While my addressing these comments may seem defensive, I can assure you that I delight in the irony. Granted, by some measures I live a sumptuous lifestyle: hot and cold running water, streaming television, and a wide variety of savory Trader Joe's snacks available to me at any given time. Nevertheless, most of us have a fairly specific image in our minds when we imagine what "selling out" looks like, and I'm fairly confident in assuring you that this ain't it.
Of course, as I've mentioned before, people have accused me of selling out for nearly as long as I've been typing this blog. At this moment I don't have the time or the energy to find the first instance of it, but certainly when I announced my then-new Bicycling column in 2009 the pronouncements came fastly and furiously:
Anonymous said...
Did any of you podium twits read the column? He called you assholes and told you to suck his balls while he collect$ from glossy magazines.
MARCH 19, 2009 AT 1:09 PM
AshevilleMountainBikeRacing said...
Jeez.
You could have at least gone with a real bicycling magazine, instead of this "Bicycling" magazine which from my perspective has nothing to do with bicycling whatsoever.
I'm going to the bathroom to vomit, now.
MARCH 19, 2009 AT 1:12 PM
carlos said...
The shark has been jumped!!!
MARCH 19, 2009 AT 1:12 PM
Yes, the shark had been jumped, and the passive voice had been employed!
It all seems so quaint now.
By the way, looking back at that post, I particularly enjoyed this quote from the Bicycling press release:
“After months of begging,’” says Mooney, “BikeSnobNYC finally agreed to bring his unparalleled wit and sense of style to the readers of Bicycling.”
Anyway, I'm especially enjoying this latest round of derision since it gives me an excuse to explore my favorite subject, which is myself. More specifically, it raises what is for me a compelling question: while present-day me is certain he has not sold out, what would the idealistic long-time-ago me think? In other words, if 30 years ago I could see myself right now, would I pass muster in the eyes of a teenager who held anything mainstream in utter contempt?
By way of illustration, here is 30-years-ago-me:
(Photo: Danny Weiss)
I'll allow there's a case to be made that I'd already sold out by wearing a Danzig shirt, and I'm pretty sure that's also a Swatch on my wrist, but I ask that I be judged in the context of the times.
Obviously the simplest way of determining whether or not someone is a sellout is analyzing how they earn their livelihood, so in an act of unprecedented disclosure I'm going to go through my entire resume, starting with my very first paying job:
BSNYC/RTMS/Tan Tenovo Professional Resume and/or Curriculum Vitae
- 16 Years Old Or Thereabouts: Stockboy At a Neighborhood Drugstore
Proprietor let me go after a couple weeks. He claimed he needed someone with a drivers license to make deliveries, the real reason was probably that I was incompetent.
Sellout Status? Not yet, because it was an independently-owned business and not like a CVS or something.
- 16 Years Old, Through High School, and On And Off Through College When I Was Home For Vacations Or Whatever: Stockboy/Cashier/Schlepper/Delivery Boy/Taker Of Abuse At a Neighborhood Hardware Store
I hated every waking moment of this job but I learned a lot about life, people, and, for awhile anyway, hardware. (Though I've since expunged it all from my brain.)
Sellout Status? I suppose working at a job you hate is a kind of selling out, but I always knew I wouldn't be doing it forever, and also it was an independently-owned business. Plus, hardware is like totally blue collar, even if half the customers were buying Weber barbecue grills and filters for their expensive central air conditioning systems.
- 17-21 Years Old: SUNY Albany Art Gallery Assistant
My work-study job in college was helping out at the art gallery. Mostly this involved sitting at a desk doing nothing but occasionally I'd bring my hardware store skills to bear by painting a panel or hanging some art.
Sellout Status? Oh come on.
- 20-21 Or Thereabouts: Intern/Assistant At a Book Publishing House
Towards the end of college I got it into my head I wanted to work in book publishing, so I started interning at a pretentious small press (I realize that's redundant, all small presses are pretentious) in SoHo. The other interns were all Barnard students who had absolutely no interest in being there, which was great for me because it created the impression that I had a work ethic. I worked for free but eventually they started paying me and after I graduated they helped me get a real job.
Sellout Status? Scrappy SUNY student stealing low-paying job from apathetic Ivy Leaguers? That is a blow for the proletariat! (If by "proletariat" you mean suburban English majors.)
- 21 to 23 or 24 Or Thereabouts: Assistant At a Book Publishing House
This was my first "real" job, and it was at one of the big publishing houses. Once again, the fact that most of my work peers had come from fancy private schools and were fairly unmotivated created the illusion I was a highly driven go-getter. However, once it became clear I'd actually have to work hard in order to succeed, I left under the guise of "finding myself" or something.
Sellout Status? I mean sure, it was a big company, but it was a big company that publishes books, not a pharmaceutical company that gets people hooked on opioids.
- 24-Ish I Guess: Bike Messenger, then Assistant to Film Director
I'm lumping these together because I think the total time I spent at both jobs was only like a year, and in a way they were similar in that I mostly ran around bringing stuff to people who were indifferent to me.
Sellout Status? Being a bike messenger is being a bike messenger, and the film director was Michael Moore, so I don't think the kinds of people who accuse people of "selling out" would consider either to be selling out.
- Mid-20s to Mid-30s: Incompetent Literary Agency Associate
After experiencing life as a film industry assistant, which mostly involves people with enormous egos ripping your guts out on a daily basis, I went running back to publishing like a toddler with a boo-boo and proceeded to hide from the world by working at a literary agency for the next 10 years.
Sellout Status? Sucking at your job just badly enough not to get fired isn't exactly commendable behavior, but I don't think it technically qualifies as "selling out." Plus, it was a small company that represents people who write books, not some evil corporation.
- Mid-30s On: You're Looking At It
Writing about bikes.
Sellout Status? Please. I write about bikes. Sometimes I appear in a major publication and say stuff like drivers shouldn't be allowed kill people Let's get real.
So there you go, that's my resume, and I don't think the teenager who used to struggle emotionally when a band he liked signed to a major record label would be too offended by my career trajectory, downward as it may be. In fact, thanks to this slightly embarrassing newspaper clipping from like the Nassau Herald or something, I daresay I fulfilled my modest ambitions:
(I must have been home from college for the summer, working in the hardware store, and bored out of my fucking mind.)
As for what present-day me thinks upon looking back of it all, I'd certainly maintain that I haven't sold out, though I sure have squandered a shitload of incredible opportunities, which is easily about a thousand times worse.
And yes, I know what you're thinking: "You're not telling the whole story. What about household income? Your wife probably does something evil." Okay, you got me, she's an attorney who works for a fossil fuel industry lobbying group.
Just kidding!
Actually she publishes young adult literature, a vocation I'd argue positively oozes integrity.
But it's one thing do say you haven't sold out just because you don't have fuck-you money and a yacht called the "Just Kidding." It's another to say you haven't sold out because someone actually offered you fuck-you money and you refused to take it. I certainly can't claim to have done that. Oh, sure, I've turned down opportunities and told myself I did so because I had integrity, but in retrospect I probably did it because I was scared or lazy or both. (See: squandering opportunities.) Odds are if I hear the "beep-beep-beep" of the money truck backing down the street I'd run right downstairs and guide them safely to my front door.
Hey, I'm not mad at Henry Rollins for doing Infinity voiceovers or whatever he does. Meanwhile there are people who would probably burn all their Dischord records if they saw Ian MacKaye drinking a kombucha or something, so it's all relative.
I guess what I'm saying is fifteen hundred bucks buys this whole blog, cash and carry. Just drop me an email.
from Bike Snob NYC http://bit.ly/2DFk4mo
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