ON THE IMPORTANCE OF AVOIDING MASSIVE CRANIAL DAMAGE TO CAREER SUCCESS IN THE UNITED STATES

TOP NOTCH CAREER TIPS

By : Ms. Vanessa H. Breaker, M.S., University of Texas (Facilities Management); Founder and Chairperson, Help-U-Advance, Inc., a Career Management Consulting Bureau (Houston, TX); Author, You Can Do It : A 10-Step Formula to Achieve Wealth, Success, Money (And Yes, Love, Too); Owner, several real estate tracts in central Texas; Married; Cowboys fan.

Recently, a college graduate came into my office and asked: "How will I ever get a job in this economy? How will I ever pay my own rent?"

I can understand his frustration. By all accounts, times are very hard out there. For people just starting out in the world, life looks intimidating. No one is hiring. No one even gets an interview. And without a job, you can't pay your rent.

But success is possible. It is possible to defy the odds and live the American dream. Anyone can learn how to be successful. There is a recipe for success: You can learn it. Successful people all behave in a similar way. They all have similar habits. By learning those behaviors and acquiring those habits, you can be successful, too. And when you achieve success, you not only get the job, you get the promotion, the raise, the bonus and the beautiful wife, too! Doesn't that sound nice? You bet it does.

So what are successful behaviors and habits? Well, let us begin by stressing that success is a lifestyle. Success is not a hobby; it is a discipline. You must eat, drink and breathe success. You cannot tolerate failure. And you must be tough: This is a race; no one hires the runner-up.

Living success begins at an early age. Successful people get on the track to success when they are children. They understand what they want from life and they commit themselves to excellence. To that end, stable households produce more successful people than broken ones. After all, a child will not develop the basic skills needed to get good grades and work hard if he or she suffers parental sexual abuse and beatings every day. Those challenges make doing math homework difficult. And kids who fail math won't go to Harvard. In that light, a peaceful home is essential to growing up successful: It allows the focus needed to "home in" on success.

Successful people do not give in to distractions. To achieve success, it is necessary to "stay on track." That means working hard, getting good grades, going to bed early, taking instructions seriously and remembering your place. Yet it is easy to forget these rules when peers goad you to go dancing on Friday night, or when you'd rather watch television shows all evening than do your homework. Put simply, distractions surround us every day. And they threaten to derail us from the success track. To resist distractions, you must simply say: "I want to be successful. I will avoid these distractions." It is about mind over matter: Forget the video games: Think about the accounting job you want.

Education is essential to success in America. In bare outline, success means getting a good job at a good company, making good money and owning property. Yet good companies do not give good jobs to just anyone; they only give them to good people with good educations from good schools. In that light, success requires that you get a good education at a good school. That, in turn, requires that you live successfully without distractions. Only children who live appropriately during childhood will get into the schools needed to get good jobs. It is not so much about learning as it is about showing: Firms want to see good grades from good schools. As long as you get into a good school and show the good grades, you will get a shot at the good jobs. It does not matter whether you remember what you learned. And you will stand no chance at all if you don’t get into a good school: Good grades from bad schools will not impress good companies.

Still, successful living means more than just getting good grades. Once you actually get a job, it is essential to observe successful habits. Successful people keep their jobs because they know what is expected. That means they understand their employer's mission and loyally advance it. They also observe decorum by dressing appropriately, speaking respectfully and refraining from all distractions while carrying on the employer's business. In this sense, successful living is all about acting appropriately on the job: Loyal workers advance far. Ultimately, they rise through the ranks. Good companies love loyal workers who suppress their own interests to earn profits for them. Self-sacrifice is a hallmark of successful living: And it is rewarded.

Intangible factors also influence career success. For better or for worse, birth has much to do with success. Wealthy children stand a better chance to live stable early lives. That, in turn, prepares them to "get on the success track" without distraction. Additionally, powerful parents who attended good schools can assure that their children, too, attend those schools. Wealthy parents can also pay large tuitions and urge employers to hire their children. In some cases, wealthy parents are the employers; and they naturally award jobs to their own blood. In this light, the importance of fortunate birth cannot be overstated. Although it is impossible to "learn" how to be related to powerful people, blood is a sure way to get a big head start in the success race.

Still, success is never guaranteed, even for people who enjoy all the advantages. After all, even a minor mishap along the path to success can sink an entire life. A student may develop a drug addiction, ruining his semester grades and costing him a job at a banking firm. A junior associate might have a relationship dispute and perform poorly at work. A promising employee might fall in love and show up late for work. A woman might give birth, requiring her to put off career focus. Put simply, things can happen in life. And they can easily knock a person off the "success track." Just one distraction can unravel a lifetime of work.

And that is to say nothing about the danger of massive cranial injuries. In the above examples, otherwise successful people gave in to distractions through some fault. In other cases, otherwise successful people might fail to achieve success simply because something massively damages their cranium.

Consider, for example, a first-class legal scholar who has done everything right. He has been born into a good family, his father was successful, he had a stable childhood, he followed instructions, he went to bed early, he dressed appropriately, he got into first-class schools and got first-class grades his whole life. He even landed a job at a first-class law firm and the managing partner said: "He is bound to be successful because he has successful habits." He worked hard his whole life and had every reason to expect success. But he amounted to nothing because someone shot him in the forehead with a .38 caliber revolver. This example proves that massive cranial injury can ruin even the most successful lives.

Consider, too, a respected office manager with an excellent salary. This man did everything for his company. He gave up personal relationships to make sure his employer profited. He worked nights and weekends as he advanced up the company ladder. Through his childhood, he followed instructions and did everything he was supposed to do. He never rocked the boat; people called him a square, but it never bothered him because he achieved success. But one day on his way to work he tripped over a piece of fruit and fell into the street, where a concrete mixing truck rolled over his head. Once again, massive cranial injury derailed an otherwise successful life.

These examples say nothing about all the potentially successful people who suffer massive cranial injury prior to achieving success. What about the countless young people who study hard for exams, refrain from drugs, avoid peer pressure and go to bed early, only to be shot in the head with rifles? What about the super interns who give up everything for the company and win glowing reviews from supervisors, only to have their brains dashed out by falling cinder blocks?

No matter the circumstances, these examples teach a clear lesson: Avoiding massive cranial injury is a crucial step on the road to success in the United States. While it is essential to learn positive behaviors to achieve success, it is also vital to avoid being fatally struck in the head while practicing those behaviors. After all, a lifetime of hard work, study, high birth and promise can be instantly destroyed by a single bullet to the brain. That is why the most successful people absorb this lesson: You must not only live successfully; you must also avoid massive cranial injury at all costs.

Massive cranial injury is a worse threat to success than distraction or inappropriate workplace behavior. After all, it is possible to rally from distraction or an office faux pas. But it is not possible to rally from having your skull crushed by a concrete mixing truck. A person's career can recover from an embarrassing extramarital affair or a "C+" on an exam. But it cannot recover from a pointblank shotgun blast to the face.

In all these cases, the lesson emerges: The real key to success in America is to avoid massive cranial injury. After all, no person who suffers massive cranial injury will ever achieve success. And any success he has achieved up to that point instantly vanishes. To that extent, massive cranial injury is the worst thing that can happen to a promising career. Interview mistakes, bad resumes, lackluster university performance and even drug abuse do not threaten careers as much as being brutally slammed in the head with a baseball bat.

You can fix a resume. But you can't fix a shattered cranium. And people with shattered craniums do not get promoted or hired.

In conclusion, if you wish to achieve success in America, remember what is important: Avoid massive cranial injury first. The rest is just details. Because even the best career habits can vanish the moment someone cracks your head open.

WHY I WRITE ABOUT TIME

A REFLECTION

In recent weeks, my writing pace has slowed. I am thankful for that. It has allowed me to look back over my work and reflect on what is important to me. No one likes change, but I welcome this one.

I write thematically. Last week, I looked over several old pieces and started to think about the themes that occupy me most. I asked myself: "Why do I write about these things? Why are they important to me? Is it apparent why they are important?" Perhaps it is apparent why I write about reason, dignity, evidence, law, power, money, death, fairness, equality and happiness. Perhaps it isn't. Perhaps people think it's just because I am a hermit who writes whatever he thinks on a certain day.

But that would be incorrect. Common threads unite all my themes. Those threads bind all my pieces together. Taken together, they present an overall philosophy about our existence. I am a consummate individualist: I never surrender who I am. I do not like to follow, but neither am I a zealous leader. I am not presumptuous enough for that. If my ideas gain traction, it is by quiet assent, not by compulsion or advocacy. In the end, I am a voice against all the forces in our society that subvert individual creativity and value. I criticize commerce because commerce is antithetical to both. I do not like forces that instrumentalize human beings or reduce them to purposes. I do not like convention. That is why I write satire, too. Normality makes me laugh--hard.

Among the threads that unite my work is a respect for time. I write about time in many ways. But in the end I admonish my readers to remember that time is vital because it is all we have. Without time, we cannot cultivate our interests or expand our personalities. Nor can we experience joy or feel good about ourselves. Yet so many forces compete for our time. When we lose our time to some competing interest, we lose the opportunity to live for ourselves. That is one reason why I am so critical of employment: Employment robs our best time and leaves nothing for us. It purports to "compensate" us for the robbery with a paycheck. But what good is pay (even really poor pay) if you can't spend it until your best time is gone? We have just a limited time to experience positive emotions before we die. If we give up our time in unpleasant ways, we never get it back to spend it pleasantly. We have only one shot at joy.

My views about time have changed significantly over the years. Before my father died in 2006, I had a very dismissive attitude about time: I always thought I would have more. I did not mind working for 14 hours a day in an office because I knew there would be time to enjoy myself later in life. I had smug assumptions; I thought life would just wait for me as I slaved away, wasting my time. I thought for sure that I would have at least 25 more years with my mother and father. I thought they could wait until I put in all that work, so it wouldn't hurt if I skipped seeing them for Christmas. I thought they would understand if I had to work a weekend.

But all those smug assumptions came crashing down when my father died. He died without any warning. In January 2006, he was a healthy 58-year-old who ran half-marathons every year. Then he developed pancreatic cancer. By June 2006, he was dead. And I had skipped his birthday every year for five years before that because I had no idea that he could die. I was focused on my "traditional career program." I did not respect time. And I suffered for it.

Thankfully, I learned my lesson. Only after living with death did I start to respect time. It made me rue the choices I had made in my life. I did not care about "success" any more. After all, what good does "success" do when you can suddenly just die at any moment like my Dad? Who cares whether you get a certain job or own a home? It's all meaningless; it can all end before you know it. Recognizing how fast life can end makes you respect time. And it makes you start spending your time more wisely, too.

Within six months after my father's death, I resigned my job at the law firm. It came to nauseate me. It probably would have nauseated me even if my father had not died. But after experiencing his death, I simply could not bear the pettiness of law practice. I could not bear hearing people whine and bicker about money. I could not bear the infighting about filing papers, sharing copy costs, managing calendars and setting docket dates. And I could not bear the ceaseless criticism about "not moving fast enough" to make profits on cases. It all seemed utterly, utterly meaningless. I did not care in the least. After all, what difference did all this make? I could just die suddenly like my father; what good what profits and docket dates do then?

When my father lay dying, he was not thinking about success, careers or money. He was thinking about his own existence. He was thinking about the fact that his time was running out; and whether he had spent it well.

I took that lesson to heart: Was I spending my time well? Or was I wasting it in a chase after meaningless rewards? I concluded that I was wasting it. I began living in the awareness of death; and that made me treasure my life. I started savoring my time. I resented anyone and anything that impinged on my time; for how was I to know whether I would be here tomorrow? I wanted to be master of my own time, because time gave me my chance to live. Obviously, this did not make me a good candidate for employment. So I had to adjust my approach to supporting myself.

I contented myself with making just enough money to feed and house myself. And I did so in a way that did not rob my time and dignity. Since then, I have been happier with my lot. For the most part, I am master of my time. That brings its own rewards.

I never forget what happened to my father. It tempers me whenever I feel the impulse to get into the "success race." I reflect on how little time I have to relish my life. Then I think how much time I will have to yield in order to achieve "career success." That is to say nothing about the sacrifices in dignity, ethics and happiness I would have to make to achieve it. Finally, I think: "Even if I do achieve 'career success,' what will I feel? What good will it do? What if I simply die on the way? When I lay dying, what will I think about how I've spent my time? Will I regret all the days and nights I toiled in an office fighting for a company's profit?"

These thoughts comfort me. They assure me that I have made the right decision for my life. Having said that, I know not everyone will make the same decision. My views about time reflect my experiences. They work for me because I live in the awareness of death. My respect for time intertwines with my respect for death. After all, life--with all the joy and misery it can write upon our bodies--hangs by a thread. It can end instantly. And life is time: There is our time, then there is death.

That is a pretty good impulsion to spend our time well. Because once it's over, we're over, too.

That is why I write about time: It is the tragic, ever-diminishing coating that encapsulates us all. When we waste it, we waste ourselves. So I choose not to intentionally waste it on anything that does not bring me joy.

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.

FACTS DO NOT NEED TO BE OFFICIAL; THERE ARE NO "REAL FACTS"

OESTERHOUDT STRIKES

I went to Starbucks this morning to buy a coffee. I wasn't really thinking about anything. I was groggy and I was battling a cold. But as I waited for the barista to serve up my venti bold, I overheard the man behind the espresso machine say to his coworkers: "Wikipedia is written by us. Those aren't real facts."

My mind immediately sprang into action. I really did not care about the man's opinion about Wikipedia. Everyone knows that you need to read Wikipedia with a grain of salt. Its reporting can be unreliable, just like any other source. But I took serious issue with his assertion that Wikipedia does not contain "real facts" because "people like us" write it, as if "regular people" are incapable of reporting "real facts."

I was saddened for two reasons. First, the barista's comment revealed the widespread--and servile--public belief that "facts" must flow from certain "official" sources. Second, it revealed the belief that "regular people" do not deserve credibility when they report "facts."

Let us begin with "facts." More than a year ago, I struggled to formulate a workable definition for "facts." Everyone thinks they know what "facts" are. They think "facts" are "things that actually happened." But it is impossible to really know whether something "actually happened" if you were not there to perceive it. Everyone else must rely on second-hand reports to form an opinion about "what actually happened;" and that opinion may not reflect what "actually happened" at all. Facts intertwine with belief; a person calls something "a fact" as long as he subjectively believes it to be true, even if it is not. A person's belief, too, is a "fact." It is a "fact" to say: "John believes that Mary robbed her mother." It is not necessarily true that Mary robbed her mother. But if John believes it, John's belief about it is "a fact."

Viewing all human existence as a whole, most "facts" are incredibly banal. It is a "fact" that I just moved my eyelid and that I just pursed my lips: I perceived these "acts" through my visual and tactile senses, so they are facts. Facts are rarely newsworthy, and almost never "the stuff of history." Yet many people mistakenly believe that "facts" must be "official." Like the barista, they believe that something is not a "fact" unless some reputable source reports it. To use the barista's term, only certain sources can present "real facts," not plebeian sources like Wikipedia.

What is a "real fact?" How does a "real fact" differ from any other fact? After all, a "fact" is any event, act or condition that is objectively verifiable and perceptible by the human senses. Your own emotional state is a "fact" at this very moment. Whether you're wearing blue jeans right now is a "fact." These are "conditions" and "acts" perceptible by human sense. The New York Times will never report these "facts," but they are still facts. Anyone can recount facts. As human beings, we all can recount our sensory impressions through memory and language. Put simply, the power to recount facts does not require a reputable press pass or an advanced degree.

Facts do not distinguish. There are only "real facts" to the extent that another person chooses to believe them. Source is irrelevant to the inquiry whether something is a fact. Source is only relevant to the question whether a reported fact is credible or reliable.

But the barista confused theses issues in a deeply troubling way. He not only manifested a belief that certain sources were not reliable. He also revealed a belief that certain sources cannot even report "facts" at all. According to the barista's logic, only reputable sources dispense "real facts." Sources like Wikipedia do not. Yet this is pure nonsense. Wikipedia definitely reports "facts." It reports "acts, events and conditions that are objectively verifiable and perceptible by the human senses." True, its reports might contain inaccuracies and falsehoods. But that is a danger inherent in all reporting. And in the end, "facts" are not about "what actually happened," but rather about "what we are willing to believe." Both Wikipedia and the New York Times face the same "factual" dangers every day when they report on matters that occurred beyond their writers' own sensory range. Both Wikipedia and the New York Times ask their readers to believe their words to be facts, no more. In that sense, they are exactly the same.

It is dangerous to believe that only certain sources have the power to dispense "facts." When people believe that only certain "official" reports deserve credibility as "facts," they disempower themselves. They yield their power to judge the truth for themselves by conditioning their belief systems on "official sources." The barista's comment revealed this servile dynamic at work. He demeaned Wikipedia because "regular people" write it, not "official sources." As such, he refused to even believe that it reported a single "real fact," as if any fact were more real than another.

Worse, the barista tacitly acknowledged his inferior station in our society's truth-creating hierarchy. Our society perpetuates the notion that truth can only proceed from certain "official" sources, like news agencies, universities, government offices, courts, churches and science labs. While those sources might deserve credibility in particular circumstances, the ultimate decision whether to believe something is entirely individual. And when people do not do their own research by investigating as many sources as possible, they subject themselves to dominant power systems. They accept some reports as "fact" solely because they flow from some exalted source, not because they verified the reports themselves.

We all can perceive the outside world. We know facts because we perceive them. We can report what we know. When we are honest, we know our word is the truth, even if we are not an "official source." We might even write an article about our knowledge in Wikipedia or some other popular publication.

Yet according to the barista's logic, we do not deserve belief. More substantially, we are not even recounting "real facts," even if we saw them with our own eyes. Only "official sources" can dispense "real facts," not regular people. That is not just weak. That is outright capitulation.

I wish more people would understand that we all can report facts as long as we can perceive and communicate. All facts are "real" as long as we believe them. And we do not have to be news agencies to deserve belief.

FAIR LABOR CONTRACTS? WHAT ARE THOSE?

THE MYTH OF EMPLOYMENT IN AMERICA

PART 3 - CONTRACTS

Commerce would not work without contracts. Contracts provide legal assurance that people will adhere to their commitments. Both commerce and the law presume that men do not naturally hold to their word. But no one would take financial risks if they knew their fellow man would not fulfill his promises. So the law supports commerce by forcing men to do what they say. If they don't, they must face dire economic consequences. Men don't like dire economic consequences, so they adjust their behavior to avoid them.

In theory, contracts reflect a perfectly equal bargain between two perfectly equal commercial parties. One party wants something the other has. Each parts with something in order to gain something from the other. It is not gratuitous; it is methodical. One party suffers detriment in the precise proportion that the other obtains benefit. And there are no flaws in the bargaining process: The law presumes that both parties are rational, shrewd, cynical businessmen who know all the risks before committing to do something. Thus, neither can complain when something goes awry: After all, when two rational, equal adults bargain for something, they have a right to delineate who bears the risk if it does not work out.

But does this sound like commercial reality? Certainly not. In most commercial exchanges, parties are not equal. One party inevitably has more money and power than the other. As a result, the stronger party can leverage his strength to foist more risk and burden on the weaker party. After all, the weaker party needs what the stronger party has. So what authority does the weak party have to influence the bargain? He can take it or leave it. If he leaves it, he does not get what he needs. That is commercial reality: A perennial Hobson's choice. The legal myth of "equal exchange between equal bargainers" is a tiny exception to the rule: Unequal, unfair exchange between parties with gross disparities in power.

I always marvel at inconsistencies between legal myths and practical realities. They always reveal a tension between theoretical aspirations and cruel commerce. After all, theory and reality follow different paths. Just because something exists in theory--as it may in legal doctrine--does not mean that it exists in reality. Theory is just an overlay. Theory concerns objective abstractions; as long as a situation exhibits a few technical requirements, it is "so." But practice is more fluid. It does not restrict itself to formulae or aspirations. In practice, the only inquiry is: "Does it work?" If it works in accordance with principle, fine. If not, no big deal.

In most cases, people just want things to work. That is certainly true in commerce. It is one thing to strike a technically enforceable contract. It is quite another to strike a just one. After all, practical realities reflect existing power structures. Things "work" when they please those who have power. Contracts are usually unfair because they work best when they are unfair. The strong offer terms to the weak in a manner that satisfies legal requirements. As a practical matter, they maintain the unequal relationship. The law has nothing to say about that. And that suits the strong just fine.

On some level, everyone knows this. Everyone suspects that contracts somehow "screw them over." They do not exactly know how. They just know that if the other guy does not deliver, they will have no recourse against him. But if you do something wrong--or if something unforeseeable happens--he will have recourse against you. This is why everyone fears "fine print." It is as if everyone who signs a contract resigns himself to the idea that the bargain is one-sided. They know the "fine print" will work against them when push comes to shove. They just hope it doesn't come to that.

So much for equality in bargaining: Everyone who signs a contract knows that he is subjecting himself to the other's unlimited authority. He doesn't even know how much power he's giving the other guy. He just knows the "fine print" gives the other guy license to do almost anything to him.

I see support for my analysis everywhere. Just yesterday, for instance, I watched a clip from the 1998 movie "Player's Club." In it, Bernie Mac plays a sleazy strip club owner named Dollar Bill. In one scene, his DJ (Jamie Foxx) enters his office to complain about how much money he has to forfeit from his paycheck every week. Bernie Mac looks him straight in the eye and says: "I got a contract between me and you that says you do what I tell you to do. Therefore, shut the fuck up. Don't say nothing, don't speak to me, don't look at me."

That concludes the negotiation. Bernie Mac is the employer with power. Jamie Foxx is the employee without it. The contract symbolizes their unequal relationship. It embodies a fundamental disparity in power. By law, it allows the strong party to tyrannize the weak one; it even allows him to silence the weak one when he complains about the terms. True, the weak party can walk away from the deal. But what if he has mouths to feed? Another Hobson's choice.

These are the practical realities. There is no "equal exchange" between "equal partners" in most commercial relationships. Rather, in most cases, the result is more like the exchange in "Player's Club": One party needs a job and a paycheck; another offers a job and paycheck in return for the power to dictate all the terms and control the employee's conduct. As a practical matter, contracts grant power to one party while subjecting the other to the same power. They generally operate in one direction. And if the weak party complains, the strong party just has to whip out the contract and explain why he has the legal authority to do what he is doing. If there's a dispute, the strong party wins. That's practical reality.

I mention all this because it coincides with my weekly motif concerning employment in the United States. Contracts perpetuate the "Myth of Employment in America" by granting legal authority to strong parties to dominate weak ones. Employment "terms" in America are rarely equal. And they certainly do not reflect full and fair bargaining between two evenly-matched commercial entities. Rather, a weak party needs a paycheck. A strong party offers one; and that gives him the right to dominate the weak party's life in exchange for almost nothing.

According to the law, contracts reflect equality. But practical realities paint a vastly different picture. When it comes to contracts, there is a disparity between law and reality. The real questions are: Who wants what; who's giving it; and who gets to say who does what in exchange for it. Those questions are invitations to tyranny. And when private employers operate under the "profit principle," do you really think they will treat employees in a way that threatens their bottom lines? Certainly not: And that is exactly why contract law allows them to function as they do.

So to all the employees out there who are disgruntled with their lot: "Shut the fuck up, don't say nothing. Don't speak to me, don't look at me."

You signed it. You wanted it (kind of). So live with it.

Go ahead and leave. Think you'll be able to pay your rent if you do? It's your choice.

That's not just practical reality. That's commercial reality, too. It's not a fair game.

YOU ARE AN EXPENDABLE (AND EXPENSIVE) INSTRUMENT : THE UGLY TRUTH ABOUT JOBS IN AMERICA

THE MYTH OF EMPLOYMENT IN AMERICA

PART 2 - PRACTICAL REALITIES

During the 2008 presidential campaign, both Barack Obama and John McCain touted their plans to "create American jobs." No matter what subject they discussed--the environment, the military, the schools--they always related it to the "jobs question." The fact that they talked so much about jobs reveals just how much Americans love jobs. In 2008, Americans were certainly worried about jobs; unemployment was rising after the worldwide financial collapse. They wanted jobs. The candidates understood that. So they talked about jobs.

Since 2008, it has not gotten any easier to get a job in America. Unemployment steadily rose through 2009. Many people lucky enough to get a paycheck during this time got it from some "sub-level" job with no benefits and no entitlements. Americans started to panic about their economic futures on a scale not seen since the 1930s. Why? Because there were no jobs out there. No one was hiring. Skilled workers and professionals compromised; they took jobs with much lower pay and responsibilities than they deserved. That, in turn, left unskilled workers holding the bag. There simply were not enough jobs to go around.

Meanwhile, the old American rhetoric continued to churn: "You must have a job. Go to school to get a job. Learn in order to work at a company one day. You can even learn how to find a job by writing a good resume with the right kind of paper. You can learn how to interview properly, answer employer questions and wear the right suit to the meeting." Yet millions of Americans who followed the program did not get what they expected. Graduates who did everything right found themselves completely unable to land even an entry-level scrub job.

"What happened?" they said. "I got all the right grades, wore the right clothes, wrote the right resume on the right paper and answered the interview questions the way I was supposed to. And I didn't get the job?" Either that, or the employer just wasn't hiring in the first place.

Americans are rightly confused about why it is so difficult to get a job. After all, our history has somehow given rise to an expectation that everyone easily gets a job in this country. When we look back through history, it seems Americans have always been working. Europeans immigrated here to work. They built things. They worked in factories. They worked on farms. Later generations continued working. It was almost a matter of right. Historically, then, America has symbolized work: We provided work as inexhaustibly as our mighty lakes provided fish and our vast plains provided wheat. We were the great "Land of Opportunity." There was always something to do here; and we needed all the labor we could get.

Times have changed. But popular expectations have not. That is why Americans are confused about why it is so difficult to find a job these days. And that also explains why modern jobs are not as appetizing as they were in the past.

Americans simply do not understand how the modern free market system works. To understand why jobs are no longer so appetizing or available anymore, we must investigate how labor operates in the free market system. In essence, jobs are scarcer and more demeaning today than in the recent past because employees are little more than expendable instruments calculated to win profits for employers. At the same time, employee advocacy has fallen, while employer power has grown.

We can begin our investigation with two basic premises. First, people only engage in commercial activity for large profits. Second, jobs are contracts for labor offered by those who intend to use the worker's productive capacity to win larger profits. As such, they are not entitlements; they are private, discretionary relationships that may be terminated at any time. They are, so to speak, a "matter of grace" bestowed by those with enough money to pay.

These two premises lead to two basic conclusions. First, because people only engage in commercial activity for large profits, they offer employment to others on the implicit understanding that they will further their ultimate profit goals. That means that employees are only as good as their profit potential. If they do not further the ultimate profit goal, they are expendable. Second, because employment is a matter of grace, not right, employers assume a necessarily superior position over their employees. This results in a permanently unfair relationship in which one party takes almost all the benefit from the other's labor. All the while, he subjects the other party to ruthless control, discipline and indignity. When the laborer works, in other words, his time is not his. It belongs to the employer. And it all inures to the employer's benefit.

We can more closely understand these conclusions by focusing on the "profit premise." The "profit premise" is the best way to understand both why it is hard to get a job and why existing jobs are so precarious. The "profit premise" takes all the guesswork out of employment. It takes all the subtlety and uncertainty from the equation. Rather, it simplifies the inquiry to simple arithmetic: "Does this employee yield more profit to me than he costs me in expense?" Employees, after all, only have value to the extent that their labor vaults the employer toward greater profit. But the problem is that employees also represent an expense. It is impossible to have profit if expenses outweigh income. In that light, employees must "pull their weight." If they do not justify their cost in profit, they will be fired. And if the employer simply does not have enough money to "purchase" an employee in the first place, he will not hire anyone.

This explains why no one is hiring these days: Companies do not have enough money to spend on new employees. Private employers are usually corporations. Corporate officers, in turn, must answer to the shareholders. The shareholders want profits. If new employees mean threatening the existing profit level, corporate officer cannot spend money on new hires. If they did, they would disserve the corporation and undermine the very reason why people do business in the first place: To make money, not lose it. Corporations have no duty to the public; they only have a duty to deliver a constant profit stream to their owners. Corporations would actually violate their raison d'etre if they hired people as a "public service."

It helps to see the "hiring problem" in strictly economic terms. It demystifies the issues. From a job-seeker's perspective, it also makes life in the job market much easier to understand. After all, the "profit premise" makes all non-profit-related concerns irrelevant: It does not matter what clothes you wear to the interview. It does not matter what paper you use to print your resume. It does not even matter how smart you are or what school you attended. No, all those things mean nothing compared to the ultimate question: Does the employer have enough money to invest in your labor potential? If he does not--or he fears that your labor potential will not generate a suitably high profit level--you will not get the job. It does not matter how charming you are, or how good looking or even how qualified. All that means nothing next to the real issues: (1) Does the employer have enough money to gamble on you? and (2) Will the employer make a big profit on your labor?

In other words, your own talents and will have nothing to do with the employer's decision to hire you. If the economy is bad and the company is unwilling to threaten existing profit levels, you will not get a private sector job. End of story.

Understanding the "profit premise" also helps clarify why companies lay people off. Existing employees present a different question than new hires. Once a private business hires someone, a new relationship arises. The employer has new concerns. Before hiring, the question was whether the company had enough money to invest in another person's profit-creating potential. After hiring, the question is whether the employee is adequately productive. From this point, the employer takes on a more evaluative role. He investigates whether the employee is working "hard enough." He compares the profit generated with the amount he must pay the employee in wages. If the wages are greater than the profit--or if the profit is not sufficiently greater than the wages--the employer lays the employee off. He says there were "cost concerns." The investment did not pay off. So the employer cuts his losses and dismisses the employee. After all, it is voluntary relationship. And the employer can say "good bye" whenever he wants.

Of course, the above scenario assumes that the company has enough money to continue employing people. When the economy tumbles, or when the company suffers overall losses, it loses the ability to continue paying its existing employees. In that case, it does not matter how qualified or productive the employee may be. When continuing to pay wages threatens overall profit levels, employees get cut. That's the "profit premise" at work.

All these examples lead to a more abstract conclusion: Employment is a vastly unfair relationship. Having a "job" not only subjects the employee to ruthless economic appraisal under the employer's "profit principle." It also places him in an institutionally inferior position. Despite all social expectation to the contrary, employment is not a right in the United States. It is a matter of grace. This is significant because a "relationship of grace" is no equal relationship. Rather, only lords, Gods, sovereigns and those with greatly superior power bestow "grace." And only pathetic petitioners and sinful beggars seek grace from their acknowledged superiors.

Some may say that it is an exaggeration to call employment a "relationship of grace." But close analysis confirms it. In a "relationship of grace," a suppliant party seeks the benevolence of another party known to have strength, power and influence. The suppliant throws himself on the master's mercy in a plea for grace. One imagines a lowly feudal peasant begging his local lord for a loan, throwing himself at the lord's feet. Then the lord, with a condescendingly smug look on his face, extends his ring for the miserable peasant to kiss. Once the lord gives his grace, the peasant bursts into tears and thanks the lord for his benevolence. The lord can then count on the peasant's complete dedication in paying back his grace, even if he exacts a sum far higher in obligation than the sum he bestowed in grace.

Isn't this what happens in a modern employment relationship? Isn't this what job-seekers must do to win approval from their lordly potential employers? Don't they have to debase themselves and claw the floor and kiss rings? Don't they indebt themselves to the employer for his generous decision to throw them a few shekels? Isn't it just as pathetic and despicable as this?

No matter what "career experts" say, I cannot escape viewing the quest for private employment in these "feudal" terms. Landing a job requires more than a healthy economy and an employer who can afford to pay you. It also requires a subservient mindset and the willingness to sacrifice individual dignity for "grace," namely a paycheck. To win that grace, employees must kiss the symbolic ring every day. They must shlep to and from their jobs. They must stay awake. They must attend to meaningless tasks intended solely to enrich their employers. They must remain in an obedient position to receive commands for at least 8 hours a day. To add insult to indignity, they must bear all this so that their employer makes a bigger profit. And when they finally go home, they are both physically and spiritually drained. They have neither the strength nor the will to enjoy their own lives. Rather, they live for the employer. They live for their modern feudal lords.

Inwardly, employees thirst for their precious two days (or less) off. They yearn for time that belongs to them, not their lords. But is that not ironic? After all, they fought so hard to get their jobs. They bowed and scraped and sacrificed everything to get hired. Now, once they commit their waking lives to their employer's profit, they dream about the weekends. Is that not somehow disloyal to the lord they pledged to serve? Or at least "less than diligent?"

If you need proof for this proposition, just listen in on some honest employee chatter. Just note how often they mention what they plan to do next weekend or what they did last weekend.

So is this what it's all about? Are these the magical "jobs" everyone wants? Are these the symbols of our strength as a nation? Is this how we all should spend our lives? As expendable economic instruments to be cast away the moment we fail to justify our costs to our employers?

Perhaps it is. Then again, perhaps that is why there is so much unhappiness in our society. Perhaps the unending pressure to have a job stands at odds with what we want as individuals. Yet jobs always win; "what we want" always loses. And we can only ignore "what we want" for so long until we start feeling really, really bad about life.

Worse, what do we gain for all this unhappiness? A paycheck. Only the employer really wins. He doesn't care whether you're happy or sad. You are just a variable in the income/expense equation. You are a figment of the "profit principle," no more.

SURRENDERING, WASTING TIME AND FOLLOWING ORDERS : THE LANGUAGE OF EMPLOYMENT

THE MYTH OF EMPLOYMENT IN AMERICA

PART 1 - LANGUAGE

Last week, the White House announced some encouraging news about the economy. It said that the "Job Report" for March showed "significant gains." Apparently, more people found private employment during the early spring; and that meant more people were getting paychecks. Since late 2008, the "Job Report" had consistently reported losses. So last month's news was cause for celebration: When people have private sector jobs, it is a national victory.

What makes jobs cause for celebration in America? After all, what exactly is a "job," and why do Americans fetishize them so much? Is there something magical about jobs that makes people live their whole lives seeking them and toiling at them? I say no: In most cases, jobs are a poor way to spend your life; and they are sure way to obliterate your spirit as an individual.

Viewed in the abstract, jobs are nothing to glorify. In most cases, they are just a waste of time. People only work because they need to earn money to stave off material ruin at the hands of creditors, landlords, banks and other superior economic beings. They do not enrich people intellectually or spiritually. Rather, they commit people to a "service obligation," namely, unswerving dedication to the employer's economic mission. That economic mission might involve questionable ethics or outright deceit. But jobs require people to put those concerns aside and "do what the company wants." Worse, if the employee does not "do what the company wants"--or if he simply does not justify his cost in company profit--he is fired. If anything, jobs are gloomy reward. In return for a paycheck, an employee not only must sacrifice his time, dignity, ethics and individuality; he must also commit himself to another's material gain. That is a high price to pay for freedom from bankruptcy.

But still Americans thirst for jobs. Everyone wants one. Economists even measure national commercial strength by evaluating "job creation" and "job robustness." In other words, the entire economic system depends on everyone getting a job and doing what they are told so that larger commercial interests can profit and pay more employees. Jobs depend on hierarchies and disparities in power. Some live to benefit the employer; meanwhile the employer makes off with all the money. The employer expects total dedication to his economic mission; he pays just enough wages to keep the employee fed and under a roof. The employee must follow instructions and be productive.

It is not a fair system: No matter what free market apostles say to the contrary, very little labor is actually voluntary in the United States. True, no one is pointing a gun at employees to force them to work. But deluging people with ceaseless economic obligations under threat of homelessness amounts to practical coercion. If the choice is between letting one's children starve and taking an unfair job somewhere, is it really a choice?

If the field is so tilted, why does everyone want a job? If jobs are inherently unfair, coercive and wasteful, why does the White House tout them as the ultimate measure of national success? Does it not say something about our collective life expectations that we view our jobs as the highest expression of who we are? After all, most jobs are quintessentially counter-creative and anti-individualist. To understand that, consider that in American discourse it is often possible to replace the question "Who are you?" with "What do you do?"

Language relating to employment paints a bleak picture. It tells a story of banality, wasted time and exploitation. By investigating a few common words that regularly appear in the employment context, we see an oppressive, anti-individualist motif at work. And in the process, we begin to understand that the whole mythology surrounding "jobs" in America is exactly that: An elaborate hoax that sustains itself on false expectations and wretched servility.

Let us begin with the most obvious example: "Job." The word "job" is ubiquitous in modern American discourse. We cannot escape it. We even think we know what a "job" means; we visualize some guy slapping on a Starbucks apron and serving up mocchachinos for $5.50 a pop. But do we really understand the word? Where does it come from? What does it tell us? Is it really the sacred thing the propaganda tells us it is? Is it really the thing that determines our strength as a nation? Is it the be all and end all of our lives?

Let us look.

No one can agree on "job's" precise etymology. Most scholars agree, however, that "job" relates to the Middle English word "gobbe," meaning a "lump or mass of something," like clay, mud or grime. Dictionary.com says that "gobbe" did not imply "work" in 1400. But by the 17th Century, it began to assume a new meaning. Specifically, it meant a "specific, discrete piece of work done for an agreed-upon price." That distinguished it from long-term employment; jobs were "petty" and "inconstant." The handyman did "jobs," while the priest had a "profession." A person with a "job" was common trash. The fact that the word relates to "gob" tells almost the whole story. Jobs are grimy, unsavory and despicable ways to spend time. They are like lumps of filth with which people contend every day for a few lousy shillings. And they have always occupied the lowest spot on the "employment hierarchy." Only the meanest types worked "jobs." "Better people" spent their time with "professions" or "callings."

In this historical context, who would ever want a "job?" The etymology tells a nasty story. Only common rogues would deign to be "jobbers" slaving away at their daily lumps. What a horrible way to spend a life. While the word "job" may have taken a more neutral meaning over time, etymology never lies. It is indisputable that the word "job" reflects low social standing and abject surrender to a superior master. Only the most wretched people did "jobs" in the past, like cleaning privies or washing horse dung. Yet now Americans fetishize jobs. Who would have ever thought that so many Americans would have wanted to be the linguistic successors to Elizabethan shit sweepers?

Other employment-related words do not really improve the overall linguistic image. Those fortunate enough to avoid having a "job" might have a "career" instead. Like "job," "career" has become ubiquitous in American discourse. And like "job," Americans think they know what a "career" is. They also understand that "careers" are somehow "better" than jobs. They might not know why; it just seems that "career people" make more money than common slugs with "jobs."

But from an etymological perspective, "careers" are just as pernicious as jobs. While "career" has always elevated itself over "job," both concepts do the same thing: They voraciously consume time. "Career" especially implies a lifetime dedication to a chosen economic pursuit. It derives from the Latin word "carriara," meaning a "road intended for vehicular transport." See Dictionary.com, v. 1.1. "career" derivation. The dictionary's definitions stress "career's" temporal demands: "1. An occupation or profession, esp. one requiring special training, followed as one's life work; 2. A person's progress or general course of action through life or a phase of life." Id.

On its face, "career" does not necessarily imply economic service to a private master. But in American discourse, it does. People go to "Career Schools" and learn how to "prepare for their careers." They hear that it is "great to have a career" and that losing a career is worse than death. In all these usages, "career" implies dedication to a particular economic mission. It is wonderful to have a "life's work" if you believe in it, but how many "careers" really inure to individual benefit? A corporate "career," for instance, is not about the worker; it is about the corporation. A lawyer's "career" is about purposeful economic activity, not individual enrichment or creativity. In this light, "careers" in American discourse paint a disheartening image: They show people slavishly dedicated to a particular economic master for their entire lives. While "career people" may need special training to have a "career" rather than a "job," and while they may earn more money at longer engagements than "jobbers," they are no better in dignity. After all, to have an American-style "career," you have to give up your life to a "particular course of action;" you must "get on the road." In most cases, that means disciplined, directed service to a private economic master. If you do that, what time do you have left for yourself? Very little, if any. In this sense, "careers"--like jobs--generally reflect an essential hostility to individuality and creativity, as well as dedication to superior economic masters. And that is exactly how it is supposed to work, too.

American discourse about employment reveals its hierarchical function through other words, too. Beyond the basic distinction between "jobs" and "careers," there are also "professions." In modern American usage, "professions" are "special careers" that involve some unique learning or discipline. They pay more than other careers and certainly more than mere jobs. "Professions" even conjure mystical connotations because they involve special skills that average people cannot even fathom. "Professionals" use highly specialized language. They ply highly specialized procedures to obtain almost miraculous results. Generally, they go to school for a very long time before going into business. And on that basis they demand more money for their services. The word "profession" is all about "exclusivity:" Not everyone can be a "professional." We cannot all be so smart or skilled. If we were, we could pull our own teeth or conduct our own trials--that would not be good for dentists and lawyers.

"Profession's" etymology bears out these colloquial connotations. The word derives from the Latin "professio," meaning the "taking of the vows of a religious order." Dictionary.com v. 1.1 (profession etymology). In modern usage, the word means: "1. A vocation requiring knowledge of some department of learning or science." Id. Professionals, then, are modern-day mystics. Their very name invokes a "religious order." But they are not free spirits; they "took oaths" to the "religious order." This commits them to their "craft," or--in modern terms--their "knowledge of some department of learning or science." And they are essentially secretive: Not everyone can join a secret religious order, let alone master its complicated rituals or rites.

In practical terms, there is not much difference between a "career" and a "profession." Both refer to constant work for pay, most likely in the service of a private master. In that sense, "professions" consume time even more than simple "careers." Some "professions" genuinely do good. But in most cases, "professionals" band together to maximize their profits by exploiting public need for their "special knowledge." And in America, people do not become professionals to do good. They become professionals because they want "high-paying careers." In the process, they commit themselves to the profession's narrow "department of learning or science" for their entire lives, ruling out all else. Like jobs and careers, then, professions work strongly to suppress individuality and creativity. There is simply no time for anything but the profession--and profiting from it.

Finally, there is a general word that applies to almost all employment-related terms: Occupation. In many ways, occupation perfectly summarizes the temporal difficulties involved in employment. It is a relatively simple word; the subtlety lies in the imagery.

Occupation derives from the Latin "occupare," literally meaning to "occupy." But beyond the familiar "occupation," the word implies a "taking of possession of time or space." There is an element of both superior power and control in the word. It implies that someone or something takes possession. Obviously, anyone or anything possessing someone or something else is superior to the person or thing possessed. In this sense, "occupation" requires a subject and an object, a dominant element and a subordinate element. There is an "occupier" and an "occupied object." It is all about power.

These are revealing insights when applied in the employment context. After all, if a person has an "occupation," who is occupying and who is being occupied? Does the work "possess" the worker, or does the worker "possess" the work? I would venture that the work possesses the worker. It possesses his entire being, including his mind, his time, his creative strength and his focus. He allows someone to occupy him for pay. But he sacrifices his dignity in exchange. It is fundamentally submissive. And it confirms the essential power struggle that pervades all employment relationships: Someone occupies; another is occupied. The occupier profits by occupying the occupied object; the occupied object receives "compensation" for allowing the occupation. Yet make no mistake: It is always the occupier who holds the power, just as a carpenter holds power over his tools.

Where does all this leave us? It leaves us with an ugly picture about employment. American employment propaganda tells us that we should all want jobs or careers. Or a career of jobs. Or maybe a profession, or a professional career. Or at least an occupation. But if we understand what those words actually mean, we should hesitate before so zealously pursuing them. Jobs are just gobs of nasty filth. Careers are time thieves. Professions are hypnotizing, mind-narrowing cults. And occupations are invitations to be "possessed" or "owned." They are all about surrender. They are all about submission.

But maybe that's the point. Maybe we're supposed to surrender and just do what we are told. After all, the White House says we're a stronger nation when we all have jobs.

That is pretty scary if you ask me. Then again, not everyone reads the dictionary like I do.

THE MYTH OF EMPLOYMENT IN AMERICA

OESTERHOUDT STRIKES

Over the next few days, I will write several interrelated essays about employment in the United States. I often write about employment, both in expository and in satirical form. But in these essays, I want to methodically go to the heart. I want to write "Oesterhoudt's Manifesto" on employment in America.

I believe that America has a dangerous "employment fetish." It has completely warped people's minds. True, America has always been "all about work." Yet in recent decades, the line between life and work has blurred considerably. People fanatically give themselves over to their employment without a second thought. They sacrifice what little dignity they have serving a master for comparatively little compensation. And they chase employment like the Holy Grail: A whole social system of propaganda has grown up around the idea that "you must have a job;" and that you should be ashamed of yourself if you don't.

But it is not easy to get a job these days. After all, everyone wants one, and they do not just magically appear. You can't watch the news without hearing about America's "critical job situation." Most people cannot understand why it is so difficult to get jobs. I will explain that the archetypal private sector job is no entitlement. Rather, it is a matter of grace.

In my essays, I plan to utter the final word about the employment "hustle" in America. To do this, I will explain what private sector jobs mean in strictly economic terms. I plan to explain that "jobs" are not rewards for employees. Rather, they are calculated investments in which the employer gambles that human labor capacity will make him a profit. If he does, wonderful. But jobs mean employer expense, too. And if a job costs more than it yields, out goes the employee, even a former "Employee of the Month."

Jobs are simple mathematics: If they cost more than they generate, they are gone.

This is why I recoil from all the rhetoric about "private sector job creation." It is impossible to stimulate job creation without flushing private employers with cash. Employees are expensive investments; and employers can only gamble on investments if they have money. In this light, private employment depends on healthy economic times for the employer. If he's not making a profit in his field, he won't be hiring anyone, even Superman. In brief, it is impossible to talk about "job creation" in the abstract. Only the changeable winds of private market economics dictate whether more employees get to feed at the employer's profit trough.

I also plan to write about the social mythology that pervades discourse about employment. To deconstruct the myths, I will explore language relating to employment. In the past, I have debunked commerce by exploring common commercial words and their etymologies. Now, I will debunk employment by exploring words like "job," "occupation," "career" and "profession." I will dive into etymology to analyze what conceptual complexes operate in these words. In the end, I will show that employment is nothing to glorify. Rather, I will demonstrate that it is just a crude, unfair system that perpetuates social inequalities and obliterates individuality in society.

I will begin addressing these issues tomorrow. As I have mentioned in recent weeks, my schedule has become somewhat more hectic lately. I will do my best to write all the essays on employment this week. But just in case I miss a day, you can attribute it to my exciting new schedule.

Thanks for reading!

Oesterhoudt

DON'T SAY "NEXUS;" SAY "CONNECTION" : WHY I DON'T LIKE PRETENTIOUS LANGUAGE

AN ESSAY

During my first year in law school, I had to take a "legal writing course." It was pure misery. The "professor" was really no professor at all, but rather a disgruntled low-level staffer from the Attorney General's office who worked part-time scolding terrified first-semester students for putting one space before a period rather than two. She never praised anyone. And she consciously tried to drain all individuality from everyone's writing. She said: "This is legal writing. It's time to un-learn everything you've ever learned about writing. Right now."

In her defense, legal writing is certainly different from expository writing. It follows distinct conventions and customs that differ from the classic liberal arts essay. It proceeds along identifiable logical pathways and channels arguments to lead ineffably to a conclusion. It is not subtle. Legal writing does not hide anything from the reader. It tells him exactly what he is reading and repeats it about fifty times before it is over. In our legal writing class, we learned how to manufacture these technical baubles. And we got lots of bad grades along the way to remind us that we missed some essential detail or other.

I became a pretty decent legal writer. After all, it isn't difficult. It's just a skill, like baking. There is no artistry to it. You just take a position, organize some arguments to support it and start declaring why you're right. You avoid the passive voice, follow a set sentence structure and repeat your argument over and over again. You make all your sentences declarative and begin each closing line in a paragraph with "thus." Clarity is important. Subtlety is not. And why should it be? After all, if you're writing to a court to win a case, you don't want to leave your fate to interpretation, do you? Hell no. You want to scream why you're right; and you'll be damned if you hesitate in your demand for victory.

But there is irony in all this. Legal writing--like the law in general--leads lawyers to believe that they possess magical powers. After all, lawyers feel exulted because they know that they can influence the machinery of the State to deprive others of property, liberty and even their lives. They influence that machinery through advocacy, including writing. For that reason, lawyers believe that their "legal writing" opens the doorway to power over others.

Yet there is nothing magical about the law or legal writing. In fact, I came to understand that legal writing actually wields very little influence, despite the mythology to the contrary. When I practiced law, my superiors praised my writing. I thought it led courts to make better decisions in particular cases. But time after time, I saw that judges probably had not even read what I had written. Rather, they knew beforehand how they would rule in a case and carried that prejudice with them through the proceeding. No matter how grand my rhetoric or airtight my logic, my writing would never dislodge an entrenched conviction. Just because I nailed all the technical criteria required for "good legal writing" did not mean I would magically win the case.

All this sobered me about the "power of the law." I learned that there was a vast propaganda machine at work perpetuating the idea that "judges were impartial" and that "good arguments always persuade." The cruel fact is that judges and lawyers are just as shortsighted and prejudiced as the next man. They make decisions based upon their cultural intuition, social values and emotional reactions. They can skillfully cite the law to provide a seemingly "neutral" justifications for their decisions. But in the end, "good legal writing"--and even "good arguments"--will almost never change minds.

Nor should it. Legal writing is agonizingly formulaic. I even wonder how judges can even keep their eyes open when they read it. And who really needs to know what one side in a case says? You can pretty much figure out what each side wants in the case simply by looking at the facts. If a person gets injured, he's going to say the other guy is at fault and should pay him money. The other guy will say he's not at fault and shouldn't have to pay. Or maybe he'll say the injured guy caused his own injury, so he's excused. Our legal system is adversarial. That means that you can figure out exactly what each side wants beforehand: Team A wants to make money; Team B wants to save money. Each accuses the other of bad faith and shouts to the court why he should win.

It's not complicated. It's just a game: One team wants to beat the other. You don't need masterful writing to understand how most cases go. Our adversary system explains it all. And chances are a judge will form an intuitive opinion about the dispute long before he reads what either team has to say about it. So nothing either team says will change the result.

Yet lawyers love their writing, even if it does not ultimately influence anyone. Worse, they scold lower-level employees who do not use the right words in court papers. This may seem meaningless--after all, why insist on particular words if the writing does not affect the outcome in the end?--but it happens. It is as if lawyers understand that their writing will change no one's mind, yet they adhere to rigorous standards merely to show that they can. This is sheer pretentiousness, and I don't like it. Moreover, it is pretentiousness without reason; for even when lawyers use all the right formats, phrases and page headings, their writing will not influence the judge. He has already taken an intuitive notion about the case.

Take this example: In legal writing class, we learned that you must always recite a legal rule exactly as it appears in a case. Over the centuries, pretentious judges have written pretentiously (and sometimes very poorly) about the law. When they lay down a legal rule in a particular case, they enshrine bad writing for generations to come. But in legal writing class, you must cite the rule exactly as it appeared. I recall an example about some lawyer being disciplined for neglecting his client. Once upon a time, a court said there had to be a "nexus" between the lawyer's conduct and resulting harm in order to determine whether an attorney should be disciplined for client neglect.

What the hell is a "nexus?" In law school, I remember thinking: "What a pretentious, unnecessary word. You can just use the word 'relationship,' or even 'connection' to express the same idea without sounding like a complete SAT-word-dropping douchebag.'" So in my brief, I cited the rule without using "nexus." I changed it to "connection." I thought it sounded more accessible. It sounded less arcane. I did not want to sound like a spell-casting sorcerer when I wrote. I wanted my reader to understand immediately what the law said.

But I got a bad grade on that paper because I did not literally use the word "nexus" in reciting the legal rule. It did not matter that my formulation expressed the rule better than the judge's legalese. No, details are important in legal writing, even really bad details that do nothing to improve communication or style.

Still, at the time I had not yet recognized that the law cared nothing for style. I had always prided myself on making my writing as clear and as accessible as possible. It was difficult for me to comprehend that clarity and style did not matter in this new discipline. I resented the formality and structure in legal writing. Ultimately, I learned to do it with the best of them. But it was just imitation. I never believed that legal writing possessed any intrinsic merit over my traditional, expository style.

Recently, I have begun to see legal writing in a larger context. Now, its rigidity and pretentiousness make sense: They reflect the law's effort to construct a fanciful aura of authority and inaccessibility.

Courts and judges--as well as the governments that institute them--benefit from a population that fears the law. People fear things they do not understand. They cower before institutions that speak in a hard-to-understand way. It makes them obedient and respectful. That is why courts want words like "nexus" instead of "connection." If they used words like "connection," people might understand what they were saying. If that happened, more people might see through the law's charades and disrespect it. They might not even need lawyers to translate all the legal rubbish.

In this light, pretentiousness in legal writing makes some sense. It is a smoke-and-mirror routine. It is Wizard of Oz stuff. It looks impressive. But in the end it's all nonsense. Men behind velvet curtains are still men, even if they use befuddling synonyms for common words.

And the ultimate irony is that even the best legal writing will not impress the men behind the velvet curtain. They already know what they plan to do each day. Lawyers can talk and write until they are blue in the face. It won't change anything.

"HONOR BOUND TO DEFEND FREEDOM" : WHAT ARE WE STILL DOING IN IRAQ?

AN ESSAY

Two weeks ago, I watched Paul Greengrass' searing Green Zone. Although the movie masquerades as a pure action thriller, it actually deeply criticizes American involvement in Iraq, especially the manufactured casus belli that led us to war. At several points during the movie,my emotions surged. I have always spoken out against the War in Iraq. I always considered it an illegitimate, illegal, unethical, imperialist venture without justification in law, justice or good policy. The movie showed raw American power at work. And that reawakened my slumbering vitriol about the war.

Green Zone opens in the din of an air raid. It is March 19, 2003, the day the U.S. air force began bombing Baghdad. Sirens wail. We hear the buildings shudder as explosions rip through the city. Iraqi men and women frantically run through hallways, shouting and screaming. We see lights flickering. Dust falls from ceilings. Windows break. Then the shot pans out to a vista over the city. Massive fireballs light up the night. Buildings burn. Anti-aircraft fire streaks into the sky. Jet engines and cruise missiles boom through the air before yet another explosion rips the skyline.

That scene choked me up. So that's American power, isn't it: The power to bomb a city into oblivion. The power to make civilians scramble in panic as the house next door explodes into a million pieces. The power to knock out electricity and destroy infrastructure. And for what? In hindsight, I knew there was no justification for the war. There were never any weapons of mass destruction. Iraq did not plan 9/11, nor did any Iraqis hijack the planes that attacked the United States. No, America flexed its muscles against Iraq simply because it could. It ignored the United Nations and its weapons inspectors. It acted with breathtaking defiance, even if it mumbled about "reliable independent intelligence" concerning an Iraqi nuclear arms program.

Worse, we're still there, seven years and 6000 American dead later. That's to say nothing about the hundreds of thousands of Iraqis killed and countless more lives ruined for nothing.

War apologists will inevitably label be a socialist for making these observations. They will tell me that "intelligence was uncertain" about weapons of mass destruction in Iraq in early 2003, so it was better to be "safe than sorry." They will also tell me that America had "good reason" to attack Iraq because Saddam Hussein was a brutal tyrant who tortured and murdered his own people. In fact, they will stress the fact that America "fights for freedom" around the world; even if we did not find nuclear weapons in Iraq, at least we gave Iraqis democracy.

I recoil from this facetious "freedom" explanation for the invasion. The argument is not just illogical; it also shows American involvement in Iraq for what it really is: A selective, hypocritical, arbitrary application of brute force. It is illogical because America does not really care about "worldwide freedom." In the first place, it is presumptuous to even suggest that "American-style freedom" can work in diverse cultures around the world. And even if such a thing as "freedom" were universal, why stop with Iraq? George W. Bush said that the war was necessary because "Iraqis needed freedom from a murderous tyrant who tortured and gassed his own people." Yet there are many nations across the globe that need the same treatment. The "freedom" rationale--if believed--would require U.S. military involvement in virtually every sub-Saharan African nation, as well as Saudi Arabia, several southeast Asian countries and even Russia. There are "tyrants" in all those nations who "murder their own people."

So why haven't we attacked all these other countries? If we truly care about "freedom," we should attack Rwanda, Uganda, the Congo, Pakistan and Malaysia. The fact that we haven't shows that our involvement in Iraq is purely selective. And because the freedom rationale is so weak, it begs the real question: Why Iraq? Only a naïve idiot could believe that America had a genuine interest in "Iraqis' freedom from tyranny." So what was the real reason?

For a long time, I thought that America invaded Iraq to gain access to its lucrative oil reserves. The cynic in me can never really suppress the thought. Yet after seven years of occupation, oil prices are no lower than they were in 2002. In fact, they have even spiked several times in the ensuing years. With oil men like Dick Cheney and George W. Bush in the White House, Iraq's oil must have been one reason why they decided to invade. In retrospect, it should have been an easy assignment: Knock out Saddam, capture the oil fields, set up some pipelines and start pumping.

But it did not work out that way. The war planners encountered a set of problems they did not anticipate: Sectarian strife. They must have underestimated how difficult it would be to occupy Iraq. They could not set up their pipelines or build their oil-carrying infrastructure because the Iraqis did not just roll over and allow the Americans to have their way with their country. They sabotaged roads, blew up tankers, ambushed convoys and beheaded "contractors." And because men like Donald Rumsfeld woefully miscalculated how much force would be needed to subdue Iraq, the U.S. military never had sufficient strength to pacify the countryside. Rumsfeld thought a "small, rapidly mobile force" with overwhelming air power could claim Iraq.

He was wrong. In the end, U.S. forces in Iraq wound up fighting a desperate "fire brigade" war in which they struggled to respond to local hotspots without bringing overall stability to the country. As a consequence, America could not realize its initial commercial war goal: Oil mercantilism.

Still, I am not writing today to summarize America's strategic failure in Iraq. Rather, I am writing to stress that America's failure was far larger than mere military stalemate. America sacrificed much more than young soldiers' blood to occupy Iraq. It also sacrificed its historically "moral high ground" in war by engaging in illegal, unethical behavior on an unprecedented scale. In the end, American occupiers showed themselves little better than the Baathist torturers they set out to depose in 2003.

Green Zone alludes to this. In brief, the movie follows an army officer (Matt Damon) assigned to locate nonexistent "weapons of mass destruction" at various sites throughout Baghdad. After coming up empty every time, he begins to wonder whether his intelligence is sound. He decides to investigate his sources and gradually uncovers a tangled web of official deceit running all the way down from the Pentagon. When he realizes that the Pentagon has basically misled the army into supporting the war, he sets out to locate an Iraqi general who met with a senior Pentagon official (Greg Kinnear) prior to the war. The general told the Pentagon official that Iraq had no WMD program. The Pentagon official lied about what the general said and told Washington that Iraq did have such a program. To prevent the truth from emerging, the Pentagon official sends a hit squad to kill the general. Meanwhile, the army officer rushes to save him and expose the truth.

Green Zone's plotline makes for a good thriller. But it also makes a valuable point: America's case for war against Iraq was marred from the outset. It was built upon official deception. It threw ethics to the wind and committed American blood for fabricated reasons. The movie shows the American government working in a criminally underhanded manner. It shows senior American officials manipulating the truth and authorizing murder to conceal it. While Green Zone might just be a movie, it is certainly based on real events.

I thought America was supposed to be better than this. What ever happened to America as the "White Knight" of international politics? There was a time when America went to war for good things--and only as a last resort. There was a time when people around the world looked to America as a beacon of freedom and justice. During that time, no one would have dared think America could be tyrannical or evil. America did not lie, cheat, deceive, torture, murder or kill. It punished those who did while remaining true to its ethical principles. Hitler tortured, killed and invaded. America liberated the death camps and freed Europe from Nazi domination. That was noble and just. That was America's international reputation. That America could never act a villain.

Sadly, America did act a villain in Iraq. In a telling scene, Green Zone reminds us that American forces committed atrocities against Iraqi prisoners. It shows us a "detainee camp" in which U.S. forces hold allegedly "high-value" Iraqis in a stockade. It shows U.S. troops brutalizing prisoners with clubs, barking dogs and extremely loud music. It shows them forcing prisoners to sit in uncomfortable positions. We hear prisoners crying out in pain from darkened solitary cells. Some even lie bleeding on the floor without medical care.

Ironically, a sign over the stockade reads: "Camp So-and-So : Honor-Bound to Defend Freedom."

What kind of freedom is this? What kind of honor? It is as if the American army in Iraq still believed that it was the "White Knight" of 1945, even though its "intelligence division" members acted more like SS torturers than noble liberators.

There is no honor in torture or inhumane treatment. America said it waged war in Iraq to overthrow tyranny and torture. Yet within weeks, it began committing the same outrages on Iraqi prisoners that Saddam committed against his own people. Of course, war apologists will say that troops in the field must discover valuable battlefield intelligence "by any means necessary." That may be so as a practical matter. But America used to draw ethical strength from its refusal to engage in the unsavory tactics of its enemies. America acquired a sterling reputation because it refused to be Machiavellian.

We have drifted far from our ethical moorings. The war in Iraq has cost this country more than individual soldiers. It has also cost us our international reputation. We are no longer noble liberators committed to justice. Rather, we are now petulant rogues who wage war simply because we want to, without regard to ethics or international law. Our involvement in Iraq is a very dark chapter in American history. It is the chapter in which America became just another Machiavellian State determined to do its will, no matter the cost in blood or principle.

I wonder whether we will ever repair the damage we have done to ourselves.