A SENSE OF ENTITLEMENT
April 27th, 2012
MSNBC spent three days regurgitating the story of a child at a baseball game who was caught on national TV cameras wailing pitifully because a foul ball that had landed nearby was not delivered to him. Instead it was picked up by a woman who held it up delightedly while her husband took photos with his smart phone. The sportscaster got his panties in a terrible wad over this, announcing to a deeply interested nation that the child had been deprived by insensitive adults of what (we must assume) was rightfully his. In a follow up interview of the couple who acquired the ball, they explained they didn’t even see the child. They’d just got married and were caught up in the excitement of the moment and the day. Never mind all that, the image that would live forever (or at least 15 minutes) in the minds of the public was a piteously crying child who had been deprived of what was his.
If it wasn’t his, where did all the sympathy and mini-moral outrage come from? The sports announcer dramatically spun the incident that way, as did MSNBC talkers who kept the idiot story alive for three days: the child was the victim. Public sentiment seemed to be totally with the child. Wait a minute… hang on…
Sorry, I had to go throw up. Now I’m back. The child wasn’t a victim. He was just a child who was crying because he couldn’t have something he wanted. But look closer: not every child would act this way. Another child, a perfectly normal child, might have noticed the baseball and shown little or no interest. Or become frightened. This child’s response suggests he probably got a lot of what he wanted, from loving and perhaps doting parents, and therefore felt entitled to some outrage when he wasn’t gifted with the ball.
Well, there’s that word: entitlement. It’s been floating around a lot lately in the news. For several weeks you could hear it frequently in relation to wealthy Republicans who were out of touch with the problems of the middle class. You could also hear it in discussions of Free Market economics. Like the tiny baseball fan, wealthy business executives and entrepreneurs feel outraged when government threatens to take away what is rightfully theirs (the wealth they acquire through work or contrivance) and distribute it to the Have-Nots. The entrepreneur’s Inner Child is exteriorized in the wailing infant baseball fan/victim.
The sense of entitlement seems to be a deep and abiding theme in American Society. Madison Avenue has certainly discovered it, and forged it into a powerful selling strategy.
Consider an ad from the now defunct Hummer Automotive, which depicted a young lad building a soap box racer for an upcoming event. He fiddled with his dad’s tools, and constructed a credible looking vehicle which–well for heaven’s sake–looked a lot like his dad’s Hummer. The scene switched to the race event, where the diminutive hero is shown winning—by taking a shortcut off the racetrack.
This month I saw another commercial which is as odious as the Hummer ad, if not more so. A young, yuppie-esque couple is shown charging into a laundry. They throw a load really dirty clothes (we see it’s trendy hiking or camping gear) on the counter. While the proprietor watches in confusion, they get another armload of filthies and throw them down with the rest. Sand and dirt are trickling out on the counter, and a small sea creature, possibly a crab, crawls out of the heap and waves at the viewing audience. We get no explanation from the couple, they just rush back out the door. The proprietor now steps around the mess and looks out his shop window. We see the hero and heroine of the commercial driving off in a Land Rover. The laundry owner is left with a massive pile of totally trashed clothes—presumably from recent exciting adventures—but not a word of thanks. The unspoken message is, “here, Jeeves, take care of this promptly.” But to make the message work, the owner can’t show annoyance or be indignant. Nope, he has to buy into it, so we’re left with a profile of the laundry owner’s face. It is wistful, apparently reflecting his acceptance that this wealthy young couple is free to roam the world and have exciting adventures in their new Land Rover, while he (a simple provider of menial services lacking wealth) can only watch wishfully for a moment, before shuffling off to clean up their mess.
That really stinks.
The prize for the most over-the-top commercial of this genre goes to BMW, which is currently running an ad showing the driver of a BMW sedan speeding down a highway. He opens his sun roof, and holds his empty cup in the slipstream above the car. A 4 engine jet tanker swoops in, lowers its fueling nozzle, and fills his cup. It’s a commercial touting the good gas mileage of the big BMW sedans, but the covert message is that BMW ownership gets you the nice perk of having your smallest needs fulfilled by a big jet plane.
These ads have something very troubling in common. They depict, in artful and attractive ways, that a sense of entitlement comes from having money. If I have money, the ads say, the world will bend over backwards to meet my needs. I can make my own rules, I can be rude to people who have less than I do, and I can even expect them to clean up my messes. That’s troubling, both because people shouldn’t feel entitled like that, and because big advertising agencies shouldn’t think it’s OK to use such a sleazy message to sell their products. I could credit the ad agencies for creating great commercials around this theme, but that would be like crediting someone for having a really great case of Herpes.
Of all these social images, the most troubling is the face of the laundry operator as he watches the happy/wealthy couple speeding off in their Land Rover status symbol: he accepts his diminished status, and envies them. A mentally healthy merchant would have observed the mess being dumped on his counter and held up his hand: Wait! What is this? Take these clothes out of my shop, shake out the sand and sea creatures. Rinse them, fold them in a clean laundry basket, and bring them back. Then I’ll clean them for you.
But the laundryman doesn’t say that. He buys into the awful social myth that wealth conveys entitlement. Sad, and Scary, because the face of the laundryman is the face of Middle Class America.


