Our famous landmark restaurant--Lake Dogs. Actually an awesome place, nothing like eating oysters and drinking beer on the back patio. Anything exciting that happens in my little town got it's start here. Famous for it's golf cart parades (we like parades here and sometimes have them spontaneously) and annual Bar-B-Que cook off. All of our kids have charge accounts with the little restaurant, and grew up driving their golf carts and scooters there for afternoon burgers and hotdogs. They are a whole group of little "Lake Dogs".
So I finally got to see "Slumdog Millionaire" last night; the Teenager and I snatched it off the shelves at our local Movie Gallery and were enthralled for hours by the film. We are huge Bollywood fans and enjoy reading anything by Jhumpa Lahiri, as well as other Indian authors. If you get a few moments to read a really good book, I recommend the controversial "White Tiger" by Aravind Adiga. It chronicles a young Indian man's rise from base servitude to becoming a man of substance in modern day India. It's not a flattering portrait of modern Indian culture or their still evident and rigid class structure, and though the premise of "White Tiger" is similar to "Slumdog", the Booker Award winning novel does not make you feel good at the end. Instead you are exhausted as if you had taken the same journey as the protagonist.
But this is not a book review post. I marveled in at the entreprenurial antics of the two brothers in "Slumdogs", their unique ways of turning misfortune into opportunity for financial advancement. The scene with the German tourists at the Taj Mahal had the Teenager and I in absolute tears of laughter. In watching "Slumdog" I was reminded powerfully of someone near and very dear to me. So near, that in fact we were sharing a bowl of popcorn.
The Teenager. Our very own Lake Dog Millionaire.
A born salesman and entrepreneur, the Teenager has been wheeling and dealing since birth. As an exceptionally pretty baby; he quickly became used to the hordes of women that clustered around his stroller to worship him. Strange women, not just his grandmothers. He learned to beam his radiant smile and flutter his insanely long lashes over those deep green eyes at instantly smitten women to get whatever he wanted. From preschool through to his current grade, teachers have fallen, bewitched by his charismatic spell and ceaseless catalog of pure bullshit, magically turning "C's" into high "B's". I've yet to meet a teacher that didn't melt under his charm and sing his praises to heaven.
Notice though I said "C's". That's being optimistic. The Teenager is not a student, though every year he magically shows up in "gifted" classes to exasperate; then charm a new teacher. Normally we have "D's" and occasionally "F's". I used to become totally frustrated, as any parent of an underachieving child does. He's quite bright, except for having inherited my bad math gene. However there's nothing wrong with his adding and subtracting skills.
After watching him operate for a few years I can say in complete confidence that he may not make it through high school, but by God I won't end up in the "D" class Medicaid nursing home. The boy makes money happen easier than Donald Trump has ever dreamed of doing. He always has an angle, a scam. He always gets the best of any deal, and his marks love him and come back for more.
I saw his gifts when he was younger and into Pokemon trading cards. He would get a pack of cards, and by the time he was done trading he would have his original deck plus at least three other peoples' decks added to his. He would get in the car after school and tell me all the juicy details of his trades like a mini-Warren Buffet during a particularly exciting bull run on the market. I used to cringe at PTA meetings because I was always terrified of being confronted by the parent of one of the many children he had swindled. He traded up on everything and never got caught by teachers, despite the ban on trading cards at school.
By fifth grade he had two projects in the works. First he had some sort of complicated floating bathroom craps game going on. I don't exactly know where he learned to roll the bones, but luckily he had just exited the game (with his winnings) when it was busted up by the principal. His other scam involved rolling his allowance into cheap little trinkets and then selling them at hugely inflated prices during school hours. He went on his fifth grade trip with one hundred dollars and returned with just over two hundred this way. He explained the concept of having a captive audience with no other supply chain to me like an old pro. He sounded like the world's shortest snake oil salesman; even I was mesmerized by his spiel and had a strong urge to give him ten dollars for a two dollar keychain laser pointer. Again I waited for the angry phone calls, and again they did not come.
I'm not sure how he funded his way through middle school. He didn't have much available capital, but always was always coming home wth great stuff. A Ping putter was the least of his booty. My husband and I alternately called him "Akbar the Trader" or "Jimmy the Wrench" depending on the legality of his practices. Some parents put money in college savings accounts, but as a practical woman I set up a legal fund to cover a defense team instead.
He also got interested in the show "The Riches", which I loved also. Sadly it was cancelled after the second season. The free wheeling Traveler family touched something in him and made me wonder if perhaps there might have been a switched baby issue at the hospital. What fascinated him the most was the practice of "quick changing", which is a really easy cash register scam involving a little bill changing from not so bright cashiers (I quickly tried to remember how much money I had in that legal defense fund about then and doubled my donations). I convinced him that illegally gained funds were not half as fun to earn as really using your brain and ingenuity to make money. Obviously Bernard Madoff's mom did not have this conversation with her bubelah when he was a young man.
Which led us to where we are now. All year I have received form letters from the school expressing concern over his civics and physical science grades. I don't even bother to respond anymore, he's going to be just fine even if he never memorizes the Bill of Rights. They don't get him yet, but they will eventually. He is a dedicated NPR listener and headed up the school's Young Democrats this year. He understands the underlying problems that have led us to this current recession, and is passionate about civil liberties. Name a group of disenfranchised people and he has donated something to their cause or is willing to step up and defend their rights. Physical science......whatever. I know it's a requirement, but I would rather see him in a class he might actually use in a future career. Economics is the first one that comes to mind; he has stocks now and is always curious how world markets work. I know I'm going to piss some science teacher off somewhere, but what the hell. The Teenager is as likely to use physical science in his future as I am to using condensed matter physics in my work. I know the Asians are killing us in science and math education; let them have it. My boy has the golden touch, he's a moneymaker. One thing did bother me though this year; he always had a ready supply of funds, yet had no job or allowance. God help me, was he running a shell game again?
I puzzled for weeks over it. Money would fall out of his jean pockets in the wash or I would find dollar bills crumpled up around his room. Not much though, so I felt I could safely rule out a flourishing career in controlled substance distribution. Since most of his schemes are borderline unethical, but not immoral or illegal in the strictest sense, I decided that ignorance was probably my best path to the peace of mind I constantly crave. Also, I know the Teenager pretty well. He gets excited about his little projects and does like to share them at dinner. So I waited patiently.
Normally during dinner, he gets a constant stream of texts and the occasional phone calls that prompt him to excuse himself briefly from the table so that he can give his friends/ customers his full attention. I almost forgot what a little humanitarian he is; in spite of what often appears to be ruthless opportunistic capitalism. He is a great listener and an even better problem solver; that is the total key to his ability to sell any product or idea. I could never do this and admire anyone that can sell things. He identifies the problem, and finds a solution for you that makes money for him. Simple, yet brilliant.
I know you surely must be dying to know what fabulous business opportunity the Teenager has created for himself here, so I will put you out of your misery.
He sells condoms to his loads of female friends. Better than that, he gets them for free from our local health department. Lots of them. He has charmed the nice lady that works there into bagging up dozenss of them for him. She's known him since he was a second grader. She knows me. We all know each other in my small town. Now she thinks my Mr. Bunny is a sex crazed teen aged maniac; albeit a very charming one. I've watched him practice his moves on women. He probably has her laughing at his jokes in five minutes or less. Since she cannot legally tell me he comes there to get condoms (and he knows this); he has ruthlessly exploited her kindness. I'll bet he complemented her on her always flawless manicure to get his foot in door. Being raised by a diva has made him a lot more observant of women than most men are, so he knows that noticing the little things like pretty finger nails or a new hair style makes him even more endearing to the ladies.
So he takes these condoms and sells them to his female friends, the ones that talk to him for hours about everything. The ones that are too embarrassed to go to a store and buy their own, or to trust their boyfriends to take care of that. Since the very little school sex education we have here is vague at best about birth control (preferring "abstinence" based sex ed despite our staggering teen pregnancy numbers), many of our kids are getting little or no real world guidance. When he took "health education" in middle school, the coach in charge of the curriculum told them that condoms were applied in the "underwear area". I'm aware though that their hands are tied by the fundamentalist mores of our community, but the teachers here are very much in touch with the challenges of teaching in a rural community. It must be very frustrating to them to not really be able to help some of these kids.
He gets $3.00 a condom or you can buy three for $8.00. With your condom purchase comes an explanation of how to safely apply and remove the condom. He has a whole little safe sex lecture with his sales pitch. If you run into trouble, you can call him for technical assistance and now that he can drive, he can deliver them to your door if needed. I am horrified, yet fascinated by his ingenuity. He feels he is doing a valuable community service and making a nifty profit, plus building a future market for whatever product he sells next. He's compassionate capitalism at it's best.
He is currently job hunting now, as he got his license last week. He wants a real job and is having a difficult time finding one, as older folks have taken all the traditional summer jobs teens usually fill. If you need a charming and ingenious young person to work for you, email me.
I, on the other hand, had better go ahead and get on the waiting list for the luxury old folks home; I hear they can be difficult to get in. Hopefully the Teenager will know someone who owes him a favor and get his old mom a good room.
Love and Kisses,
Cult Diva
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