Demotivation

Some years ago, I had an epiphany of sorts on walking out of a bar called Dick's Last Resort in San Antonio. I'd been treated like shit by the staff, was served dinner (pork chops) out of a galvanized bucket, and drinks from a quart bottle, yet I was ecstatically happy; I wanted to go back, because I had just had one of the best times of my life. Yes, it might have had something to do with what was in the quart bottles, but there was something more to it than that. The staff had clearly been coached to be rude, surly, and short- but in an odd, Zen koan, sort of way. They were not hateful, they were fun- it was just clear that they were not going to put up with any superfluous shit from their customers.

More recently, I've become fascinated by E.L. Kersten's Despair, Inc., and all the accoutrements thereof. For those of you that may not know, Despair (www.despair.com) is in the business of printing posters that look very much like the ones plastered with motivational bon mots that hang in the breakrooms of most every company in America, with one little difference: his are DEmotivational. They are crushing, devastating, and depressing- as well as hilarious and oddly refreshing. My favorite shows a picture of a sinking ship with this caption: Mistakes- it could be that the purpose of your life is merely to serve as a warning to others.

Mr. Kersten recently proved to the world that he means what he says by publishing a The Art of Demotivation, which is a darkly funny sendup of the culture of "empowerment" of which many of us in the retail world have grown sick and tired. It's not merely humor, however- there is truth beneath it, and it make us laugh because it makes us uncomfortable. People in their twenties and thirties are either totally repulsed by it or magnetically attracted to it. Old guys like my Dad (about to be 70) see it as a vindication of all the old-school, dictatorial management directives that he has wistfully watched fade away over the years. Americans in general struggle to reconcile his message with the "customer is always right" culture that we've grown accustomed to, because his is a message to employees and customers alike: you get what you deserve and nothing more, so fuck off. Just like at Dick's Last Resort.

Well, this morning, it finally occurred to me that Dick's Last Resort and Despair, Inc., might be onto something larger: they are exposing a growing chink in the armor of the customer-is-always-right philosophy that has become an accepted truth in American consumer culture. The dirty little secret, of course, is that the customer is NOT always right, and there is an enormous pent up desire for the growing ranks of service workers in this country to SAY so, but because these same workers are also consumers, it rarely happens. The golden rule seems to have found a new and valuable incarnation here. But the fact remains: why do these organizations feel like oxygen in otherwise very stale room?

Well, most obviously, they are exposing the Emperor as naked. Consumer culture can induce vertigo after a while, because it denies many basic truths that we all know to be true: like, for example, that the customer that pitched a fit in front of you in line today was not right, he was a psychotic asshole that needed a shrink or a punch in the mouth, not coddling. Seeing people like this get their asses kissed- or worse yet, having to kiss their asses yourself to keep the customer's business or to keep from getting fired- is a surreal and disturbing experience. Clearly part of the appeal of Dick's Last Resort and Despair, Inc. is the feeling of tension released at seeing this myth shattered.

But perhaps the answer also lies in expectations. The fact is that Americans have been on an upward-spiraling climb in expectations for decades now. We not only want, but have come to EXPECT, higher quality and better service tomorrow that what we had yesterday. What's worse, when we get it, we take it entirely for granted. For example, the statistical strides in automotive quality over the last twenty years have been nothing short of remarkable, in every conceivable sense- but do people sit around talking about how great their cars are, how little trouble they give them? Why no, they find something else to bitch about, of course. The same thing applies to the workforce, which why Mr. Kersten's thoughts resonate so well: employees have never had it so good: better pay, better hours, better benefits, less alienation (in Marxist terms), and yet are employees any happier, more loyal, or harder working than they were thirty years ago? No, Kersten says: you have simply emboldened them to indulge the worst, selfish elements of themselves. As an employer, he suggests, you have done them and yourself a disservice, because you have launched them up that escalator of continually higher expectations with no hope of anything but eventual disappointment. So, he would say, beat the rush and disappoint them NOW.

Perhaps the key to happiness, then, for all parties concerned, is to just lower our expectations. Dick and his friend E.L. are simply reminding us of this. The fact is that it's infinitely easier to attain the state of mind that we all putatively desire- happiness- when you think this way than when you get on that escalator of expectations and keep thinking that you'll find it on the next floor.