The American Dream
THE ACCOUNT that follows is an example of the American Dream. It's an account of human enterprise succeeding in spite of the false world that has been created in the digital age.
An out of work young man applied for the position of office boy at Microsoft. The human resources manager interviewed him then watched as he cleaned the floor as a test. "You're hired," he said. "Give me your e-mail address and I'll send you the application to fill in, as well as date when you may start".
The young man replied: "But I don't have a computer, nor an e-mail."
"I'm sorry," said the HR manager. "If you don't have an e-mail, that means you don't exist. And who doesn't exist can't have the job."
The applicant left with no hope at all. He didn't know what to do. He had only $10 in his pocket. He went to the supermarket and bought a 10kg crate of tomatoes and started selling them door to door.
In less than two hours he had doubled his money. He repeated the operation three times, and returned home with $60.
Realising he could survive this way, he started out earlier, and returned late. He doubled or tripled his money every day.
Then he bought a cart, then a truck. Five years later he had a fleet of delivery vehicles and was one of the biggest food retailers in the US .
He decided he needed life insurance. He went to see an insurance broker, and chose a protection plan. When the conversation was concluded, the broker asked for his e-mail address.
"I don't have an e-mail."
"You don't have an e-mail, and yet you've built an empire. Can you imagine what you could have been if you'd had e-mail?"
"Yes, I'd be an office boy at Microsoft."
The Verger
THE ABOVE is, of course, an adaptation of W Somerset Maugham's short story, The Verger, in which a man loses his job as verger at St Peter's Church, Neville Square, because he can't read and write.
Wondering what to do, he feels like a fag. But he's run out. And he can't find a tobacconist's anywhere in the neighbourhood.
He spots a gap in the market and opens a tobacco stall. He ends up owning a chain of them across London. He's a wealthy man.
Then, on a visit to the bank, the manager is astounded to find that his wealthy client can't sign his own name. "Imagine where you'd have been if you could read and write!"
"I'd have been Verger at St Peter's Church, Neville Square."
Yes, enterprise wins. But the secondary message is a little disturbing. Not knowing your way about the digital world is like being totally illiterate.
We have to adapt. That's why my cellphone has a little handle on it which I crank before saying: "Hello … Sentraal?"
Facebook, here I come!
Phone Stack
MEANWHILE, reader Eileen van der Velden brings us a trendy new game designed to restore the lost art of dinner table conversation.
It's called Phone Stack. When you and your friends go into a restaurant, you stack your cellphones face down in the centre of the table. You ignore them as they ring and as they announce the arrival of e-mails and text messages. You get on with chatting to your friends.
It's not easy though. People are sorely tempted to reach out and answer their phone.
But the first one who does that picks up the tab for everyone's meal. It's a harsh discipline, but something has to be done if humanity is to recover its capacity for intelligent conversation.
Tailpiece
PRESIDENT Obama went to visit former President Bill Clinton. While at Clinton's place he paid a visit to the bathroom where he was astonished to find a solid gold urinal. That evening he told Michelle about this unusual piece of bathroom equipment, which he felt to be a bit ostentatious and over the top.
A couple of days later, Michelle and Hillary had lunch together. The subject of the solid gold urinal came up and the girls had a good laugh.
That evening Hillary said to Bill: "I've found out who widdled in your saxophone."
Last word
I don't make jokes. I just watch the government and report the facts.
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