I WANT NEVER GETS
Yesterday morning, around this time (4:30!) Amazon had me thinking about wants; specifically the Musthavenow Reflex. I’d just scheduled a delivery of Jordan Peterson’s “12 Rules for Life” for 15 minutes thence. “That was soon enough,” I thought, “to start getting with the program.” But then, as I was twiddling my thumbs, itching at my arms, my grandmother came to mind. Because it was she who said, “I want never gets.” I knew what she meant by this: She was talking about the family-wide concern for “spoiling” only children, i.e. me. And if I carried on asking for things in rude ways, I, Alexa, would have nothing.
When advertising began in earnest almost a century ago, it offered useful information on useful things, e.g. lightbulbs which could be bought down the road at Woolworth’s for a few pence. But before too long, a utilitarian picture of a utilitarian 100-watt lightbulb (which would help me read in the falling dusk) became – thanks to Saatchi & Saatchi – a picture of a possible me, reading my book bathed in soft light while my 2.4 kids played with dollies and trains around my chintz armchair. All of a sudden, perfectly doable contentment jumped to (perceived) lack, which then jumped to need, which then jumped to want, which then (and more dangerously) jumped back to lack; which then, with greater urgency, jumped to want again, which – by then – felt a lot like hunger.
It was a leap, but I jumped to Cinderella and the Yesyoucangototheball! Phenomenon; how poor old Cinders, heretofore do-ably content, was delivered from her sylvan life with mice and birds and blessed, for a couple of hours, with a Tesla truck and a sky-blue number from Neiman’s. Everything was great; she didn’t have time to miss her bird and mice friends! And, frankly, those friends weren’t that great anyway. As for that ashy old dress? Why had no one told her it was junk – or that it made her look fat?
There’s a song I like. It’s called “Sit Down” by James, an English band from Manchester. And it’s this line, in particular, that has me tapping on my own tomb: Now I've swung back down again And it's worse than it was before. If I hadn't seen such riches I could live with being poor. This isn’t monkey see, monkey do; it’s monkey see, monkey want, monkey crave. We’re just chimps, after all.
So maybe my grandmother wasn’t being a drag and wasn’t necessarily speaking about rudeness. Perhaps her grim-sounding edict was subtler, more prophetic, and she was meaning that unending want never yields; and how perceived lack can be dangerous because, even though our latest thing is out for delivery, it’s never really going to arrive.
AB - 9.5.24