Buying Belonging?
The Berkeley hangout is exactly the kind of place Steven Johnson had in mind in Where Good Ideas Come From. Ideas percolate across disciplines and permeate the many distinctives that otherwise divide University of California students. More often than to the stereotypical solitary genius, this interdisciplinary intermixing of ideas, Johnson says, is where inspiration strikes. Yet, at least one undergrad who might particularly benefit can't let herself be drawn in. She has seen her mother count out the five $20 bills that make up the family income on a week in her father's gardening business that has been dampened by the weather. "Five dollars a day for coffee?! I can't afford that."
Students who could afford that coffee habit may think little or nothing of utilizing the café's less visible advantages of free Wi-Fi and networking without indulging, but the interview subject in question has a more fragile sense of belonging. She may wonder if every glance in her direction is a glance at a refillable water bottle where a coffee cup should be. Is she, she may wonder, being judged for what she doesn't buy? Reflecting on his experience at Indiana University, Larry Bird in When the Game Was Ours reflected that he never made it to basketball season at that school despite his prodigious talents because he dropped out before the season began. His classmates had clothes he could not afford. He, despite his prodigious athletic talents, recognized by scholarship to an elite level of competition, felt separated by what he could not buy.
If we resist the pressure to conform materially long enough to enter the working world, the chorus of conformity seems to grow louder rather than subside. After two years of success in what he called his first real job, an acquaintance I met this week could have cemented his professional identity by acquiring many of the accoutrements that went with it. Because he resisted, he was more resilient in the face of what came next. When the forces of change closed the business that employed him, he was only responsible for his car. "If I lost that," he says recounting his heartiness at the time, "so what?" This same openness to what life brings has about my new acquaintance, now 94, to move from his initial employment in the railroad industry, through the automation of the automobile industry, and now to an ongoing interest in self-driving cars.
More than our own self-definition can be impacted by how much importance we place on other people's expectations and on purchasing peace of mind by conforming to them. After launching her career in cosmetology to some success, another acquaintance told me what she discovered about the mindset necessary to maintain success in that particular field. She had to, she felt, exert pressure to get clients to schedule their next appointment and then exert pressure to induce them toward high-cost services such as coloring. She left that field for dental hygiene because, she says, I wanted to impact people's health more than their ego. Three different inquiries from coworkers whether she needed help with my cleaning let me know that, even in the health field, there is pressure to prove efficiency and cost-effectiveness.
What pressures are we imbibing along with each day's caffeinated ambience? What do we infer from people's glances about the habits we should assume in order to be approved? Moreover, what does our generally preoccupied aspect convey to those around us who may be seeking five seconds of unconditional positive regard in order to take another step toward their unique vision of themselves? So many are adept at disguising their vulnerability to social pressure that we need the honest insight of Vietnam veteran Karl Marlantes from What It's like to Go to War to maintain vigilance that this sense of self is pervasively under assault. He writes, "Ego will happily destroy the body for its own sake. Look at the overweight executives headed for heart attack on the way to getting their pictures in Fortune or anorexic models suffering slow starvation on their way to getting their pictures in Vogue." Whether we walk among college students we expect to be in formation or we work in the rarefied atmosphere of CEO's, we are surrounded by the overemphasis of other people's approval. We can be equally wary of the pressure of other people's expectations upon us and, in turn, conscious of our own power to ease other people's labors under that load.
Students who could afford that coffee habit may think little or nothing of utilizing the café's less visible advantages of free Wi-Fi and networking without indulging, but the interview subject in question has a more fragile sense of belonging. She may wonder if every glance in her direction is a glance at a refillable water bottle where a coffee cup should be. Is she, she may wonder, being judged for what she doesn't buy? Reflecting on his experience at Indiana University, Larry Bird in When the Game Was Ours reflected that he never made it to basketball season at that school despite his prodigious talents because he dropped out before the season began. His classmates had clothes he could not afford. He, despite his prodigious athletic talents, recognized by scholarship to an elite level of competition, felt separated by what he could not buy.
If we resist the pressure to conform materially long enough to enter the working world, the chorus of conformity seems to grow louder rather than subside. After two years of success in what he called his first real job, an acquaintance I met this week could have cemented his professional identity by acquiring many of the accoutrements that went with it. Because he resisted, he was more resilient in the face of what came next. When the forces of change closed the business that employed him, he was only responsible for his car. "If I lost that," he says recounting his heartiness at the time, "so what?" This same openness to what life brings has about my new acquaintance, now 94, to move from his initial employment in the railroad industry, through the automation of the automobile industry, and now to an ongoing interest in self-driving cars.
More than our own self-definition can be impacted by how much importance we place on other people's expectations and on purchasing peace of mind by conforming to them. After launching her career in cosmetology to some success, another acquaintance told me what she discovered about the mindset necessary to maintain success in that particular field. She had to, she felt, exert pressure to get clients to schedule their next appointment and then exert pressure to induce them toward high-cost services such as coloring. She left that field for dental hygiene because, she says, I wanted to impact people's health more than their ego. Three different inquiries from coworkers whether she needed help with my cleaning let me know that, even in the health field, there is pressure to prove efficiency and cost-effectiveness.
What pressures are we imbibing along with each day's caffeinated ambience? What do we infer from people's glances about the habits we should assume in order to be approved? Moreover, what does our generally preoccupied aspect convey to those around us who may be seeking five seconds of unconditional positive regard in order to take another step toward their unique vision of themselves? So many are adept at disguising their vulnerability to social pressure that we need the honest insight of Vietnam veteran Karl Marlantes from What It's like to Go to War to maintain vigilance that this sense of self is pervasively under assault. He writes, "Ego will happily destroy the body for its own sake. Look at the overweight executives headed for heart attack on the way to getting their pictures in Fortune or anorexic models suffering slow starvation on their way to getting their pictures in Vogue." Whether we walk among college students we expect to be in formation or we work in the rarefied atmosphere of CEO's, we are surrounded by the overemphasis of other people's approval. We can be equally wary of the pressure of other people's expectations upon us and, in turn, conscious of our own power to ease other people's labors under that load.
I hung out at the college cafe of interdisciplinary mingling. I dare say I, for a short while, defined it. I was part of the experience, as much as any of the vintage sofas, but I came to the show with a thermos of home brew, economically sensible, in an antique vessel. Shabby chic. Thrift store cool.
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