Who says there’s no such thing as a free lunch? I’ve chowed down on more free lunches, attended more free concerts and hauled in more complimentary swag than anyone deserves.
And, man, did I ever get used to it.
Looking back, it amazes me how thoroughly I fell into freebie culture. It’s not hard when you grow up in L.A. and your parents –– then you –– work in the entertainment industry.
My mother rose from a secretarial position to vice president of a record company. She routinely brought home free LPs (mostly crap), which I would then trade for good stuff at a nearby record store. That’s how I built my record collection, though these days I acquire music from iTunes the old-fashioned way. I buy it.
Thanks to shameless nepotism I, too, became a music industry goon, a publicist to be precise. My job: convince uninterested reporters to write about uninteresting bands. That job came with plenty of perks.
Over time, all those free records, expense account meals and bacchanalian backstage spreads became numbingly normal. I lived life riding down the Hollywood “free way,” and to some extent I still do.
As a j. reporter, I have gone on two junkets to Israel, been comped for countless plays, movies and museum exhibitions, and taken home any number of books sent by publishers seeking reviews. Unrelated to j., I even get a free cup of coffee every day thanks to my Starbucks Visa card.
It’s fun. It feels good. But is it good for the Jews?
Or, at least, has it been good for this Jew? My impulsive answer is, hell yeah. Not only have I saved a small fortune, getting free stuff makes me feel — how else can I put this? — important.
Does it make me cheap? I hope not. Cheapness has been one of the main canards propagated against Jews over the centuries. Given the philanthropic bent of our community, and my own inadequate but heartfelt tzedakah, I think we can put that one to rest.
There is, however, a grain of truth to it. It’s only human to want to save money and seize opportunities when they come your way.
As a cog in a consumerist culture, I accept that many of the freebies I get are part of well-established marketing strategies. Companies want me to sample their wares. Clients tried to influence me with meals to get me to do their bidding.
The world may not owe me a living, but apparently it owes me free coffee (I’m sure Starbucks comes out ahead on the deal somehow).
As for my work perks at j., it’s a two-way street. I worked hard in Israel writing j. stories and blogging for the federation. The books I’ve snagged expanded my understanding of Jews, Judaism and Israel.
Still, I can’t help wondering why I ended up with such a serious case of the freebie-jeebies. Why does the free stuff make me feel so good?
Here’s one theory: In the section of the Mishna called Ethics of the Fathers, Akavya ben Mahalalel says, “Know from where you came and where you are going. From where have you come? From a putrid drop. Where are you going? To the place of dust, worm, and maggot.”
Thanks for sharing, Akavya.
In between the putrid drop and the maggots, we all want to live as fully and richly as possible. In America, some take that to mean “He who dies with the most toys, wins.”
But everyone knows there’s more to life than a bag o’ swag. Perhaps that feeling I get when things come to me gratis isn’t simply greed. Perhaps it’s a glimpse of Utopia.
I know Jews don’t dwell on heaven or the hereafter. We’re all about right here, right now. So maybe I experience the free trips to Israel as a taste of paradise on Earth, part of an imagined world where everything comes free and easy.
It’s not reality. But in a perfect world it’s how I would want things to be. No quid pro quo. No marketing tricks. No expectations. Just a land flowing with milk and honey… and you never have it pay for it.
Dan Pine can be reached at [email protected].