A Change is Gonna Come...Later

February 18, 2000

I’m taking a night class at NYU. It’s about strategic marketing. Last night we watched a video about a company that makes microwaveable French fries. The pasty, pudgy CEO of this frozen French fry company was talking about packaging and distribution and foreign market growth opportunities. A map of the world then appeared on the screen indicating where microwaveable French fries had achieved their greatest penetration. The company’s chief scientist spoke about container technology and how to get French fries to brown in a microwave. "That’s always been our biggest challenge," she said.

Maybe I was tired from a long day of work. Maybe I was grumpy because it was kind of hot in the classroom and the desk wasn’t that comfortable. Whatever the reason, the thought dawned on me, "How fucking boring is this?!" And I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

Calvin Coolidge once said that "the business of America is business." And my God is business boring. It’s enough to make me want to unabomb somebody. Granted there is some temporarily numbing satisfaction in doing the mental gymnastics required to work out a production schedule or a marketing plan or a distribution process, but at the end of the day, you’ve still spent your best hours working on microwavable French fries. (Or on mutual funds, or on motor controls, or on a web site that six people in the world are going to care about.)

That work is not fun is not news. Ever since Adam and Eve were kicked out of the Garden, the curse of mankind has been to toil endlessly. But before the age of mass media, people weren’t so constantly aware of the suckiness of their lives.

Every time I watch TV or flip through a magazine, I see movie stars dancing on beaches in the South Pacific, drinking bubbly at posh Beverly Hills restaurants, or skiing in the Alps with their celebrity buddies. A hundred years ago, you could only imagine how the rich and famous lived. Now you can see it all the time.

E! Entertainment Television, Talk magazine, and the style section of The New York Times remind me constantly of what I don’t have. Matt Damon is probably licking champagne off of some supermodel’s chest while I’m watching some dullard talk about French fry consumption in the U.K. Gwyneth Paltrow is probably recovering in her Aspen hotel suite after an "absolutely dreadful flight from Paris" while I’m schlepping home on the PATH train hoping the yelling homeless drunk guy doesn’t direct his urine stream my way.

Goddammit.

It’s not fair, man. Not fair at all. We shouldn’t have to be subjected to these constant scenes of people living it up behind the gilded gates. Let’s take it to the streets. A revolution. Gonna take us some of that money and that fame.

But can we do it tomorrow? I’m pretty tired and I was kind of planning on going home in time to watch the True Hollywood Story of Lee Marvin.

Broadway Jim Sosnicky

		A Change is Gonna Come…Later
		February 18, 2000 I’m taking a night class at NYU. It’s about strategic marketing. Last night we watched a video about a company that makes microwaveable French fries. The pasty, pudgy CEO of this frozen French fry company was talking about packaging and distribution and foreign market growth opportunities. A map of the world then appeared on the screen indicating where microwaveable French fries had achieved their greatest penetration. The company’s chief scientist spoke about container technology and how to get French fries to brown in a microwave. "That’s always been our biggest challenge," she said. Maybe I was tired from a long day of work. Maybe I was grumpy because it was kind of hot in the classroom and the desk wasn’t that comfortable. Whatever the reason, the thought dawned on me, "How fucking boring is this?!" And I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Calvin Coolidge once said that "the business of America is business." And my God is business boring. It’s enough to make me want to unabomb somebody. Granted there is some temporarily numbing satisfaction in doing the mental gymnastics required to work out a production schedule or a marketing plan or a distribution process, but at the end of the day, you’ve still spent your best hours working on microwavable French fries. (Or on mutual funds, or on motor controls, or on a web site that six people in the world are going to care about.) That work is not fun is not news. Ever since Adam and Eve were kicked out of the Garden, the curse of mankind has been to toil endlessly. But before the age of mass media, people weren’t so constantly aware of the suckiness of their lives. Every time I watch TV or flip through a magazine, I see movie stars dancing on beaches in the South Pacific, drinking bubbly at posh Beverly Hills restaurants, or skiing in the Alps with their celebrity buddies. A hundred years ago, you could only imagine how the rich and famous lived. Now you can see it all the time. E! Entertainment Television, Talk magazine, and the style section of The New York Times remind me constantly of what I don’t have. Matt Damon is probably licking champagne off of some supermodel’s chest while I’m watching some dullard talk about French fry consumption in the U.K. Gwyneth Paltrow is probably recovering in her Aspen hotel suite after an "absolutely dreadful flight from Paris" while I’m schlepping home on the PATH train hoping the yelling homeless drunk guy doesn’t direct his urine stream my way. Goddammit. It’s not fair, man. Not fair at all. We shouldn’t have to be subjected to these constant scenes of people living it up behind the gilded gates. Let’s take it to the streets. A revolution. Gonna take us some of that money and that fame. But can we do it tomorrow? I’m pretty tired and I was kind of planning on going home in time to watch the True Hollywood Story of Lee Marvin. Broadway Jim Sosnicky