Confidence Artist

I. I’ve seen this man before.

I’m here at Starbucks trying to do some research about how I should be planning my future, but it’s hard to concentrate when two tables from me, a man is conning eight just-about-to-get-out-of-high-school kids out of the possibility, no matter how weak, of a meaningful career in something.

All around me there’s Ponzi schemes. All around me there’s people trying different, templatised approaches to tempt different sorts of templatised folks into selling dreams of timeshares to other, more desperate folks. The myth never died here. It grew stronger because no-one asphyxiated it. And for every person that sees this desperate, impotent greed for what it is, there’s a hundred who only see ambition.

I’ve seen the man before, chastising a guy not more than two years older than these kids for dilly-dallying on an opportunity that would be sure to change his life. He didn’t get to where he is — financial independence — turning down opportunities. Life isn’t kind to people who turn down opportunities, probably because opportunities are hard to come by. And if you aren’t sure, he asked the kid, how’re you going to convince others to buy into this wonderful opportunity? How’re you going to make the pitch effectively? When will you learn? When will you learn?

Anger is the final refuge of the afraid.

I wish I could’ve told the other kid that this guy, not more than couple of years older than him, has targets to meet. This kid was just a target. To this guy, it wasn’t personal. This guy was another couple thousand bucks, an hour well-spent, good practice for CASE II of the pitch. Today, it’s another kind of audience, another sort of pitch. These kids are about to get into a board examination they aren’t sure they’ll get out of unscarred. And college? What college?

They already needed an extra-ordinary flop to overcome the unfair hand their folks had been given, and instead they had fallen for the wrong boy at the wrong time, or sat on their brother’s bike at a particularly impressionable age, or started smoking cigarettes, or were just not the best student in class, just didn’t like Geography. That’s the flop they got. And here was a guy offering to keep them liquid until the next round.

Besides, he must be at least a little successful, I’m sure they thought. He’s, what, not more than five years older than us, and he’s asking all of us — want something to drink? Cold coffee? Hot chocolate? Anything? And he’s so cool. High-fiving us. Laughing at all our jokes. Making little in-jokes about our friends he’s never met. A steady stream of pick-me-ups for Sania, who’s always been low on confidence. Quick to do the math on the amount of money needed to survive as an artist for Chirag.

II. He’s the CEO.

Guys, he’s the CEO, Charmi says. She’s got Sania laughing, high-fiving her. They’ve known each other since they were nine, she tells him. She knows everything about her. She knows Sania is afraid her mum won’t approve, she tells him. Her mum wants her to go to college. I’m not the CEO, he says, self-deprecatingly, and changes the topic; situation defused. He’s going to revisit the topic of Sania’s mum at some point. Now’s not the opportune moment. CASE IV of the manual, which covers groups of cackling eighteen-year-olds, is pretty clear on when the topic of parents must be directly addressed, and not just deftly avoided. And now’s not the time.

Money means something completely different to an eighteen-year-old. It means going out on real dates — no need for pocket money. It means buying booze without having to worry about your folks — no need for pocket money. It means getting your hands on that killer bike your brother has, except two years before he got it — can’t do that with pocket money. And it means no more classrooms. That’s a nice thought — no more classrooms. If you can make money without having to go to class, would you go to class?

III. Go fish.

Money means something completely different to eighteen-year-olds. He knows this when he tells them about Jasmine and Joshua. Joshua, in college and without a job, struggles to make ends meet on the meagre pocket money he gets. And has no time; who has time when all your time goes to classes? And who wants to study Accounting? What good does accounting do? They all laugh. They all high-five him.

Hook.

Ramesh raises his hand. What about Jasmine?

Charmi: Hold on, no!

I’ll tell you, baba. Jasmine’s going to college next year. She’s taken a year off. To learn about the world around her. Earn some money. Some extra cash to pad her pockets. Just one year, and she’ll go to a better college than Joshua, because she’s better prepared. Live a better life. They’re all nodding. No hands go up.

Line.

And she’ll free her parents of the burden of paying for her stuff. See, Sania’s mom is not wrong. She wants her to go to college so she’ll have a stable future. So she’ll be able to do well. That’s what your parents want: for you to do well, for you to be able to support yourself. So do well. Support yourself. However you see fit. It really is up to you. Sania, you can do whatever you want if you set your heart to it. Anything.

Sinker.

Once the fish are in the boat, you can take your time to figure out what you want to do with them. There’s plenty of buyers for the catch. There’s all sorts of sellers in all sorts of markets. All sorts of wads of cash to be handed out to fishermen like him. Every day, when he gets back home, his wife covers her nose, and all but orders him into the bathroom. He tries and tries, but he can never get rid of the stench.