunching to satisfy the shareholders. While a happy employee would certainly like to get money commensurate with his long hours, employee satisfaction is not the goal. Employers don't care whether their employees think they are getting a fair deal. They don't care whether employees feel that they are getting comparatively nothing for their effort. None of that matters. Only the profit margin matters. In that light, almost no American employees--or any employees in a strictly capitalist system--can insist on a "just" connection between their effort and reward. After all, it is not about them. It is about the shareholders.

Considering all these things, it is no wonder that almost no one "likes their job" in the United States. Those who say they like their job are probably just being dishonest with themselves. Perhaps they meet one factor from Gladwell's test and mistake it for true happiness. Maybe they get to perform a novel new task every Thursday and now think their work is "complex." Maybe they have a few college students to supervise and now think they have "autonomy." Or maybe they got a $500 Christmas bonus for working 2500 hours last year, and now think they have a fair "connection between effort and reward." Yet these are all illusory "achievements." They do not change the system. The employee remains firmly under the corporation's control. And he remains instrumentalized: He exists solely to generate profit in exchange for the smallest paycheck possible in the circumstances.

Some will say I am exaggerating how many people cannot meet Gladwell's test for "work happiness." Some will say that only certain job "classes" cannot achieve autonomy, complexity and just reward for effort. But I know from experience that so-called "better jobs" are no more satisfying than "lesser jobs" under Gladwell's standard.

I was a lawyer. People think that lawyers are all rich and have wonderful working lives. They are "professionals," so they must have autonomy. They are highly educated, so they must encounter interesting, new and "complex" work every day. And they obviously must make a lot of money from their effort.

Yet that was not the case: I was a pawn in our law office. I had virtually no autonomy. I had to follow instructions from senior lawyers and the firm's boss. I received harsh criticism and discipline for failing to know my place. I was reprimanded for suggesting novel ways to approach old problems. In short, I was low on the totem pole. I did not control my own destiny. And it felt really bad.

Neither was my work "complex." I did the same things every single day. I filed papers, I made phone calls, I met with clients. Then I consulted with my boss and we discussed how to make the most money from cases. True, the work involved technical expertise that I learned in law school. But it was all dismally formulaic. It was horribly boring and stressful at the same time. It was always the same. There were knee-jerk responses for every type of case. We even sent the same standard questions to opposing counsel in every case. The details may have changed from case to case. But the overall structure was gruelingly banal. There was no "complexity." To the contrary--and applying Gladwell's contrasting term--it was "mind-numbing repetition."

And I certainly did not receive a reward to equal my effort. I made $50,000 a year in the law firm, without regard to the number of hours I worked. I was at my desk every morning before 8. I normally stayed in the office past 6:30 every evening. I even worked weekends. I brought work home. Yet no matter how much I worked or how much I won for the firm, I got the same lousy $50,000. To add insult to injury, I got a $50 bonus for Christmas after breaking my ass all year for more than 60 hours a week. My friend got nothing, so I guess that made me "lucky." In short, there was no connection between my effort and the reward I received.

I mention all this to show that every working person in America faces the same insuperable challenges. Lawyers and Fed Ex deliverymen grumble about the same thing. They are both dissatisfied with their work because they are instruments in the same private capitalist system. The same "profit principle" applies to them. And the "profit principle" does not exist to make workers happy; it exists to enrich owners. That is why Gladwell's test for "work happiness" is hopelessly utopian. Our system does not exist to grant workers autonomy, complexity or fair rewards. It strips away those things because they are inconsistent with the profit principle. If workers suddenly had autonomy, complexity and fair rewards, corporations would start losing money. That would be unacceptable.

In the end, it does not matter whether people are happy with their work. Sigmund Freud wrote in Civilization and its Discontents that human beings have a "natural aversion to work." Strachey, trans., p. 30, fn 5. Additionally, they can never achieve the autonomy, complexity and just rewards they seek from it. People not only just don't like work; they can't get any satisfaction from it once they begin it.

People aren't supposed to be satisfied with their work. Our system is not designed to satisfy workers. And it functions just fine without satisfying them. In fact, it would break down if it did. In that light, Gladwell's criteria for "work satisfaction" are all well and good. It's just that our system works strongly to ensure that no working person ever fulfills them.

No, the only people who enjoy autonomy, complexity and just rewards in their work are the wealthy owners, employers and entrepreneurs. These are the true capitalists. These are the men who instrumentalize others. These are the men who take home the profit after cutting the paychecks. They control their own destinies. They don't listen to anyone but themselves. They get to do different stuff every day. And they set their own salary. They get it all.

There just aren't that many of them. They don't want newcomers in their club, either. So they keep membership low. That leaves more goodies for them.

They might be miserable, wretched, contemptible, exploitive fuckers. But at least they fulfill Gladwell's factors. They are satisfied with their work. Hey, if you had a mountain of money, called all the shots, did whatever you wanted all day and paid yourself a mammoth salary, wouldn't you be satisfied with your work, too? You know you would.

But that's not you. So shut up, get back to your desk and await further instructions from your supervisor.

HOW TO BREAK UNHEALTHY ATTACHMENTS TO PEOPLE

OESTERHOUDT ON RELATIONSHIPS

People often approach me for relationship advice. I don't like to flatter myself, but I'm good at it. I know a thing or two about human beings and their capacity to live with each other. I have credentials. I have been in a committed relationship for eleven years and I have endured every emotional, physical and sanity-damaging challenge you can possibly imagine. Along the way, I have coped with jealousy, envy, longing, lust, passion, disappointment, infidelity, vanity, heartache, reconciliation, misunderstanding, rage, sleeplessness, abuse, frustration, ecstasy, contentment, simple joy, tension and anxiety. I have even weathered trying health troubles at my partner's side, like unforeseeable life-changing accidents and mental illness.

When it comes to living with another person, I've been around the block. I'm not a boy anymore. I'm a man. That's not a boast. That's a fact.

In many cases, people ask me whether they should transform pleasant acquaintances into lasting relationships. Others ask me how to overcome consumptive attachments they develop to people, then the terrible disappointment that flows when their love interests do not reciprocate their devotion.

These are related situations. They arise frequently. When a person tries to force a relationship onto another level, a power struggle ensues. One person wants something the other might not. This leads to a disparity in desire, as well as wishful thinking and blind faith that the other person is acting in accordance with your fantasies. In short, it is emotionally dangerous. When you start expecting another person to act the way you imagine they will, you are setting yourself up for heartbreak or worse.

I did this in my first love. I became very close friends with someone when I was just a teenager. I loved our time together. We had a very special friendship and I felt respected whenever we met. Eventually, my feelings grew stronger. I wanted a romantic relationship. I started believing that he did, too. He really didn't. I wanted him to love me the same way I loved him. I turned it over in my mind all the time; it kept me up at night. I wanted to talk to him all the time, but I didn't want it to seem that I was the only one making the phone calls. So I would wait around for days at a time wishing that he would call me; and of course he didn't. When he finally did call, my heart would race and I would stumble on my words. I felt that I was speaking to my savior; he had all the power over me. It was just pathetic. I was slavishly dedicated to him even though he never gave me the reciprocation I craved.

It took me several years to break my attachment to this person. I wasted so much psychic energy on an illusion. I will never do it again.

Now I see clearly what I did wrong. I created a whole mental patchwork of fantasies about my friend. Those fantasies overwhelmed my mind. I expected my friend to act in accordance with them. It was unrealistic, of course, but when you're craving a person's love, you do not think reasonably. My mistake was this: I fell in love with a subjective fantasy image, not a real person. And when the real person did not act according to the fantasy script in my mind, I felt crushed. I expected too much; and I learned that people are basically inscrutable: They rarely act the way you really want them to.

My youthful attachment to my friend was unhealthy for another reason: It led me into slavishness. I hung on his every word. I followed his every action with total devotion. I delivered my fate into his hands. Whatever he did, I followed. I gave him all the power because I wanted him to give me what I wanted. I wanted him to love me so much that I sacrificed my own dignity and spirit to win his affections. I stumbled on my words when I was around him because he was my mental master. I wanted too much. That made me slavish.

I did not break my attachment to this person until I stopped wanting what he had to offer. And that is the lesson: If you have an unhealthy attachment to a person and they are not showing you the love you want, you must convince yourself that they have nothing you want. Once you do that, you will stop obsessing about them. You will regain your peace of mind and dignity. You will reorder your desires and think clearly again. True, it is hard to do. But you will thank yourself if you can pull it off.

Let us try to understand how this works. We develop unhealthy attachments to people when we WANT something they have. "Want" is the most important word in our mental lives. It expresses our truest desires. It honestly discloses who we are. No one controls what we want; our personality dictates it. We are never so happy as when we get what we want because it satisfies our deepest, most personal yearnings.

Problems arise when we want something that only another person can give. In this case, we cannot easily address our wants because we cannot directly slake them. And because the other person has what we want, we make concessions in order to entice him to give us what we crave. We indulge him far more than we should. We bow, scrape, flatter and stumble on our words. We make our love interest our master; he has power over us because he has the discretion whether to grant us what we want. That is unhealthy. It leads us into despair because we willingly enslave ourselves to his will. Disappointment and frustration become our dominant emotions. We never get what we want. And we are crestfallen every time our love interest does not act the way we expect--which is much more often than we'd like.

But there is a way to overcome this cycle. To break the attachment, you must engage your reason. You must take control over your own desire again. You must convince yourself that the other person has nothing you want. If you can do that, the other person loses his authority over you. He becomes indifferent to you. You get to say what you want, not him. You can pursue your own desire again without a fickle middleman. That is freedom in the purest sense.

I know it is difficult to do this when you are caught in an unhealthy attachment. It is hard to engage your reason when you are contorted with unrequited desire. But it is worth the effort. It helps to have a distraction that breaks your incessant attention to your love interest. In my case, I met someone else who took my mind off my obsession. It helped me turn my mind away from its destructive focus on unattainable affection. Within a few weeks, I felt free again. It was wonderful.

If you ever find yourself with an unhealthy attachment to another person, think about why you feel the way you do: You want what the other person has. You put your happiness in his hands. You heap unrealistic expectations on the other person and you disappoint yourself every time he acts some other way. You give him total power over the way you feel. Conceptually, it is easy to understand. To break the attachment, you must simply stop wanting what he has to offer. Once you control your own wants again, no one will ever tyrannize you with frustration and disappointment. And life feels much better when you're not frustrated.

A LITTLE ENCOURAGEMENT FROM NIETZSCHE

A REFLECTION

Sometimes I wonder what all my writing will lead to. I never intended to make a career from my writing. People tell me: "Go write a book." But then they say: "You need to have a story that people will like, etc., etc." In other words, to be a successful writer I need to stop wandering and get focused. If I want a bestseller, I need to Grishamize.

If you read my blog, you know I'm no John Grisham. I simply write what occurs to me. But my writing is thematically consistent. An identifiable core runs through everything I write here. I think it's possible to glean my life philosophy from the topics I choose to discuss. That might not be a recipe for bestselling commercial writing. But what have I ever cared about commerce? If anything, I recoil from it. I'm an Aristotelean in that regard: Philosophy and commerce just don't mix.

Still, it's a lonely road sometimes. I look at authors who achieve commercial success and wonder why no one ever notices me. Maybe I am just too weak or too preoccupied to promote myself. On the other hand, I know that most Americans really don't care about--or care to think about--the issues I typically address in my writing. So my commercial non-viability is really twofold: (1) I do not promote; and (2) My substance is largely unpalatable.

To be clear, I am not complaining. It is exciting to write only about things that stimulate me. For the longest time, I lived life without commenting on it. Commentary simmered in my mind all the time; work just never gave me a chance to write it all down. This blog has given me the chance I always craved. It has transformed me. So even if this blog does not pay me in U.S. dollars, it pays me in emotional satisfaction. If I die tomorrow, people would know who I am. My voice would not be lost. This blog is as much a testament as it is a forum.

I always find inspiration and encouragement when I need them most. Yesterday, I sat thinking about the fact that no one will ever read what I write, at least not in my lifetime. It frustrated me a little bit. I even thought about my philosophical archetype, Friedrich Nietzsche. Nietzsche never achieved commercial success in life, either. His books barely sold a thousand copies. When he was 45, he lost his mind and never recovered. He died young. I don't think I'm losing my mind yet, but I identify with what happened to Nietzsche: I am defiantly proud of the fact that I am anti-commercial; but it nonetheless hurts to know I will likely never receive wide recognition.

So I felt a little down yesterday. It was cold, gray, windy and rainy outside. I reflected on how poor I am. I can barely pay my rent. In fact, this month I can't even pay it at all. I need to budget out my money to buy food. Plus I need to care for Steve, who is incapacitated. It pretty much sucks. I still experience joy these days. But it only peeks through like tiny patches of blue sky on a very cloudy day.

I decided to crack open Nietzsche's Human, All-too Human. I paged through the aphorisms. I stumbled on this one: "121. A Vow--I do not want to read any more authors about whom people say: 'He set out to write a book.' Rather, I only want to read authors whose thoughts became a book by accident."

Is this me? It sure sounds like it. I just write my thoughts. I never set out to write a book. I simply allow myself to pour out impressions on things that fascinate me or incite me. There is consistency in my thoughts. But they do not reflect a conscious plan to "write a book" in the conventional sense. Could they "accidentally" become a book? Perhaps. As a whole, I like to think that this blog resembles a collection of Nietzschean impressions. Nietzsche's unconventional thoughts transformed into books. Perhaps mine can too.

That was encouraging. Without even trying, I fit into the category of "authors" whom Nietzsche might have wanted to read. I am not one of those authors who "set out to write a book." I do not sketch plots or try to cram my writing into a conventional format that people like. I am not John Grisham. John Grisham's thoughts do not become a book "by accident." No, when he sits down to write, he knows what book it's going in. He's just fleshing out the formula he laid down before he starting writing.

I'm glad I stumbled on Nietzsche's aphorism when I did. I was feeling low and worthless. I was losing hope. But after discovering that Nietzsche, too, faced similar struggles in his time, I felt encouraged to face mine. I felt freshly secure in my writing. It did not bother me that I am not a bestseller. Rather, I felt hope that perhaps one day--like Nietzsche--my thoughts would "accidentally" transform into a book. That thought brightened me, even if the "book" appears after I die. I do not really value my life too much anyway. I would rather have people remember my thoughts than my "too too solid flesh." As the Germans say: "Wer schreibt, der bleibt" : "He who writes remains."

I blog because it is the only way for me to publish without editorial control or commercial pressure. Nietzsche wrote longhand and hoarded his writings in his desk. He found a publisher who printed a few editions. I can publish over the internet, even if my audience is small. At least it's something. And I will continue. That is my vow.

GAMBLING ON HAPPINESS : LOVE, KNOWLEDGE AND RISK

AN ESSAY

For three years, my close friend Joe Simeone composed an operatic adaptation to the 1952 play "Dial M For Murder." Last week, I attended an opening in which he presented several passages from his work. In brief, the opera follows the same intricate plot as the play: A man named Tony blackmails both his wealthy wife, Margot, and another man named Lesgate; Tony exploits the blackmail to entice Lesgate to murder his wife; the plan goes wrong and Margot kills Lesgate in self-defense; Tony manipulates the evidence to pin the murder on Margot; the police arrest Margot and she is sentenced to death; an enterprising police detective worries about the verdict and discovers that Tony orchestrated the result; Margot goes free and discovers her husband's betrayal.

Through the operatic form, Joe Simeone tells the story with a keener eye for emotion than plot. He did not compose an "operatic thriller;" he composed an opera. As such, he explores the emotional relationship between Tony and Margot with greater detail than the play. At the outset, Simeone tells us that Tony's and Margot's marriage was "loveless," but that Tony had recently begun to shower affections on his wife. To make that point, the opera begins with a sweeping aria in which Margot reveals that she has "rediscovered" her love for her husband. This is ironic, of course, because Tony has already betrayed her; he is even planning to kill her. During the aria, Margot sings a remarkable line: "It's a risk to believe love is real."

Margot may seem naïve for daring to believe that her devious husband actually loves her. But she is not alone. We all want love in our lives because love is a tantalizing pathway to happiness. Yet love is a troublesome thing because it cuts in two directions. We can love and we can be loved. Real happiness exists only when both elements find expression in a relationship. When only one person loves, the result is unrequited disappointment because the other does not return the feeling. And when only one person receives love, the result is awkward discomfort. Put another way, love only really "works" when there is no disparity between the emotions on both sides.

Sigmund Freud said as much. In Civilization and its Discontents, Freud explained that human beings generally "strive after happiness; they want to become happy and remain so." Civilization and its Discontents (Strachey, trans. p. 25). He went on to explain that happiness has both a "positive and negative aim," namely: "[the] absence of pain and unpleasure and the experiencing of strong feelings of pleasure." Id. Additionally, Freud noted that happiness cannot arise as long as unhappiness exists in a person's life. And unhappiness is "much less difficult to experience" than happiness. Id. at 26.

Freud identified three main sources for unhappiness: (1) our own bodies, which are doomed to aging, pain, discomfort and decay; (2) the external world, which can "rage against us with unimaginable forces of destruction;" and (3) our relations to other men. Civilization and its Discontents at p.26. He went on to say that unhappiness flowing from our "relations to other men" represents the worst possible unhappiness: It is the unhappiness of betrayal, deception, unfaithfulness, personal disappointment, spurned love, heartbreak, frustrated yearning and all the other bitter emotions that arise when our relations with others do not follow the path we wanted.

If so much unhappiness can flow from relationships with others, why do people bother with them? Freud posed the same question. He offered one surefire way to avoid "relationship unhappiness:" "Against the suffering which may come upon one from human relationships the readiest safeguard is voluntary isolation." Civilization and its Discontents at p. 27. He called this the "happiness of quietness." By eliminating a source for unhappiness, a person makes it easier to experience happiness.

But Freud acknowledged that "voluntary isolation" is not very satisfying. After all, mere freedom from unhappiness is nowhere near as fulfilling as experiencing positive happiness. For that reason, Freud explained that human beings constantly gamble on love to satisfy their "passionate striving for a positive fulfillment of happiness." Civilization and its Discontents at p. 32.

Put another way, freedom from unhappiness and pain is not enough. People want the ecstasy and joy that flows from real, positive happiness. And positive happiness flows most strongly from that most dangerous category: Relations with other men. Still, the potential emotional payout from love is so great that people all too willingly take their chances with it. Nonetheless, Freud warned: "The weak side of this technique is easy to see; otherwise no human being would have thought of abandoning this path to happiness for any other. It is that we are never so defenseless against suffering as when we love, never so helplessly unhappy as when we have lost our loved object or its love." Id. at 33.

Against this background, Margot sang more than she knew when she observed: "It's a risk to believe love is real." Love is an extremely dangerous risk. When a person dares to abandon himself to love, he makes himself "defenseless against suffering;" he even risks "helpless unhappiness" if he does not get the emotional payout he expects from the relationship. Worse, these unhappy results depend exclusively on "relations to other men." Specifically, the "love pathway to happiness" depends on how another person acts and feels. We humans are subjective creatures. We know only what we sense. Facts exist only to the extent that we manifest a subjective belief in their reliability. In that light, it is very difficult to gauge whether another person feels any emotion as we do, let alone love.

Beyond risk, love is about knowledge. Freud said that love has two components: Loving and being loved. We only feel love's joy when we know another person feels strongly about us, too. It is not enough to feel strongly about another person. Rather, love's intoxicating pleasure only really arises when we are satisfied that another person feels as strongly about us as we do about them.

But how do we know that? It is hard enough to know what exists in anyone else's mind. Yet when we risk our happiness on love, we force ourselves to decipher what another person feels and thinks. This is extremely difficult; in fact, it is nearly impossible. There is no way to know for certain whether another person loves us, because we cannot literally step into that person's mind. Rather, we must examine secondary facts to make inferences about the other person's beliefs. This is an imperfect method at best, but it is the only one we have. Even direct statements from our love interest are not definitive proof of what he feels. Humans are, after all, infamously dishonest.

In this light, it is easy to see that love is no easy thing. It does not just a risk; it demands some faith, too, because the facts necessary to establish love are unknowable.

Again, the question arises: With these thematic difficulties in mind, why bother with love? Consider just how much is at stake. By daring to love, a person opens himself to boundless unhappiness and pain flowing from "relations to other men." True, if his love pans out, he feels overwhelmingly positive emotions: That is the potential payout from the "risk." But in order to experience love, a person must satisfy himself that another person feels a certain way. It is impossible to certainly know what another person feels, so love actually involves a double risk: (1) Risking the relationship in the first place; and (2) Risking that a person will feel the way you expect. Disappointment can arise from either risk. There is nothing you can really do to stop it; you can't control how another person thinks or feels. In this sense, love is also a risk because a person must entrust his happiness to the subjective whim of another person over whom he has no control. And because human beings are notoriously untrustworthy and inconstant, it almost seems an unreasonable risk.

If love is so unreasonable, then why do so many people pursue it? The fact that human beings--like Margot--blindly risk love is testament to the assertion that reason does not rule us. If human beings were entirely rational, they would probably never love. After all, rational thinking involves balancing risks against benefits. A rational mind analyzes the potential pain that could result from a transaction and queries whether the potential pleasure is worth the chance. As Freud explained, love can yield immeasurable pain. And because that pain flows from forces largely beyond our control (i.e., the whims of others), it really makes no rational sense to take the risk. Although love offers a huge benefit in pleasure, a reasonable man would immediately see that it always presents an intolerable risk in pain. That risk would invariably outweigh the benefit in pleasure.

But we know that human beings live to love. They cast reason aside. They take the risk, even though it is unreasonable. Put simply, love's emotional payout in happiness is so intoxicating that it overwhelms human reason. Love's pleasure is so hypnotic that it submerges all potential pitfalls. Among those pitfalls is the dangerous need to place individual emotional well-being in the hands of another person--and that person is probably not trustworthy. Men ignore those risks when they love because it just feels so, so good. If reason held men in check, they would never allow themselves to remain blind to the dangers. But blind they remain; they dive headlong into the risks because it just feels so damn good.

"It's a risk to believe love is real." In one line, Margot expressed the timeless--yet perilously uncertain-- human quest for love. She hinted at the risks. She knew there was a danger. But love made her feel so good that she willingly blinded herself to it. She suspended her reason. Objectively, that might appear foolish. But we all have done it. And we probably always will. Love is never objective.

In short, we all desperately want positive happiness. We are not content with the "happiness of quietness." No, we crave "relations with other men." We gamble on positive happiness by playing familiar games. Those games are rarely reasonable. In fact, most are extremely dangerous.

Love is probably the most dangerous game of all: Enticing, risky, unknowable, unverifiable, tempestuous, fickle, maddening; yet offering pleasure beyond imagination. It is a recipe for unreasonable risk every time.

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A WORD FROM OUR SPONSORS

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Don't be afraid to get some problems. Many people think that it is smart to avoid problems. They are wrong. Problems make us stronger. They make us react more quickly to unfamiliar situations. And that sharpness translates into success in family, careers and money. Ask any successful man and he'll tell you the same thing: You need to face adversity before you make it to the top. Life is not a bowl of cherries. You need to have problems to really distinguish yourself.

We understand that it is difficult to know where to begin. Purchasing your first problem is a major life decision. You can't just rush into a problem, nor can you buy a problem that is too big. You need a problem to suit your needs and your personality. True, some people are born with problems. Some people have problems the moment they leave the womb, like deformed children. But not all of us can be so lucky. For those who need problems later in life, you can exercise your own judgment before deciding what problem you want. It's an individual choice. And we're here to help.

Before buying a problem, you must ask yourself what you hope to gain from it. Do you want to learn financial discipline? Do you want to make yourself into an honorable person? Do you want to understand others? Do you want to evolve as a person? Do you want to learn how to be kind or cruel? Every problem will shape you in ways you never thought possible. When choosing a problem, it's all in your hands. Our trained staff is ready to help you make the best choice for your needs--and your budget.

First-time problem buyers should start slow. Here at the Problem Shop, we want our customers to get only the problems they want--and only the problems they can handle. Although it would benefit us to sell you the biggest, most expensive problem on the shelf, we know it would not benefit you. In that light, we care about you. We do not want to sell heroin addiction, mental illness or terminal disease to a bright-faced young college student. Nor do we want to sell paraplegia to a 15-year-old. These are expensive problems. They are hard to handle. We would prefer to sell them to older folks who already have some experience dealing with problems.

So come on in for a free consultation. If you've never had a problem before, talk to us. We can offer you heartbreak following a kiddie crush for only $19.95. Or perhaps debt collection letters for a small bill, again for only $19.95. Parental abuse is a bit more expensive at $24.95, but you might learn more from a parent's fists than a debt collector's incessant phone calls. But that's why we are here: We are here to provide information to help you make the most intelligent decision you can about the problems you want in your life.

Once you've experimented with minor emotional and financial problems, you can graduate to more serious ones. Our "second-tier" problems will really build your character. Your friends will never ridicule you again if you purchase a home foreclosure for $49.95 or an eviction for $54.95. They might even have pity on you. If you are really feeling adventurous, you might even buy a moderately-severe health problem, such as Crohn's Disease, for just $59.99. Or you could try a serious emotional problem, such as divorce, starting at just $74.99. Acrimonious divorces--complete with court battles, custody fights, mutual recriminations, physical abuse and death threats--are more expensive; we recommend purchasing a simple divorce before experimenting with an acrimonious one.

We run the best problem retail outlet in town. We are so certain that our problems are better than our competitors' that we will match anyone's price. If you buy a stalker for $12.99 at any of our competitors' stores, we will match that price. PLUS we'll throw in an additional problem. With us, you will not just get a stalker for your money. You will get heartache following a child's death--a $9.99 value--ABSOLUTELY FREE. That's right, you heard it. ABSOLUTELY FREE. Here at the problem shop, we will not be undersold. We take problems seriously. To show you how much we care, we even GIVE AWAY free problems. We are committed to our customers.

At the Problem Shop, we not only offer the lowest prices. We also sell only top-quality problems. Sure, our competitors might sell bargain paternity suits for $49.99. But our paternity suits are much better. With us, you not only get the agony of court process, wage garnishment, arguments with your former lover and wrangling with police officers over money. You also get the added difficulty of having to prove that you are not the child's father--and failing in that quest. Our competitors offer simpler problems. Their paternity suit is too easy. With us, you get the basic problem PLUS emotional, financial and health complications. Who else can offer that? When you're buying a problem, you deserve all the little problems that come along with it. Don't settle for less.

So what are you waiting for? Haven't you had enough ease in your life? Step up to the plate and buy some problems. Be a man. Stop living for enjoyment and comfort. Show that you can handle adversity, too. Grow as a person, will you? Get off that couch and buy a debilitating accident for just $149.99. Show that you can get over the emotional turmoil that flows from losing a limb for just $159.99. Lose a parent for a special introductory price of only $99.99. Suffer unjust persecution and racial hatred for $199.99. Get some real problems and grow as a person.

No one will remember the guy who sits around in comfort. They will remember the guy who faced unimaginable difficulty and survived. If you act NOW we will even sell you a DOUBLE PROBLEM for one low price, such as our special Marital Betrayal/Homicide package or Sexual Dysfunction/Suicidal Depression combo.

Stop waiting. Buy some problems TODAY. Don't let our pricing scare you away. We offer competitive financing to all those who apply. There are no credit checks. There are no hidden fees. There are no contracts. There is no obligation. There is no "catch."

At the Problem Shop, we have a simple philosophy: Everyone who wants a problem should get one, regardless of their ability to pay. If you act NOW we will sweeten the deal even more. Starting TODAY, we offer zero-percent interest financing through 2014. That means you can buy sudden spousal disability with a lifetime homecare commitment TODAY for NO MONEY DOWN. No, you didn't imagine it. We meant what we said: NO MONEY DOWN. You won't owe us a dime for your problem until 2014. This is not a joke. Act TODAY and we'll even throw in a collector's edition coffee mug featuring the words "YOU THINK YOU GOT PROBLEMS?" ABSOLUTELY FREE (that's an $8.99 value).

So do yourself a favor. Start thinking about yourself for once. Don't be afraid. Come on down to the Problem Shop and pick out the problem that is right for you. Our friendly, professional sales team is ready to assist you. You can do so much with your life; we have a problem to match every lifestyle. It is never too early to complicate your existence. It is never too early to start worrying and suffering. Here at the Problem Shop, we can guide you in the right direction. We offer every imaginable life problem. If you want to be un-friended by a love interest on a dating website, we've got you covered. If you want to find out you have cancer, we've got you covered. You name the problem; we deliver.

At the Problem Shop, no problem is too little. We can sell it to you at an affordable price, every time. We even offer FREE SHIPPING!

Stop making excuses. Stop being happy. It's time for some problems. It's time for some challenges. You need adversity in your life. You want to grow as a person, don't you? And you want that free coffee mug, don't you?

AMERICANS UNITED TO RESOLVE EVERY SINGLE LIFE PROBLEM BY CUTTING A CHECK IN THE APPROPRIATE AMOUNT

By : Mr. Sidney J. Bookings, C.P.A., Chairman and Senior Spokesperson; Graduate, University of Pennsylvania (Accounting Program 1982); Consultant in Wealth Management, Morgan Stanley & Co. (1983-2002); Founder, Bookings, Holderman & Petty, P.C., an Accounting Firm servicing Fortune 250 Companies; Statistics Enthusiast; Married.

According to an old adage, "money can't buy happiness." Throughout our society, we learn that emotional satisfaction only derives from human contact and genuine spiritual fulfillment. But we, Americans United to Resolve Every Single Life Problem by Cutting a Check in the Appropriate Amount, disagree. We do not believe that happiness is about emotion. Nor do we believe that happiness is difficult to obtain. Rather, we believe anyone can find happiness as long as he or she receives a sufficiently large check in the circumstances.

Unhappiness stems from problems. In many cases, money causes problems. In those same cases, problems go away when the person obtains a sufficiently large monetary amount. Checks represent a written instruction to a bank to pay a person ("the payee") a fixed amount of money at a definite time. See, e.g., Uniform Commercial Code (U.C.C.) Article 3, § 3-104(e). In that light, it is not necessary to supply "emotion" or "comfort" to a person suffering from a problem. Rather, the person merely needs to receive a check in an amount necessary to alleviate the problem. Once the problem dissipates, so does the unhappiness. And when unhappiness disappears, happiness replaces it. That is why we believe that checks in the appropriate amount lead to happiness.

Evidence supports our position. Consider the unhappy man who struggles at two jobs to pay rent, child support, medical expenses, credit card debt and a car note. "If I only had $15,000 next month, I would be able to pay these back charges. I would feel so much better if I wasn't so worried about these bills, etc." This man is unhappy because he has not paid identifiable financial obligations. In these circumstances, emotional tenderness or even love will not make him feel better. He needs money. Thus, a check for $16,987.23 offers him an almost magical gateway to happiness. Not only will a check in that amount redress his problem in full, but it will also give him an additional $1,987.23 to spend on himself. In this way, we see that checks in the appropriate amount not only dispel problems, but also bring genuine happiness.

But checks can only bring happiness if they authorize payment for the appropriate amount. This inquiry depends on the circumstances. For example, if a woman gives birth at a hospital without insurance and racks up a $2,987,712.65 bill, a check for $45.00 will not redress her problem. In this sense, a check alone does not resolve her problem; only a check in the appropriate amount will resolve her problem. As much as we like checks, we acknowledge that a check's happiness-inducing qualities only arise to the extent it authorizes payment in the appropriate amount. Problems exist when people owe a particular amount. Unless a check authorizes payment for that amount--or a greater amount--it does not yield its maximum happiness-inducing effect. As Americans United to Resolve Every Single Life Problem by Cutting a Check in the Appropriate Amount, we insist that our checks pay us the right amount, every time.

Despite checks' proven ability to solve problems, there are those who claim that a check--no matter its amount--cannot solve certain problems. These critics say that no check can make a crippled man feel better about his body, nor can a check repair the emotional pain that flows from heartbreak, loss or depression.

We disagree with all these assertions. For one, a check might not restore a legless man to health. But a check can symbolically make him whole. If you can't get your legs back, it's better to be legless with a $50,000 check in your hand than legless with no check in your hand. Second, while a check might not completely repair the emotional damage that flows from human relationships, it certainly can mitigate any emotional problem. For example, the most heartbroken man would feel a lot better if he unexpectedly received a $10,000 check in the mail. It is always nice to receive an unexpected check. It can brighten anyone's day, no matter how many problems they face. And if the check pays the appropriate amount, it can dispel any problem.

Although checks in the appropriate amount can solve any problem, checks paying an inappropriate amount occasionally cause unhappiness. For example, let us assume that a man suffers an automobile accident and pays $5,797.23 for repairs. He then receives a check from his insurance company paying only $500.00; the check will not induce happiness. To the contrary, it will induce anger, frustration or even unhappiness. But this is not the check's fault. Checks only cause negative reactions when they pay an inappropriate amount. By contrast, if the check in this man's case had paid $5,900.00, he would not have been angry, frustrated or unhappy. Rather, he would have felt relieved, excited and joyful. In essence, this illustrates a key fact about checks: They induce happiness and solve problems when they pay an appropriate amount, but induce negative reactions--and even unhappiness--when they pay an inappropriate amount.

We support checks' happiness-inducing qualities. We believe that checks should be a force for good in our society, not worry. To that extent, we stand for checks in the appropriate amount. As all the examples above show, Americans have problems. In all those examples, we saw that a check in the appropriate amount solves those problems, even when the problems apparently have nothing to do with money. Sufficient money sums always generate happiness, no matter the circumstances. A check for $9,000,000 will make even the saddest man happy, even if his mother, son and wife died on the same day. Greater amounts transcend any life adversity. We reject any claim that "money can't buy happiness." True, money might not literally buy happiness: There is no "Wholesale Happiness Warehouse" or "Happiness in a Box" for sale at a local outlet. But checks in the appropriate amount always remove obstacles blocking Americans' path to happiness. In our view, that is tantamount to happiness.

Tell the world that you can prevail over adversity as long as you receive a check in the appropriate amount. Stand up for your own well-being and comfort. Refuse to feel depressed any longer. Get your hands on a check in the appropriate amount. Every problem has a price; do not fool yourself into thinking that a check can't solve it. Checks can solve problems. They simply must pay the appropriate amount.

Stop making life so complicated. You just need enough checks to make your problems vanish for good. And when your problems are gone, you will be happy.

Stop the madness. Stop the delusion. Get back to basics. Join Americans United to Resolve Every Single Life Problem by Cutting a Check in the Appropriate Amount.

Don't worry. The check is in the mail.

UNCONDITIONAL LOVE IS A PRECIOUS COMMODITY--AND PSYCHIATRISTS SELL IT

A REFLECTION

I know a lot of people in therapy. Pretty soon I might join them. In one way or another, everyone deals with emotional disturbance and unhappiness in our society. Life can be incredibly painful. After all, we live in a competitive world. We basically contend with two types of people: (1) Indifferent people who want to outdo us; and (2) people we love who are biologically bound to die one day. It is stressful to cope with high stakes and loss all the time. We suffer defeats, losses and setbacks every day. Freud said that it is "much easier to experience unhappiness than happiness." Civilization and its Discontents, 26 (Strachey trans. 1961). Sometimes unhappiness grinds us into submission, no matter how optimistic we try to be. In brief, life takes a toll, even if you had a relatively stable childhood. And that's a rarity.

Yet for all our vulnerability to unhappiness and emotional pain, we strive for love. See generally Civilization and its Discontents, 33-34. We think that love will counteract our unhappiness, or at least make it more bearable. But we seek a very specific kind of love: Love without conditions or qualifications. We want love without first fulfilling others' demands or acceding to others' conceptions about "what we should be." As simple as it sounds, we want people to love us "for who we are," without manipulation or expectation. Generally speaking, expectations result at least in stress and at most in unhappiness. Expectations create a disparity between our conceptions about the future and reality. When reality does not match the expectation, we feel failure or worse. "Love with expectations" results in serious emotional pain. But love without expectations--simple, unconditional love--results in emotional satisfaction, even euphoria. That is what we want from life--strongly positive emotions--because when we feel that good, nothing else can bring us down.

But this is exactly the problem. After all, it is almost impossible to find unconditional love in society. First, our entire social structure does not really value individual happiness. Rather, it merely expects objective economic productivity and "service." Those two basic goals do not require happiness. Quite the contrary, they typically induce unhappiness. Very few people are ever happy about being "objectively economically productive" for someone else, nor are they ever happy about serving some domineering economic master. Yet "success" in our society flows from "productivity" and "service." It does not matter whether a "successful man" feels happy while he productively serves. It does not affect the bottom line. Subjective, individual feelings, in other words, simply do not matter in this objective social scheme.

But what are human beings if not feeling creatures? In the final analysis, every man and woman is a unique entity with emotions and thoughts. Emotions and thoughts are entirely subjective. While they might mean nothing to society or the economy, they mean everything to the individual who thinks and feels. Unconditional love is one of the best feelings a person can experience. Society, however, could care less about it. It is not essential either to productivity or service. This is why unhappiness is so rampant, even among people who appear "successful" and "content." They may reach "objective" standards for social success, but miserably fail to satisfy their own "subjective" emotional needs. In a word, there is much more to life than success.

We should not be surprised that it is hard to find unconditional love in our society. After all, everything has conditions attached in the merciless commercial crucible of life. A condition means something that must be fulfilled before something else is given. It is "bargain-like:" "If you cut my grass, I will give you $100." It channels behavior: You don't get the $100 if you don’t cut the grass. No one does anything for anyone else in our society without imposing some condition on performance. Conditions allow people to induce behavior in others. They allow people to tyrannize and manipulate others for their own gain. This might be perfectly appropriate in cutthroat commerce. But conditions attach not just to contracts and business deals. Rather, they attach just as often to human affections.

We want unconditional love because we are accustomed to conditional love. I read an article in the New York Times last week arguing that modern psychiatry can be explained by reference to "selling unconditional love" in a society that rarely loves, and only conditionally when it does. According to the article, living with conditional love cripples us emotionally. It said that even our parents do not often love us unconditionally. Much to the contrary, they typically want to "control our behavior" by baiting us with love. The article claimed that parents could warp their children not just by scolding and criticizing them, but also by excessively praising them. Each case implicates "conditional love." Praise creates an internal urge for conformity in a child, leading him or her to modify behavior in order to win the praise. Parents only give praise when the child acts "as they wish;" that is conditional love. Without fulfilling the condition, the parent does not praise--and does not love. Praise, then, can be just as damaging as critique.

If parents do not love unconditionally, who will? That is a serious question. If our closest relatives do not love us "for who we are," can we expect commercial actors, bosses and clients to do so? Certainly not. In fact, in commerce we never expect unconditional relationships. We always know that someone wants something from us in return for what they give. As fundamental as that "bargain imperative" may be in commerce, it is anathema to our emotional needs. We might steel ourselves to conditional relationships as we move through life. But in the process we deny ourselves the one thing that might bring us happiness. We will never find unconditional love in commerce; we will never find it in our careers. We never even find it within our own families. People always want us to act in some way that benefits them, or at least matches their sentiments. It is never enough to "be who we are." To fulfill conditions, we must always "be someone else." That leads to emotional ruin in the end.

This is the psychiatrist's niche. The psychiatrist, unlike the boss, the parent, the admirer or even the sometime friend, staunchly empathizes with his patient no matter what. He listens attentively. He does not impose his own moral or family-based judgments on the patient's choices or lifestyle. He offers the love that the patient's own parents refused to give without conditions. This is modern therapy. It is a dose of unconditional love in a world without unconditional love. Perplexingly, however, it is also a commercial relationship. Therapists do not support their patients because they genuinely want to give unconditional love; they do it because they are on the clock. In this sense, they offer "unconditional love conditional upon payment," but even that is better than purely conditional love.

Unconditional love is a precious commodity. The fact that so many people turn to therapy testifies to its pricelessness in our emotional lives. No matter how much we cynically harden ourselves to commercial realities and its myriad conditions, we always must attend to our own emotional health. Unconditional love makes us feel really good. It makes us feel better than any hard-won, competitive victory. Nothing can match it because it affirms our own personality without any effort on our part. It feels good to be loved "simply for who we are" without having first performed a song and dance to placate some demanding taskmaster.

Taskmasters surround us in life. They come in many guises. Even our own spouses and parents might force us to act in unappealing ways to win their love. When it comes to love, no one wants to compete. If we compete for love, it is not really love. We want others to love us because we are who we are, not because we do things for them. But this is a hard thing to do in a world that consistently heaps us with conditions and expectations. This society does not make individual happiness a primary goal. So it leaves us to struggle--often vainly--to obtain it.

THE HAPPY PAWNBROKER : "WHY I LOVE SECURITY INTERESTS"

By : Mr. George F. Schwender, B.S. (1984), Kankakee Community College (Financial Administration magna cum laude); High School Diploma (1980), Sheboygan Crossing High School (Prize for Excellence in Arithmetic); Owner, The Milwaukee, La Crosse & Rockford Loan Company, Inc.; Member, The American Pawnbrokers’ Union (1988-2004); Editor, I Like Loans Magazine (1990-present); Unmarried; Millionaire.

I have a good life. I am a pawnbroker and I am happy. People say that pawnbrokers are nasty parasites who prey on others’ misfortunes. They say that pawnbrokers profit from others’ misery and hard times. They say that pawnbrokers cannot love or experience happiness because they mercilessly track down debtors and sell off prized family heirlooms without a shred of concern. They say that pawnbrokers have no compassion and would sooner die than lose money.

Yet I defy the stereotypes. I am happy. I can love. I have compassion. Specifically, I love security interests.

Security interests made my fortune. Do you know what a security interest is? According to the Uniform Commercial Code, it’s an “interest in personal property or fixtures which secures payment or performance of an obligation.” U.C.C. Article I § 1-201(37). That might sound like legal mumbo jumbo, but it’s actually quite simple. Basically, it means I give you a loan. In exchange, you give me an interest in your personal property. “Personal property” means anything you can move, so I can’t give you a loan on your house. Banks do that. You don’t need to own a house to get a loan from me. Rather, you can come on down to the Milwaukee, Rockford & La Crosse Loan Company and get a loan on stereo equipment, candlesticks, family portraits, video game consoles, hickory chests, jungle gym sets, record players, old chairs, used televisions, table cloths, bottles, watches, clocks and anything else in your house, except maybe the kitchen sink or the furnace. I give you the money and you promise to pay me back. You also promise to pay me interest every month. And if you don’t pay up, I take your pledge because I own it by law. That’s what a security interest means. You can look it up in the Uniform Commercial Code, Article 9.

I run a brisk business. People always need money in a pinch. And people always have something somewhat valuable lying around the house, so they bring it down to my shop. I look it over. I do some calculations. I ask him how much he wants on it. If he only wants $100 after pledging me a $14,000 silverware set, I know he probably stole it. But if he wants $4,000 for the same silverware set, I know he probably owns it; and I make it out whether he pays me back or not. After all, I get a security interest in the $14,000 set. If he doesn’t pay me back the $4,000 I loaned him—plus 15% interest per month over 12 months—I get to take the set and sell it for $14,000. So it’s a great deal for me. True, sometimes people get emotional when they pawn family heirlooms like silverware sets. But who cares about them? I’m just trying to run a loan company. And I’ll tell you, in tough economic times like these, I couldn’t be in a better business. I’m not just recession-proof; I’m recession-powered.

I hear the craziest stories these days. People come in saying they lost their jobs and they can’t pay a medical bill. They tell me they just got divorced and can’t make a child support payment. Other people say the car company is going to repossess their car unless they pay the note. So naturally all this puts me in an excellent bargaining position. I don’t have to risk much money if the borrower is desperate. What do I care if the borrower doesn’t pay his child support with the money I loan him? That’s between him and the woman, not me and him. If he doesn’t pay me back the $175 I lent him on time, I get to keep his $1,500 golf club. Yes, people scream at me and call me an avaricious old leech. But it doesn’t faze me. I know success when I see it. If I make a $1,325 profit on a golf club for a measly $175 loan, that’s a success, no matter who calls me a heartless miser.

One woman said I would burn in hell because I took away her dead mother’s diamond ring. I hear this kind of thing all the time. But a security interest is a security interest; shrieking women and hell have nothing to do with it. I loaned her $1,000 for a very nice antique ring worth about $9,400. She told me she lost her job at an insurance company two months before and she needed the cash to pay her rent. I gave her six months to get her ring back, at 12% interest per month—that was a discount rate, too. After six months, she had only paid me $456.21; she told me she still hadn’t found a job and had gotten on welfare. So I foreclosed on the ring. She started hollering and yelling about her dead mother right in the middle of the shop. She scared some customers away. I tried to console her. I said: “Well, you got $1,000 from me. You only paid me back $456.21. By law, I can’t report your default to a credit bureau, so actually I’m helping you out. Your credit is still good. Would you like to pawn something else?”

She didn’t listen. She started saying the devil would get me one day and that I was a predator. She stormed out of the shop sobbing and even threw a pamphlet up in the air.

That’s the last I saw of her. Two weeks later, I sold her mother’s ring for $9,000. That was a good day. By then I had completely forgotten about the outburst.

I don’t allow my emotions to interfere with my loan business. But that does not mean I am not happy. Just because I keep my emotions under control in the pawnshop does not mean I do not feel happy. To the contrary, I am very happy with my life. I made $976,812 last year after taxes. My inventory is worth $1,200,000 and I have a $2,000,000 credit line through First Wisconsin Bank, N.A. I never have to worry about loaning money because I have a strong customer base. That’s the great thing about security interests; if someone defaults, you just take their stuff and sell it. It’s a beautiful thing. You win even when you lose. I feel happy because I am in a good business position and I have plenty of money for myself.

Yet people keep telling me that I am not really happy. They say that I can’t be happy because I take advantage of people every day and “peddle negativity.” They say that pawnbrokers cannot be happy because they profit from misery, and happiness cannot coexist with misery.

This is nonsense. I know how I feel. I feel happy. What does it matter how I make my money? I have been very successful in my life. I provide a valuable economic service to people in the community. I help people survive tough times with fast cash. If it weren’t for me, people might not make their car payment, even if I wind up taking their bracelets or silver chains. I feel good about helping others, even if they can’t see it. I feel happy to live in a country that allows people to make informed economic decisions without government intrusion. Yes, I’ve done well. But isn’t that everyone’s end goal? Why should I not feel happy that I have made a lot of money pawnbroking?

Frankly, I don’t buy the argument that you can’t be happy if you deal in misery. Lots of other business profit from misery, or at least involve misery. Bankers deal in misery every day. So do lawyers, doctors, accountants and even psychotherapists. Yet no one says they can’t be happy. Why do people single out pawnbrokers for dealing out misery? Making money requires misery somewhere along the line; pawnbrokers are no different from anyone else. Someone needs to lose money in order for another person to make money. That’s going to make someone miserable. That’s called “economics.”

I don’t let others get me down. Ironically, most people who say I can’t be happy are unhappy themselves because they owe me money. How can they criticize me about something they don’t even know? They are just angry because they defaulted and I sold off their jewelry to some wholesaler.

To hell with my critics; I can speak for myself. Here’s what I know: I love security interests and I am happy about it. You don’t need to love other people in order to know happiness. Quite the contrary, I am living proof that you can love security interests and still be happy. Security interests are not people. They are property interests that guarantee that debtors will pay me back for a loan. Property interests don’t talk back, they don’t cheat and they don’t suffer depression or anxiety. They don’t cost money to feed and they don’t complain. They just sit there until you sell them. They increase in value sometimes, too. And they never lose their looks or get ornery. I simply can’t understand why people say that happiness can only flow from human relationships. In my experience, happiness flows much better from property relationships. Just look at my house; I did not buy it because I cultivated nurturing “human relationships.” Rather, I bought my house because I cultivated nurturing property relationships.

Property pays. People don’t. In that light, why bother with people?

Philosophers waste so much time debating about happiness. If they only knew how simple it could be. By loving security interests, I found happiness. Security interests opened the door to happiness for me. That is my precious secret. There is no need to love people. You simply must learn to love interests in property that secure payment or performance of obligations that run in your favor. When you love security interests, you don’t care what people say about you because they owe you money and you hold their lacquered dining room table as security. When you love security interests, the law lets you take stuff away from people without consequence. Security interests immunize you against anything people will ever say about you. Security interests save you from depending on people. In my book, that is a good recipe for happiness.

QUICK WORD ON VACATIONS : EUROPE V. AMERICA

AN ESSAY

I have many European friends. We communicate all the time on a forum. During the summer, they always write about this and that journey they plan to take. They call them "summer holidays." They talk about traveling far and wide. They talk about taking four weeks off--with pay--to wander around Eastern Europe or France. Some even talk about going to China or India. In short, they talk about vacations with true relish. When they get home, they talk about how refreshed they are. They even say they do not mind going back to work after so much enjoyable time on vacation. They don't feel guilty about forcing their bosses to find replacements while they're gone, nor do they check email or phone messages while sprawled on Brazilian beaches. Put simply, Europeans know how to relax.

I can't resist contrasting these idyllic reports with horror stories about vacation time in the United States. This morning, for instance, I read about a friend who plans to take several weeks to travel through Germany and Bulgaria. He will receive pay during his trip; his boss actually encouraged him "because it's important for you to relax" and "see the world."

In response, I described the typical working American's vacation plans:

If only Americans understood the value of real vacation time. Over here, people hem and haw about taking 5 days off, compromise and wind up taking a "monumental excursion" to a water park in some god-forsaken suburb.

What's the difference, then? For starters, there's the obvious temporal difference. Europeans just get a lot more paid vacation time than Americans. Americans are lucky to get a week off with pay per year (including sick days), while most Europeans--even entry-level twentysomethings--get five paid weeks minimum. But the real difference is about power. Europeans get so much vacation time because they have relatively more power over their work lives than Americans. Over here, people feel obsequiously honored to have jobs. Like good fawns, they are prepared to sacrifice everything to keep them. It is a hopelessly servile approach; it puts full power in the employer's hands. Employers take full advantage; they dole out one week's vacation, no more. All the while, they cultivate a belief that "taking time off is bad," causing workers to feel guilty about leaving the office.

In Europe, by contrast, employers do not dominate workers as much as they do in the United States. Additionally, workers in Europe keep both government and private industry honest through spirited political engagement. When governments in Europe deliberate measures that award more power to employers, workers revolt. When Congress does the same thing in America, workers meekly stay at home and watch Monday Night Football. Given such political apathy, it's no wonder American workers have virtually nothing by comparison to their European counterparts.

Europeans do not seem guilty about taking time off, either. I think this reflects another important difference between Europeans and Americans: The mental relationship to work. In America, workers tend to revere their jobs. They want to impress their bosses, advance and succeed. To do so, they want to make the best showing they possibly can. That means doing work at all times, even on weekends and holidays. This is the attitude that resists vacations: After all, how can you impress your boss in Toledo, Ohio if you are tanning on a beach in Brazil? You're not making the company any money tanning. Americans debate with themselves about taking any time off at all. They worry about making the wrong impression. They feel guilty about foisting their job duties on some poor sot who's stuck in the office. To assuage their guilt, they simply decide not to enjoy themselves when they ultimately go on vacation. They bring laptops and BlackBerries with them to theme parks, casinos and spas. They stay in touch with work when they are supposed to be relaxing. They even try to show their loyalty by agreeing to take off fewer days than the number to which they are entitled. They travel locally, not over long distances, "just in case they need to come back in an emergency."

In short, Americans don't escape their mental relationship to work, even when they are supposed to be on vacation. It's about work, not life. And people wonder why they are unhappy.

But Europeans forget work when they go on vacation. They don't take guilt-ridden 4-day "long weekends;" they take month-long sojourns. If someone has to pick up the slack at the office, so what? That guy will get his time off sooner or later, too. They do not bring office email accounts with them. They do not return work phone calls while drinking or dancing with friends in a Warsaw discotheque. More importantly, they actually have time to unwind, "switch from work mode," reflect and experience the world. At the same time, they are not worried about their bills, nor do they worry about the boss' wrath. Their bosses actually encourage them. This is the European approach to vacations. It is about life, not work.

Americans criticize Europeans for precisely that reason: They don't care about working enough. But what has America's dedication to work really won? Americans are generally more unhappy than their European counterparts. They face more anxiety and stress because they do not have a safety net. They face more workplace guilt and obligation. True, Americans keep more of their income than Europeans. If they're lucky, they can even own more property than Europeans. But what Europeans pay in higher tax they receive in a more compassionate existence. Their high taxes finance their month-long vacations and free medical care. And in some sense, their high taxes provide them more happiness. An existence with less guilt and less obligation is a happier existence.

But America won't change its mind about vacations any time soon. Employers hold far too much power here. It is not just economic power; it is psychological power. It is deeply entrenched, too. Until Americans stop feeling guilty about abandoning their poor-paying posts for more than two days at a time, employers will continue to hold their psychological edge. That pyschological edge maintains political apathy; and political apathy keeps employers strong.

In an abstract sense, vacation time is just a proxy for the much more significant difference between Europe and America: Who really holds the power? If you feel guilty about failing to serve your economic master even though you are entitled to take time off, are you really in control of your life?

Employers in America do not just control time. They control emotions, too. That is power.

HAPPINESS, UNHAPPINESS, WORK, CAREERS AND DRINKING

AN ESSAY

When I practiced law, I learned the real meaning of the word “unhappiness.” I have garbled memories about my months in practice. Impressions flitter back to me without warning. No matter how they reappear, they put a bitter taste in my mouth. They confirm to me that I made the right decision to abandon the legal profession. They remind me just how awful I felt every day in a law office.

Before I practiced law, I never thought much about the concepts “happiness” and “unhappiness.” In my young mind, happiness was uncomplicated; it simply meant that you generally “felt good” in your circumstances and that “nothing was wrong.” Applying that definition, “unhappiness,” too, was easy to understand. It was just the “opposite of feeling good.” “Unhappiness” depended on “happiness.” If I knew one, I could abstractly imagine the other. I never considered that “unhappiness” could have an independent meaning.

It does. The mere fact that the word “unhappiness” contains the word “happiness” does not mean that “unhappiness” depends on “happiness.” To the contrary, “unhappiness” is a unique, pervasive, all-consuming feeling of malaise that darkens your entire outlook on life. It is not merely the absence of happiness; it is much more. It is a poisonous, enervating, hopeless mental condition. When you are unhappy, life appears bleak and pointless. Days pass slowly, even torturously. You just want to lie down and go to sleep. You expect bad news at every turn. When you are unhappy, you do not think to yourself: “I am not happy.” You think: “I am unhappy; and unhappiness has nothing to do with happiness.”

Practicing law made me unhappy. I could not bear to get up in the morning. I would lie in bed and pray that the minutes on the clock would not pass. From the moment I walked into the office, difficulties arose. My supervisor would yell at me for failing to make a phone call or fax something. She would reject my explanations with vague advice, such as: “You need to do better, remember more and move faster.” Of course, she never told me how to make people answer the phone or return calls. Nor could she tell me how to make the U.S. Mail move more quickly. Whenever I mustered the effort to fulfill her requests, she had a fresh rebuke for me. She called me names and told me she would dock my pay if I kept “fucking things up.” I tried to emphasize that no one had trained me. She told me to train myself by reading a 900-page “best practices manual.”

I felt disillusioned. I entered law practice after a very successful law school career. I thought my academic success would carry over into practice. It did not. Whenever I talked about legal theory, I was told to be quiet and do “case management” instead. That meant making phone calls and setting up appointments with doctors and engineers. Law had nothing to do with my practice. It was an elaborate horse-trading game that happened to revolve around a courthouse. All the while, intimidating people besieged me from all sides. My own supervisor told me I was incompetent. My adversaries called our lawsuits “baseless, stupid and worthy of sanction.” I even made judges angry because my supervisor instructed me to file idiotic motions in court. In short, I was castigated for following orders as often I was for failing to follow them. It was classic Catch-22 material.

My life degenerated into pure negativity. Nothing ever felt right. No matter what I did, I expected to be insulted, censured or criticized. I never received even one encouraging word from anyone. I remember losing interest in everything, even things I really liked. My libido vanished. Lawyers in my firm sympathized with me. But they, too, endured the same hardships I did; they had little time to worry about me.

And I could not escape. I stayed in the office for 11 hours or more for six days a week. I had no vacation time. I received cell phone calls before and after I left the office. The bad news and mean-spirited criticism never ended. Six months into my law practice experience, goodness seemed to have evaporated from my existence. It had become one grim, emasculating failure after another with no end in sight. My boss even reneged on a promise to increase my salary after six months, explaining: “You haven’t earned it yet.”

That’s when I learned what “unhappiness” really meant. I quit. It was one of the best decisions I have ever made. Since then, life has dealt me more tough cards. But at least I do not face ridicule, scorn and criticism every hour. I happier now than I was when I practiced law. In any event, I know I am not “unhappy” anymore.

Could anyone be happy in such circumstances? I remember something my supervisor said to me one Friday evening. It was about 6 PM. I was working on something that had to be done on Monday; there was still a long way to go. I knew I was going to be back in the office on Saturday, but I wanted to knock some work out before the weekend. Everyone else had gone home except my supervisor. She wanted to leave, too. So she came into my office and said: “Would you wrap it up? You’re cutting into my drinking time.”

I will never forget that. It made me seriously think about life, careers, happiness and success. Here was a successful law firm manager who divided life between “work time,” namely, Monday morning through Friday afternoon, and “drinking time,” namely, Friday afternoon through Sunday evening. When she said “I was cutting into her drinking time,” she implied that she drank at any moment she wasn’t working. For her, life was binary: Working and drinking. She must have liked drinking, because she did not like the fact that I was keeping her at work during her drinking time. If she had liked working, she would not have minded staying at work for a few more hours. But she was upset because I was encroaching on “her time,” and in “her time,” she liked drinking.

I am sure this is a common sentiment. But what does it really say about happiness and success in America? People are so proud of their jobs, especially people—like my supervisor—who achieve prominence and wealth. Yet despite this pride, they always yearn for days off so they can go get drunk. People say they love their work. But if they would prefer drinking to work, are they really being honest with themselves? Sigmund Freud wrote that intoxication is the “purest, most effective method” by which to ward off unhappiness. Civilization and its Discontents, S. 44 (Fischer Verlag, 10th Ed. 2007). Drinking “drowns cares.” If my supervisor loved drinking, she must have had “cares” she wanted to “drown.” This showed me that, beneath the collected exterior, she was somehow unhappy, too. She may not have been abjectly unhappy, but she must have been unhappy enough to want to drink as soon as she got home on Friday night. My unhappiness sprang both from my ill treatment and my disillusionment with a profession that cared nothing for the principles I struggled so long to master. My supervisor’s unhappiness came from some other source. I do not know what made her unhappy. She was powerful and had much more money than I did. She commanded people around the office and owned three apartments. Yet she was upset with me because I delayed her weekly rendezvous with the bottle.

Can we ever really find happiness in employment? It seems that every working person “lives for the weekend.” I know I do whenever I work a “traditional job.” I do not delude myself by saying “I love my job.” I do not like being a servant. I do not like sacrificing my time for a few dollars. Sure, in many cases it is necessary to sacrifice time for money. But that does not mean I like it. That is why I meticulously count the days toward Friday. During the week, a part of my mind always resents the idea that I am stuck doing someone else’s bidding for a shekel or two. Friday, however, represents a liberation from service. Working people divide their mental lives between weekdays and weekends. Weekdays are boring, stressful and unsatisfying. Weekends are exciting, free and fun-filled. The human brain does not like stress, obligation and constraint. Yet it loves freedom and fun. If it came between weekdays and weekends—and if money were not an issue—everyone would choose the weekend: Who would willingly face stress and obligation if there were no compensation for the pain? That is just the way our minds work. It is easier to be happy when you do not face stress, ridicule and failure. Even if you do not face extreme pressure at work, you still have to show up and sit in one place for over eight hours a day. Your brain would much rather be doing other things during that time, like drinking, sunbathing, shopping or surfing. That’s just the way we are, no matter how much guilt-ridden social programming we’ve absorbed to the contrary. We are trained to say “we love to work at traditional jobs.” But this is self-delusion.

Ironically, traditional jobs tend strongly to induce unhappiness. They consume time, leaving only limited opportunities for personal satisfactions. The fact that so many people—even wildly successful people—yearn to drink on Friday night is compelling evidence that people would “rather not be working” if they had the choice. More to the point, the persistent mental distinction between “workday drab” and “weekend fun” vibrantly illustrates that employment makes people unhappy. Workdays are “unhappy time” and weekends are “happy time.” It is childishly simple, yet accurate. “Weekend fun” makes us “happy.” “Weekday drab” runs us down, then thirst for “fun.” Without sufficient “fun” in our lives, we are not “happy.” We may not be truly “unhappy,” but we set ourselves up for unhappiness.

All this makes me wonder whether our entire social program even cares whether people achieve happiness. We learn to work at traditional jobs. We hear rhetoric about it all the time. It is “good” to have a stable job. It is “good” to know your place in the workplace hierarchy. It is “good” to spend your best years serving some company’s economic interests. And it is “good” to make money in the process. We hear that it is important to “be happy.” But how can we be happy if we spend 72% of our lives (ie, 5 days from every 7) wishing it were the weekend? Is it “good” to be happy only 28% of the time? Against this background, it almost seems revolutionary to want happiness 100% of the time. No offense to office workers, but if you say you are “100% happy” at your job copying papers, answering phones, staring at spreadsheets, delivering coffee and cataloging documents, I don’t believe you. I know that every Wednesday morning you secretly say to yourself: “Only two more days to go….only two more days to go.”

Happiness should not be a revolutionary sentiment. I made it my goal in life. I have experienced unhappiness. It is deeply unsettling. It makes you doubt life altogether. It makes you just want to give up. Still, avoiding unhappiness is more difficult than it seems. In our society, we learn to serve. We learn to spend our time to benefit others in order to win some monetary reward. Only a few have the freedom to spend their time as they please. But happiness lies in the power to say: “I will do what I want to do.” On weekends, working people say: “I will do what I want to do,” and they do what they want. On weekdays, they say: “I must” and they do not do what they want to do.

This is not a good recipe for happiness. Yet this is the program we’ve received from day one. When we sit in an office dreaming about the weekend, we understand just how little time we have to be happy in this world. Freud put it best when he said: “Our chances for happiness are already limited by our constitution as living organisms. But it is much less difficult to experience unhappiness.” Civilization and its Discontents, S. 43 (my translation) (Fischer Verlag, 10th ed. 2007).

When we divide our time between “work days” and “drinking days,” we obviously don’t like the work days as much as the drinking days. Yet we work much more often than we drink. Where does that leave us? Or do we drink because we work? If we do, what does that say about work? Should we defend it so proudly?

NEW IDEAS

I have been having some adventures lately. Sometimes I blame myself for not writing more. But when I don't write, I inevitably get out and start experiencing things. It's incredible how much you can experience in life when you actually have time to just go with the flow. There is comfort and advantage in stable routines. But there is occasional value in breaking them. I never shy from that option, even if it scares me at first.

I am grateful for my life. My obligations are not tremendously burdensome. I do not worry about money too much. I complain about as much as any rational human being does. Complaining is human; humans rarely actually feel satisfied, even when they should be satisfied. I have time to write and to experience new things at the same time. I'm not overflowing with good fortune, but my health is good, I have been in a loving relationship for 10 years and no major disaster has befallen me since 2007. No one demeans me, commands me or orders me to fulfill obligations. In this sense, I am enjoying relative "freedom from unhappiness inflicted by the outside world" as Freud called it.

Most importantly, I am getting new ideas. Time off means time to reflect and time to resettle things in your mind. That is exactly what I have been doing. In the next few weeks, I will explore new issues and offer some new perspectives based on things I have perceived lately. Put simply, I am assembling new memories. It is too easy to forget things in life. Holding onto experience and details is a craft. In some sense, it is intensely self-conscious. There are some things we cannot avoid remembering. But there are myriad others that slip away from us almost instantly. We can't get them back. That's why it's important to take memory seriously. After all, memory begets inspiration. So I take it seriously.

Thanks for reading. Stay tuned for more Reason, Commerce, Justice & Free Beer!

LUCKY OR HAPPY? WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE?

AN ESSAY

I often write about happiness and unhappiness. In my view, human beings long to experience good, positive feelings as much as they can in life. Freud thought the same: “What do [men] demand of life and wish to achieve in it? They strive after happiness; they want to become happy and remain so.” Civilization and its Discontents, p. 25. Yet people say they want to be “happy” without really knowing what it means. All they know is that they want to feel good more than they feel bad—or at least more than they feel physical pain. Still, “feeling happy” is complex, especially in American life. Many people cannot feel happy unless they first achieve some “subsidiary aims,” such as making money, owning property or obtaining the “right life mate.” They exhaust themselves seeking these “subsidiary aims” to such an extent that they lose sight of the end goal: Happiness. Instead, they endless obsess over the “subsidiary aims.” In short, “a means” to happiness replaces the “end.”

Money is the best example. Money is a medium; it is a means to obtain other things, things that will ostensibly bring happiness. Yet many people forget this when they set out upon “the money-making life.” Even Aristotle recognized this 2500 years ago. Interestingly, both Freud and Aristotle agree that men seek happiness in life: “…[What] is it that we say…is the highest of all goods achievable by action? Verbally there is very general agreement; for both the general run of men and people of superior refinement say that it is happiness, and identify living well and doing well with being happy.” Ethics, Book I, Ch. 4. But Aristotle expressly ruled out “money-making” as a pathway to true happiness: “The life of money-making is one undertaken under compulsion, and wealth is evidently not the good we are seeking; for it is merely useful and for the sake of something else.” Ethics, Book I, Ch. 5. In other words, Aristotle understood that money is a “subsidiary aim” that is “merely useful…for the sake of something else,” namely, “happiness.” Despite Aristotle’s warning, however, many Americans live their lives for money. They think it will categorically bring them happiness. In so doing, they are “barking up the wrong tree.” Perhaps that explains why so few Americans think they are happy. If “living for money” categorically cannot win happiness, then there is no way a true “money-maker” will ever find happiness.

If money does not bring happiness, what does? In truth, we can forgive many Americans for their error. After all, we are merely sensory creatures. We believe what we see and hear. Our senses tell us that money appears to make wealthy people happy. They appear to want for nothing. They do not worry about their rent or their bills. They drive beautiful cars, go on exotic vacations and do what they want every day. This stands in stark contrast to our own lives, in which money is a constant worry. When money is a worry, it dominates our outlook. It provides too many opportunities for suffering. In these circumstances, we cannot feel the “strongly positive emotions” that mark happiness. Freud said that the “presence of unpleasure” makes happiness impossible. Cf. Freud, Civilization and its Discontents, p. 34. To paraphrase Bobby McFerrin: When we worry, we cannot be happy. Nonetheless, we believe that if we only cast off the “money yoke,” our worries would disappear, leaving our minds free to finally experience “strongly positive emotions.” From our perspective, the rich have that freedom. That is why we think they must be happy. And that is why we think that money will automatically make us happy, too.

But this is a delusion. One must merely pick up a tabloid newspaper to see that even mega-rich superstars are not happy, either. They might not worry about bills and health care, but they find other sources for “unpleasure” in their lives: Cheating boyfriends, bitter divorces, cancer, lost contracts, sagging boobs, wrinkles, potbellies, baldness, betrayals, Oscar snubs, humiliations, criminal prosecutions for disorderly conduct, drunk driving or domestic abuse… the list goes on. Money did not cause pain here. These unhappy stars have plenty of money. Yet they clearly are not happy, either. They simply experience unpleasure from a different source than the rest.

Where are the happy people, then? If wealth does not bring happiness, what does? In America, commerce is King. This is not just left-wing rhetoric: We really think we can buy anything. Why can’t we buy happiness, too? It seems like a cruel joke. If we seek happiness but we can’t buy it, what is all this chatter about “becoming successful” and “working hard?” If neither success, nor hard work, nor money can categorically create happiness, what is the point? We work hard and attempt to become successful because we want the power to buy things. But if we can’t buy happiness, what do we have? Aristotle and Freud say that we all want happiness. At the same time, American life tells us we need to be successful. Yet the two are not consistent. Success and money do not automatically create happiness. They may provide a means to it, but they are not replacements for happiness. Happiness comes from somewhere else, somewhere within ourselves.

Or does it? Can we fool ourselves into happiness no matter our external circumstances? Can we manipulate our attitudes so that we always feel “strongly positive emotions?” To answer that question, we must examine language. While we colloquially understand that “happiness” means a prevalence of “strongly positive emotions” over “negative feelings, stress and pain,” does that mean that external circumstances play no role in the analysis? Or can we become happy by sheer force of will, despite all the ills that fate throws upon us? In other words, are happy people simply “lucky?” If they are, what does that say about all our frantic efforts to “become happy” in life? If happiness is basically just a crapshoot, why bother even trying to “find happiness” in the first place?

This is not a small concern. In English, there is a very close relationship between the concepts “happiness” and “luck.” “Happy” is an ancient English word. It derives from the root “hap,” which in turn stems from the Old English “haep” and Old Norse “happ,” meaning “convenient” or “suitable.” Webster’s New World College Dictionary, 4th Ed. “Hap” means “chance, luck or lot,” or at least an “occurrence or happening.” “Hap” gives rise not only to “happy,” but also to “happen” and “happenstance.” All these words imply purely random, chance occurrences over which human will appears to have little influence. Looking more closely at “happy,” the dictionary tells us that the word means: “1. favored by circumstances; lucky; fortunate; 2. having, showing or causing a feeling of great pleasure, contentment, joy, etc., joyous, glad, pleased; 3. exactly appropriate to the occasion.” Id. A “happy person,” then, appears to have made little effort in life. Rather, he is merely “favored by circumstances” and “fortunate” to feel the way he does. He feels “great pleasure, contentment and joy” because circumstances favor him. But why do circumstances favor him? Because he is simply “lucky?” If he is “just lucky,” does that mean he played a role in his own happiness? Or did “fate” just randomly bless him? Here, we can already see the trouble brewing. To be “happy,” our “circumstances” must “favor us.” We must be “lucky” and “fortunate.” We must benefit from “chance occurrences” and “happenstance” to be “happy.” Our own efforts seem irrelevant to the task. Put simply, “happiness” requires “luckiness.”

So what does “lucky” mean? According to Webster, “lucky” means “having good luck; fortunate.” Webster’s New World Dictionary, 4th Ed. Again, we see “fortune” at work in these concepts. Fortune involves random chance, not purposeful action. And what about “good luck?” “Luck,” like “hap,” is an ancient English word. It derives from the Indo-European root “leuk,” meaning “what bends together” or “what occurs.” That root evolved into the Middle Dutch “luk” and the German “Glück.” In German, “Glück” translates not only to “luck,” but also to “happiness.” Bertelsmann’s Deutsches Wörterbuch tells us that “Glück” means: “1. favorable, fortunate circumstances or a turn of events; a coincidence; 2. the success that comes from that turn of events; 3. a feeling of inner satisfaction and joy, especially after accomplishing sought-after wishes; 4. favorable chance (my translations).” In English, Webster says that “luck” means: “1. the seemingly chance happening of events that affect someone; fortune; fate; 2. good fortune; success; prosperity; advantage.” Webster’s New World College Dictionary, 4th Ed.

In all these words, we see an undeniable link between “chance,” “luck” and “happiness.” In German, the link is intrinsic; “Glück” means both “luck” and “happiness.” It describes not only “chance events” and “favorable occurrences,” but also the “feeling of inner satisfaction and joy” that springs from them. It is no coincidence that the English “luck” relates to “Glück.” Although the English definition for “luck” does not list “the feeling of inner satisfaction and joy” that springs from chance events, the word “happy” directly implies “luckiness.” See “happy” definition, supra. And both words relate back to the Indo-European notion that “luck” merely means that things “bend together” for a person’s benefit. Put another way, luck is random. Human will does not affect it. It blesses its beneficiaries without regard to their efforts, intentions, wishes or merits.

In this etymological light, does it make any sense to “pursue happiness?” It appears not. After all, it seems that happiness depends on luck. Luck blesses at random; it does not favor those who “really want to be happy” or who “work really hard” at it. Without “chance occurrences,” “fortune,” “coincidence,” “turns of events,” “fate” and “favorable circumstances,” we will never truly fit the “happy” definition. The word “pursue” implies purposeful action directed toward a particular object. Yet when we “pursue happiness,” we attempt to secure something that eludes human intention altogether. We cannot really “pursue” something that will happen by chance. Our best and most intensive efforts will not cause something to occur at random. At the most, we can “hope” for such events; we do not “pursue” them. We can boldly struggle to mold our circumstances by effort and toil. But if chance stands against us, it seems that we will never find happiness. Ironically, however, a person may be happy even if he makes no effort at all. As long as “fortune” and “luck” meet on his side, he will experience the “joy and contentment” that arise from his “lucky circumstances.” On some level, we all know this. We have seen examples. This is why we contemptuously dismiss some “happy people” as “lucky bastards.” It just doesn’t seem fair that circumstances “bent together for them,” but not for us. After all, we think we did more, earned more and worked more than they did. Yet they became happy because they got lucky, while we slave away without fortune’s blessings. And we certainly do not experience “great contentment or joy,” because our circumstances are not “favorable.”

But fairness and happiness do not go hand in hand. To use a cliché, life is not fair, just as random events, chance occurrences and “fortune” do not reward us all equally. This perplexes us. We learn that hard work, determination and rational behavior will bring us success, then happiness. We think we have rational control over our feelings and our destinies. We think we should be rewarded for “making all the right moves” and “paying our dues.” Yet “circumstances favor” certain people over others without regard to their merit, effort, ability or zeal. It is no answer to say that some “really hard working people” generate their own circumstances. To some extent, life unfolds without regard to human choice or will. Certain people benefit from totally random occurrences. They meet the right people at the right times. They have the right idea in the right decade. Or they simply happen to please the right person, who happened to live at the right moment in history. Others are simply born with great advantages. No calculation can presage these “chance” occurrences. Yet “luck” bestows them on some, and not others. Blessed with luck, they relish the “feeling of inner satisfaction and joy” that flows from their circumstances: They are “happy.” But they were “lucky” first.

Where does this leave us? In a word, it leaves us with the disheartening impression that we do not have total control over our lives. Benjamin Franklin and other enterprising Americans throughout our history disparaged luck, claiming that hard work and “good decisions” “manufactured” luck for them. They said: “Anyone can make it as long as they work hard.” But this, I fear, is propaganda. In my view, men like Benjamin Franklin benefited from luck and chance, no matter how hard they worked. Lord knows how many hard working people have lived on this planet who never benefited from “lucky chances.” They never became successful, famous or even happy. The lucky ones will always say: “This is how I did it… and you can do it, too!” That statement defies the very nature of luck. Luck only chooses some, not all. And it has nothing to do with talent or merit. Talent does not even increase the chances that “luck will strike.” Random means random. There is no way to influence it.

At this point, I cannot avoid discussing destiny as opposed to pure reason. I must confess that I believe in destiny, at least to the degree than I cannot rationally account for certain chance events in life. I cannot verify with my senses why I met certain people in life, why certain people lived, and others died. Quite simply, luck plays a huge role in life. And grammatically speaking, it is a prerequisite for happiness. Thus, it is a matter of chance and coincidence whether we become happy, since nothing can control the “random events” that will generate the circumstances necessary to experience the “strongly positive emotions” that flow from those lucky circumstances. Or perhaps it is destiny that determines who benefits from “chance events,” if they are even “chance events” at all. What do I know? If destiny chooses the people who benefit from chance events—and thus become happy—does that not sound like quasi-religion? There are chosen ones and there are the damned.

We all want happiness. We all want to feel good more than we feel bad. We listen to philosophers and heroes who offer us ways to find it. Yet we cannot escape grammar. Happiness turns largely on luck. Lucky people are happy. Unlucky people are not. Think about it. If some truly unlucky event befalls you, are you happy? Definitely not. Chance did not favor you. But if a lucky event befalls you, are you happy? Absolutely. You benefited from chance. It changed your circumstances and you feel great about it. Did you influence the chance events? Probably not. They would not be “chance events” if you did.

I suppose the only way to cope with luck is to cultivate a healthy respect for uncertainty in life. Maybe we will be happy. Perhaps we won’t. Yet we can spare ourselves heartbreak if we refrain from pursuing it. After all, we cannot pursue luck. And without luck, there is no true happiness. In America, this is a hard way to live. We learn that we can control our lives and we can buy anything. Yet no store sells luck or happiness. Luck can give us money, but money can’t give us luck. By the same token, money can’t give us happiness. You need luck for that.