Introduction to Feeding the Rich

I've promised myself to enter this project without prejudice, which, of course, is a lie. Because we carry our beliefs/race/gender/socio-economic status into everything we encounter, whether people or books or landscapes. But I'm approaching this with an open mind, without foregone conclusions. Most of you, whom I assume aren't included in the "richest people in the world" category, like me, automatically think feeding the poor will be a much "richer experience," as one reader already put it. But there is a Buddhist saying that your enemies are your best teachers, and while I don't necessarily think of the wealthy as my enemy, I can say I'm curious about what the privileges, neuroticisms and defensive behaviors caused by the acquisition of excessive amounts of money can teach me.

It's also important to keep in mind that human beings are human beings, and it's impossible to make generalizations about any population. Wide, encompassing nets may be cast, but there are always those exceptions that will filter through the holes. I've worked at a country club consisting of a handful of asshole members (whom, by the way, make for better stories), but there were also extremely kind and generous members as well. And just last night I read a piece in Evan Wright's Hella Nation where American soldiers in Afghanistan threw a water bottle from their Humvee to distract some village children away from their vehicle in order to drive on, only to watch in horror as two nine year old boys "beat the shit out of each other" in order to obtain the bottle.

The point is, we should consciously set our prejudices aside as much as possible, even though some stereotypes will be confirmed; others may be broken. I want to give as accurate and . . . I almost said objective, but this is my hyper-critical, subjective mind we're dealing with here. Anyhow, I want to give the reader the sense of what it's like to be in a position of service, whether that service is to the rich or poor, and I especially want to draw an interesting and compelling portrait of the two worlds I'm entering.

Rancho Santa Fe is the proverbial Garden of Eden. The roads are populated by BMWs and Mercedes and an occasional Bentley. Our customers include pro athletes (I've already seen/served/delivered to Brian Giles, Trevor Hoffman, Jeff Garcia, and Denny Green), pop stars, political figures, business executives, etc. This is the town where a man paid Paul McCartney a million dollars to sing for his wife's birthday, where multi-million dollar homes are the standard, and menu prices are rarely an issue. But this garden also has it's snakes: this is where, in 1992, CIA operative Ian Spiro's wife and children were found murdered in their beds, while his body was discovered a few days later poisoned in the Mohave desert; it's also where, in 1997, the Heaven's Gate cult tried to hitch a magical ride on the spacecraft behind the Hale-Bopp Comet by ingesting Phenobarbital and vodka; and it's where the wealthy hide behind guard gates, fences and electronic driveway gates, which are more reminiscent of a prison than the supposed freedom found in Paradise. Oh, and that couple who bought Paul McCartney for the wife's birthday––they had a nasty, public divorce, which you can read about in the wonderful 2004 San Diego Reader article, "The Curse of the Ranch."

So I begin this journey with an open mind, willing to learn what I can from the experience, allowing everyone to be my teachers, whether friends or enemies. Get your Thomas Brothers' Map, a full tank of gas, and some good tunes, and come along for the ride. It should be interesting . . .