the Smartt View

 I met a famous man. While on a plane to Houston, the man sitting next to me set out to convince me that he was famous. He only had two hours to complete the job so he had to talk fast. Real fast. “I’m a trader on Wall Street,” he said. “Yeah. I hit it big in the late ’90s and even though things have slowed, I’m not doing too badly. I work with ‘So and So’ Company. Have you heard of ‘So and So’ Company? You haven’t? They’re really cutting edge and putting up some big numbers right now. Yeah. There’s still some serious money on Wall Street, but you have to know how to find it, how to sniff it out. There was a write-up about me in the ‘So and So’ magazine. Do you ever read the ‘So and So’ magazine? You don’t? Well, it’s one of the more popular magazines in New York and the article basically was talking about trading and how to make the sharpest trades. I mean, some guys get greedy and they lose everything but mostly, it’s ’cause they’re stupid.” The well-dressed young man took a deep breath before Phase Two of the “convincing” process began. He proceeded to tell me in no uncertain terms that he was not stupid nor had he ever been stupid and he didn’t have any plans for stupidity in the near future. He continued, “I mean, I’ve been around trading enough to know how things go wrong. I steer clear of the risks and the stupid trades. Plus, I’m training for a triathlon and that takes a lot of my time. I finished sixth in one of the bigger races in the city. But finishing sixth really bothered me. I knew I could have finished first. I was recovering from an ankle injury and that totally cramped my style that day. I wasn’t on my game. But next time I’ll get in the top five for sure. I won’t settle for less than that.” I smiled. I knew he wasn’t famous. He knew he wasn’t famous. If he had been famous, wouldn’t I have known? I mean, isn’t that what the word “famous” means? If Oprah had sat down next to me, would she have said, “My name is Oprah and I have a talk show and a magazine and people all over the world know and love me.” Of course not. I listened to a young man from Wall Street talk for more than an hour. I nodded my head and feigned enthusiasm for his fame and fortune. He never once asked me a question. Never once acknowledged that perhaps I, too, had contributed something to the world. But that’s OK. When he finally took another breath, I smiled and congratulated him on the triathlon, on the good job with his company. But I felt like I was back on the grade school playground. I was sitting next to a man who had never gotten done with the little games of childhood. He just used bigger words to play the games. He felt compelled to convince a middle-aged woman whom he had never met that he had succeeded in life. I gave him that privilege. It was the one gift I could give the little boy sitting next to me that day. The little boy in the grown man’s suit. ——— Editor’s note: Lisa Smartt’s column appears each Wednesday in the Friends and Neighbors section of The Messenger. Mrs. Smartt is the wife of Philip Smartt, the University of Tennessee at Martin parks and recreation and forestry professor, and is mother to two boys, Stephen and Jonathan. She is a freelance writer and speaker. Her book “The Smartt View: Life, Love, and Cluttered Closets” is available at The Messenger, The University of Tennessee at Martin bookstore or by mail for $10, plus $2 shipping. Send checks to Lisa Smartt, 300 Parrott Road, Dresden TN 38225. She can be reached by e-mail at lisa@lisasmartt.com. Published in The Messenger 9.24.08

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