Day 138: October 16, 2009 (why the rich both give and don't give a sh*t)

Position: Driver

Number of Deliveries: 11

Sales: $370.03

Tips: $63

Hours: 3.80

Total Wage: $24.58 per hour

As I drive around, I enjoy BBC Business Daily's program today about rich people and giving, from different cultural perspectives. They mention that the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation spends as much on worldwide healthcare as the entire World Health Organization, just over one billion dollars a year. That astounds me. Conversely, Martin Brookes, chief executive of New Philanthropy Capital, says the British, traditionally known as a tight-fisted people, are giving "a smaller fraction of [their] total income" today. He says one reason people in the U.S. might be better givers is because we give much more visibly: naming buildings, business colleges, etc. after ourselves. Brookes says, "Research shows that if you give money, and you talk about it openly, you're more likely to inspire others to give." Turns out, we're always trying to keep up with the Joneses, even in our giving.    

They also interview Ram Gidoomal, who came to Britain from India via Pakistan and East Africa. When asked about rich people's motivations in giving, he responds, "When I became a follower of Christ, what I learned was that when I give, I give as an expression of thanksgiving. I know that when my father gave, and my father gave generously to the temples, he was paying for his karma, his karmic debt." He also answers the Wall Street Journal's article, "India's Rich, Open Your Wallets,"  by saying there are 600 million poor people in India, and most rich Indians give in their communities by building infrastructure for their villages. Apparently, Indian billionaires aren't winning awards like Bill Gates. But then again, giving in India isn't like the U.S., where the Wall Street Journal writer says, "giving [is] practically a competitive sport in U.S. business circles."

When asked how ego and guilt drive giving, Gidoomal answers, "Some people want to get acknowledgement and recognition. And I say, 'So what? Let them get it.' If it's out of guilt, so what? Let the money flow." He also says, "So what if the motive is different? In one sense, giving was done." 

The interviewer asks one final question: "What's the duty of the rich people to give, if there is one?"

And Gidoomal answers, "Oh, I'm driven here by Andrew Carnegie's statement, 'A rich man who dies with any money is a disgrace.' His point was, we must give and give and give, and to die with wealth to your name is a statement that you didn't give enough, even if you gave. We must learn to give, and to give generously. I love Bill Gates's example. You know, Bill Gates with his multiple billions has taken care of his children and grandchildren and probably a generation later, and he still had surplus. At least he's giving it . . . the answer is in a simple word: give, and give, and give. Don't hoard it."

I come away from the program feeling inspired by the giving of the rich, the sense of redemption, that they're not all those terrible, greedy people in the news who've been taking massive bonuses in the face of our national economic collapse, a collapse they created with derivatives, sub prime mortgages, and naked short selling. No, some choose to use their superpower for good instead of evil; it's not all the Legion of Doom; there are Super Friends. Yay!

And then this happens: I get to a delivery, pull all the way up the driveway, and a man comes walking out of the garage, wearing shorts and a T-shirt. He looks like a long lost, overweight Baldwin brother, and he clearly dresses down on the weekends. You should know I've recently grown my beard out in anticipation of the Valient Thorr concert next week (they're from Venus––long story), and this man keeps looking at me suspiciously. Instead of digging out his cash first, he takes the two large pizzas and box of cookies from me then looks down at his pocket, realizing his logistical error. Instead of handing back the food, he places the pizzas on the hood of my car. Now, I'll admit, my car is an elderly clunker, oxidized paint on the trunk and all, but it's my car, my space. He certainly wouldn't like it if I put the pizzas on his BMW and asked for the money. It's this kind of disregard that I don't like about the wealthy, that my life and crap aren't as important as their lives and crap, and that's why it's okay to make millions of dollars while the very people you screwed lose everything. All I can say to that is "Alahoyus!"