I had lunch with a group of folks from work recently. The ceremonial get-together (to honor a few of our colleagues) occurred at a rather classy French restaurant (The Left Bank) in downtown Larkspur, California. Larkspur is the tiny San Francisco suburb where I currently reside, in Marin County, which, according to Wikipedia, was the county with the highest per capita income in the country per the 2000 census.
It was one conversation in particular during this event that got me to thinking...and still has me deep-in-thought. What’s on my mind is the whole matter of “social class.”
The two individuals on my left were engaged, for a time, in a dialog about places they’ve lived and visited; both of them are extremely well-traveled. So, when such places as Hong Kong, Paris (or even Philadelphia!), were brought up...well, there simply wasn’t anything for me to contribute to the conversation. I’ve been to a lot of the states in the United States, and lived in five of them, but I’m most definitely not a world traveler. I obtained a passport for the first time ever this year, though it remains unused and stored in my sock drawer. (And, I’ve never been to such obvious American places as Philadelphia or New York.)
Then, when lunch was served, they talked about the food. One of them had, like me, ordered the salmon. When asked how it was, she said, unenthusiastically, “oh, it’s ok.” (My reply would have been, “it’s wonderful!”) The other one commented similarly on his lunch and speculated about the spices used in its creation. (I wouldn’t ever have a clue about such a thing.)
In terms of “worldliness,” these two individuals, both about my age, clearly eclipse me. I felt out-classed because I was. Although a casual observer would likely place us all in the “upper-middle-class” of American society because of our education, occupations, and income levels, by sitting next to these two, and listening in on their conversation, I was aware of what I’d call a “class distinction.”
Both of my parents were high-school graduates, and I was the first in my family to attend college. Subsequently, after my bachelor’s degree, I proceeded over the course of my lifetime to earn three more graduate degrees. In terms of educational attainment in this country, I must place in the top couple of percentage points: I am not only highly educated, I am (admittedly) overeducated.
However, I continue to be aware, in situations like this lunch-time conversation, that my roots, and class origins, are decidedly not “upper” anything. I remain small-town working-class at my core: my educational achievements alone having contributed to an enhanced class status. I possess a set of life experiences and financial deficiencies that have apparently kept me stuck with the outlook and narrowness of the lower-middle-class.
Surely a person more worldly than me has: Traveled. Experienced. Tasted. More.
My lack of worldliness is a source of embarrassment for me, and it’s something I try desperately to conceal...you know, other than when I am confessing to it here.
Soundtrack Suggestion
Oh lets get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France
Lets get rich and give everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance
Lets get rich and build a house on a mountain making everybody look like ants
From way up there, you and I, you and I
(“You and I” – Ingrid Michaelson)