donger need food.

Gods and Clods

There was this old episode of South Park were Kyle's Dad mentored his son about the roles that people played in life. He spoke about those smart people (Gods) destined to be doctors and architects, and went on to describe how they need those not so successful (Clods) to pump their gas and clean their toilets.

I still find it odd how my mind manages to dig up arbitrary memories like this in the middle of dinner conversation... Several weeks ago I was enjoying a rather pleasant meal with a couple of friends who suggested dinner at the Poleng Lounge in Western Addition. It turns out that one of them went to college with one of the co-owners, so I had a rare opportunity to get a glimpse into the world of restauranteurship.

Interspersed between delightful bites of creamy sweet buttery beef marrow and crispy fries dipped in sweet banana ketchup, I managed to learn a little bit about the triumphs and tribulations associated with the business side of things. For years, I struggled to be one of those "Gods"... smart with money, business savvy, and full of the entrepreneurial spirit. This country is built on making people rich and making the wealthy people even wealthier (go here for proof), but for some reason I always managed to find myself in that bumbling group of "Clods". Forever doomed to be terrible with money, no matter what the income level, no matter what the advice given throughout the years.

And it was during this dinner conversation in a dark yet hip new restaurant filled with hot (white) late twentysomethings that I realized why: I don't have "it". Something wired in my being precludes me from making the smart moves in life, almost always opting for instant gratification instead of a 500% yield amortized over 30 years. Talking to this co-owner of the restaurant, listening to all the difficulties in securing good marketing, building permits, decisions about location, angel investors, scrounging for funding, I realized that there's an entire world of knowledge and experience that I was never a part of. Three cheers to you, the small business owner. The risk taker. The money savvy. The budding young capitalist.

Walking out of the restaurant into that chilly evening the day after I had turned a hearty 36, the sweet burst of Cool Green Apple Extra gum finishing off the delightful ginataan dessert, I quietly gave a silent sigh... Acceptance that I was destined for different things. Acceptance that fame, wealth and power were reserved only for those Gods whose pocketbooks us Clods were more than happy to keep filled.

posted by VirtualErn @ 11:21 PM

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