All For the Low, Low Price of…

A friend from the blogosphere suggested an update on my job search might be of interest to some. But unfortunately, there’s nothing spectacular or, more realistically, even remotely significant to report.

At least the diabolical and anti-life Unemployment Office is out of my life, along with its theatrically thuggish associates trepidation and dread. So I’ve ceased to receive emails, texts, phone calls, and snail mail letters that say: YOU HAVE DARED TO DEFY THE UNIMPEACHABLE ANTITHETICAL LOGIC OF THE UNEMPLOYMENT OFFICE AND HAVE SECURED YOUR DESTINY WITHIN A GALACTIC CANNIBALISTIC EVENT. PLEASE BE AVAILABLE FOR A PHONE INTERVIEW BETWEEN 3 AND 5 ON THURSDAY. FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL RESULT IN VACUUM DECAY and possible cessation of benefits.

Evidently, though, somehow, due to the months-long strikes last year, all of the available captioning/subtitling material in the known universe was catapulted by trebuchet into multiple parallel realities and still has not managed to claw its way back to this one. It’s been as lethargic and sparse and dry as [insert favorite comical sexual aspersion here].

I wanted to share a job that came up in my job feed, though, at Pixelogic here in town, a company that recently laid off hordes of people, including veteran editors who’ve been in the business for decades. Think of the commercials where the guy’s showing off a product that does everything under the sun except for figure out your personal taxes, and all for the low, low price of, say, $19.99, and then look at the requirements and responsibilities listed for this job of Data I/O Specialist.

Some of these cut off mid-sentence, but I don’t know if that was the job feed’s fault or the company’s fault. But Pixelogic is so arrogant and contemptuous of its workforce that it’s not beyond belief that its job ad would contain errors while it simultaneously demands perfection from everyone else. I underlined some of my favorites. I love how, on top of ALL THIS… they still stick in a few “And other duties as assigned,” or “Whatever else we can think of and you’re not gonna say one good goddamn thing about it because there’s a hundred million others who can do this job blindfolded and drunk, and you’re lucky we’re paying you anything.”

And can anyone tell me, for the love of god, what a “geographically agnostic context” is?

QUALIFICATIONS

The ability to function as a team is critical to the success of the Data I/O function

An ability to adapt, be resilient, and creative often will help the team navigate through challenges

A positive supportive attitude is required to influence the success of the team

Priorities and workloads may need to change to meet a temporary need

Represent and uphold all departmental policies and procedures and maintain an exceptional level of

A positive attitude when experiencing obstacles and enthusiasm towards getting work done

Ability and willingness to learn new methods, procedures, or techniques and take on new tasks

Passionate about quality, customer experience and customer service excellence

Detail oriented and strong organizational skills

Excellent in multi-tasking

Excellent communication skills

Ability to work on your own initiative

Great team player and willingness to help and train others

Dependable

Works Autonomously without supervision

Works well under pressure

Willingness to take on new work

Innovative Ideas for Improving the Process

Experience with Internal and External customer communications

Advanced knowledge of Windows, Mac and Linux operating systems including command line

Background or training in IT, postproduction workflows and new media

Experience in industry standard delivery and file transfer mechanisms including Aspera P2P, Aspera Faspex, Signiant, FTP, etc

Experience in dealing with different types of physical media formats including drives, tapes, disks as well as managing LTO archives

Experience in dealing with storage solutions such as Quantum’s StorNext, and LTO

Understanding of computer networks including DMZ, production networks, VPNs, and firewalls

Understanding of computer hardware, protocols, and firewalls in a production environment

Experienced Data Management

Understanding of media including metadata, XMLs, audio and video formats, codec etc

Bachelor’s Degree from an accredited College/University or equivalent professional experience

The Level I Specialist, Data I/O support the team as they work toward the Lead’s daily, weekly, and monthly objectives

The Level I Specialist, Data I/O focus on accurately and consistently completing all work

RESPONSIBILITIES

The Level I Specialist, Data I/O must actively suggest edits to documentation and to workflow

The Data I/O team is by its nature global, consequently this Specialist is expected to participate in local and global activities in a geographically agnostic context

Pulling in work from other locations and asking for assistance when it is needed for the local team

Influencing global efficiencies by load balancing and waste reduction

Completing projects as assigned to improve the reliability of Data I/O as a service

Influencing the performance of departments that use Data I/O technologies but are not within

Contributing to and drawing from global training content and executing the same

Recommending and completing infrastructure projects

Influencing and optimizing workflow enhancements and standardization

Creating, maturing, and monitoring global KPIs

Other duties as assigned

The Level I Specialist, Data I/O is expected to exemplify the values of Pixelogic. Accountability, while Aiming for Perfection, Constantly Improving, Innovating, and Focusing on our Customers, with Integrity, Inclusivity, and Positivity

In addition, the Level I Specialist, Data I/O will be capable of building up the local Data I/O team and influencing the global team positively

Leadership attributes that make Data I/O successful in accomplishing its mission to serve its internal and external customers with excellence in speed, reliability, and accuracy

Level I Specialist, Data I/O solves problems and escalates through the chain of command as needed

Use and promote the OneQ and One Global Team goal

Consistent and constant communication in Teams channels and in email

Fully capable of completing at a minimum Data IO Level I task

Facilitate the delivery of digital files via various file transmissions means such as Aspera (P2P and

Facilitate communication between Data IO and all other departments to schedule and resolve issues within a fast-paced, dynamic workflow

Continuously monitor progress of multiple projects to maximize resources and time efficiency

Run verification tools, such as Verifier ++, MD5 check sums to validate file integrity

Create proxies through proxy creation tools and hot folders

Barcode and log physical assets as they come and notify recipients as soon as possible

Properly scan and check-out physical assets to secure and approved environments for tracking

Create shippers and ship physical assets by coordinating with local couriers or freight companies

Restore digital files from LTO and post to production servers

Archive digital files to LTO for internal and client back-ups

Mount and load digital files to external hard drives

Manipulate files including renaming, renumbering, and updating metadata information

Proactively coordinate with key production stakeholders to manage disk space within SAN and various production servers so minimize delays for incoming files

Maintain DATA IO / Packaging Manual used to communicate summary of platform specifications including manually updating metadata, workability, in-progress, and completion of tasks

Address log issues as they come up or discrepancies in media files when received to expedite possible re-delivery and to minimize delays

Escalate all issues as they come up if deadlines are in jeopardy, especially for media assets that are

service for both external and internal clients

Ensure the security protocols are followed

Other related tasks as assigned to fulfill responsibilities

Communication requirements with Client Representatives and coordinate with on boarding to ensure successful deliveries

Understand, process and initiate escalation processes

And the pay? All this–and more, much more–for the low, low price of $20-$22/hour.

Miracle on a Tuesday

We weren’t looking for a miracle last week, but we got one. It was small and not life-changing in any way, but when you’re not expecting it, it’s especially enjoyable.

But first, things that didn’t happen: We did not spot Sasquatch wandering through Burbank.

We did not gain the ability to fly (but we still want to; who wouldn’t?).

We did not find a bar of gold under a bush in Griffith Park (otherwise this blog would be PAID FOR and ad free)

We did not sell a screenplay or get a Netflix offer for my book, which is still looking for a publisher.

In a similar vein, we did not get rear-ended by Sylvester Stallone and, instead of going through insurance, have him offer to buy one of hubby’s screenplays or turn my book into a Netflix series.

But we did… make an appointment at the DMV for hubby to renew his license and… got in and out in under 20 minutes!

Maybe you’re going, “Duuuuuuuuuh. Who DOESN’T make an appointment at the DMV? Of course it’s faster!”

But the last time we were there years ago, it was not that fast. We were there for at least an hour, possibly more, waiting for numbers to be called, shuffling to one window, shuffling to another, and waiting in line, finally, to get the photo.

This time–zip, zip, zip, no one in line for the photo, click. Outta there. Like so fast our head was collectively spinning.

I’d PREFER a bar of gold and I’d PREFER getting rear-ended by a very guilty Stallone who then falls in love with hubby’s or my writing, but…DMV miracle? That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.

What amazing or unexpected thing has happened to you lately?

What I Did Last Summer: Part II (The horror. The horror)

In 2006, when union negotiations fell through and the head office back east decided to close our LA office down, I was unemployed for about two weeks before I found a job.

This time: not so lucky.

The unexpected foray into the unemployment system has been strange and unsettling, sparking a mysterious, serpentine journey that would make the maze in The Shining, even with your maniac father chasing you through the snow with a pickaxe, seem benevolent.

At least the system exists, that’s true, but I quickly discovered “foot traffic” was no longer allowed, therefore communication is done 99.9% through the laptop and phone.

I’m still not sure to this day how I got the account set up, but after hours and hours and hours of “error message” and “your name does not match your telephone number” and “your image does not match your face,” and “we cannot and never will, in this world or the next one, ever verify your identity,” I was in.

Cat angry about working from home and not being able to leave because of the Covid-19 quarantine. Mm. Spoiled much?

One of the first delightful mandates was a resume writing Zoom meeting. Dozens of people logged in and a state worker droned on and on about nothing informative or of any value to anyone over 35.

But at least one attendee either knowingly or unknowingly had her camera on, and I watched as she flitted around her kitchen cleaning up, arranging items on her counter, disappearing from view for several long moments, and then finally made a pot of coffee that looked really good.

Thankfully, she didn’t pull a Toobin.

Once the door had been opened to the system, however, something much worse than a vampire traipsed in: a monster called Redundancy. I think I would rather have an arrogant, blood-sucking fiend affixed to my neck than to drown in the slew of iterating, pleonastic, supererogatory messages pouring relentlessly from the depthless maw of the unemployment office.

And, yes, I learned all those new words today because “redundant” was too much of a limp, sad understatement.

Anyway, messages from unemployment will entail:

Receiving a text declaring an appointment to verify your eligibility for unemployment.

Receiving an email declaring the appointment.

Receiving a phone call declaring the appointment.

Receiving a message in the unemployment website declaring the appointment.

Receiving a snail mail letter declaring the appointment.

If you take matters into your own hands and call them first to see what the issue is, you’ll then:

Receive a text declaring the appointment is canceled.

Receive an email declaring the appointment is canceled.

Receive a phone call declaring the appointment is canceled.

Receive a message on the website declaring the appointment is canceled.

Receive a snail mail letter declaring the appointment is canceled.

Now, God forbid full-time work remains elusive, because then freelancing might enter your reality, which it did mine.

The benevolent axe-wielding father from The Shining, the (potential but in the end not) Jeffrey Toobin lady in the Zoom meeting, and a hundred million messages raining down on you from Hurricane Unemployment will seem like Valhalla compared to the eye of newt and soul of sparrow witch’s brew of freelance and unemployment certification.

I guess I can’t say I was fully shocked and surprised to learn that any $$ made from freelancing has to be reported and is then deducted from the unemployment payout. I mean, God forbid somebody is actually able to support themselves comfortably while searching for work.

But when I read: “Income (which would be deducted) must be reported whether you have been paid or not,” I smelled something strange suddenly—oh my God, it was smoke!—and I heard a crackling sound—it sounded like fire! Because it was. Steam shrieked out of my ears as the top of my head burst into a raging inferno.

Which, of course, does nothing to change anything. Except my blood pressure.

Now, God forbid, one more time, that you report earnings one pay period, don’t make any the next, then go back to earning.

I’ll give you a clue what happens. It begins with texts, ends with snail mail, and is all caps in between: WE ARE GOING TO CALL YOU BECAUSE YOU MAY NO LONGER QUALIFY FOR UNEMPLOYMENT.

Or, conversely, oddly: YOU HAVE INDICATED THAT YOU ARE WORKING FOR SO AND SO COMPANY AND HAVE BEEN LAID OFF AND YOU ARE APPLYING FOR UNEMPLOYMENT.

What? Not qualify anymore? WHAT DID I DO WRONG? And did I get a job at NASA that I’m not aware of and get booted out already? I didn’t apply for unemployment all over again. What IS HAPPENING?

Speaking of NASA, signing up for job notifications has been useful only because I can experience overlapping mescaline hallucinations without ever having to actually take it. No matter how specifically I tweak my profile information to contain keywords like: editor, proofreading, QC, writing, typing 100 wpm, etc., I will be informed that these jobs are available: truck driver, neurosurgeon, professional actor.

Today I received: Clay sculptor.

I like the idea of clay sculpting. I just have no idea what typing has to do with clay. When I looked into it, btw, it actually involved automotive design. $120,000-$146,000 a year. Not the kind of clay sculpting I was imagining, and now I’m newly regretting majoring in English.

This has all been a learning experience that I’ll never forget. And one I hope to never go through again. I realize that I picked a niche job market leading to a life similar to giant pandas who have backed themselves into an evolutionary corner by only consuming bamboo.

But then again: Does it really have to be this hard? It actually didn’t used to be this hard. It is definitely getting harder. For everyone.

I could end this with a statement attributed to Rockefeller’s Masonic creed, which has been proven to not be penned by him, but which was still written by someone, somewhere, nonetheless, that may not be a satisfactory explanation as much as a potential one while voicing malicious and nefarious intent:

“We will keep their lives short and their minds weak while pretending to do the opposite.”

But this is Laughter Over Tears, after all. I should probably end on an up note. In defiance of secret societies and the wicked 1%. So I will. On several, in fact:

Do not take life too seriously. You will never get out of it alive. Elbert Hubbard

I’m sick of following my dreams, man. I’m just going to ask where they’re going and hook up with them later. Mitch Hedberg

Life would be tragic if it weren’t funny. Stephen Hawking

I always wanted to be somebody, but now I realize I should have been more specific. Lily Tomlin

When life shuts a door, open it again. It’s a door. That’s how they work. Anonymous

Calling All Writers: Ho!

Glen of the Scenic Writer’s Shack is throwing a writing competition. Really short (400 words minimum, 500 maximum) and cash prizes! We have to the end of February to hand our masterpieces in. Drop in at his site to see requirements. I hope to see a bunch of you there!

The Scenic Writer’s Shack 2024 Short Story Comp

Happy Holidays 2023

Me and my bro, back in the day. Evidently, pessimism is an old friend of mine.

Happy holidays to you and yours!

What I Did Last Summer: Part I

Seven or eight or nine years ago (I don’t remember the exact number because I’ve repressed it), Doom walked into my place of work dressed in business casual attire. Hair styled in a manner similar to game show hosts, male or female–take your pick–from the ‘80s. Easy, confident smile plastered on a bland politician-like, feminine or masculine face. Is this a true story? Maybe. But for sure it’ll be a familiar tale, either way.

The minute Doom entered the room, friendly-like, flying plans and promises like a kite above our heads and beneath the fire suppression sprinklers, I think we all heard the clock start ticking. I tried to get out. Before whatever was gonna happen happened. I swear, I tried. But everywhere I looked or interviewed, things seemed like out of the frying pan into the fire.

So I stayed in the pan. And anyway, I liked what I did. I didn’t really want to leave.

In a tale as old as time, for the purposes of this one, at least, original owner sold us off to new guy. Nothing stays the same, but it’s always painful the moment one realizes betamax and encyclopedias are headed the way of the dinosaurs. Picture a mom and pop corner market being bought out by Whole Foods. See the Wonder Bread and handmade jewelry being tossed out out into the alley? Replaced by Dave’s Killer Bread Organic 21 Whole Grains and Seed and earbuds for your MP3 player.

Doom surfed in on a corporate wave, restructuring and bureaucratizing in the midst of graceless kick flips, leaving a sterile, cactus-studded landscape behind. But maybe I’m being too harsh. The revamp was for our own good, and Doom was like the doctor/scientist who saved Steve Austin’s life by turning him into a cyborg.

A few years later, as the narrative goes, or as universally expected, like a super-ambitious pimp or wily bordello owner, Doom sold us to another company.

Oh, so we had not been transformed by emergency surgery into the cybernetic [insert job here] company of the future, destined to carve a new path, our own path, to [insert product here] greatness? No. We were somebody else’s bitch now, bought and sold like a cheap whore. It happened pretty fast. But not that fast. But fast enough. People would still be trying to figure out where that fur coat had come from before they even realized they’d been kidnapped.

Soon the next protagonist of this story, the new company, began to parrot Doom’s Animal Farm word salad sales pitch: Some changes coming, yes, but nothing too big, only good things, and look at all these extra holidays you get to celebrate! (I’d never had the honor of working somewhere before, btw, that actually celebrated Martin Luther King’s birthday, and was looking forward to it). Thank you for all your hard work and dedication. You are truly appreciated. Thank you, thank you, thank you, and welcome to the family!

Gotta admit: did feel welcomed. And started to feel something new: tiny little questing tendrils of hope.

The call came one sunny morning last spring. A couple months after integration. And because this is only a tale of one city, not two, seven or eight or nine years had passed, but I was somehow still 39. Such are the joys of fiction and fantasy. That early spring, though, if there had been a call, someone would have been on the phone saying their name was Cutthroat, although I didn’t know any Cutthroats. Unless this was a ghost from my past, the years I spent as a brigand in Middlesex, England, making an unsuccessful living from highway robbery.

“Hi, Stacey, this is Cutthroat “It’s Only Business” Brown calling.”

“Cutthroat?I don’t know any Cutthroat.” My mind spun in a panic, trying to recall the hazy faces of my long-ago team of marauders.

“No, Cutthroat, from the main office.”

“I’m sorry, Cutthroat who? The main office?”

“Yes…”

And then it clicked. It was Doom! Which sounded a lot like Cutthroat “It’s Only Business” Brown, so who could blame me? It was Doom! On the phone, calling me in the morning, monologuing like every good villain in any good tale, just like this one! And then the click turned into a sucker punch, ‘cause I realized that the only reason Doom would be on the phone with me right now—something that had never happened before in the history of the world—would be either to give me a gigantic raise or bonus, or…

I guess it doesn’t take a rocket scientist, as my husband likes to say, to go with the “or.” Which was not getting a bonus or promoted just for being me. It was getting laid off. Wrenched—jerked, flung–out of the pan. But not into the fire. Into a deep, still silence called unemployment. ‘Cause Doom was closing the office and letting everyone go.

And that’s the tale of what I did last summer. Weirdly, as fictional or nonfictional situations go, sudden things can prove to be freeing on a surprising amount of levels. Got a lotta crap done around here! Got a lotta writing accomplished. But potentially experiencing observational freedom in the middle of two strikes that directly related to what I and the others do for a living didn’t help. You can pick from a list: graphic artist, script continuity, puppeteering, catering, special effects, costuming. Just not acting. Way too shy for that.

However, the hue and cry which arose in the main office after the business dealings (betrayal) was heart-warming, I gotta say. There were reports of those who straight up quit, murmurs from some who planned to follow. As soon as they could. Get out of the pan. If this wasn’t more than just a story.

I can see Doom, or the universal villains that play Doom–since this is naught but a fairytale with a somewhat unhappy ending, complete with stomping trolls and fleeing peasants, and absolutely no joyful reunions with ex-desperados from years gone by–feet on the desk, toothpick flicking those last shreds of meat or figure-conscious salad out of their teeth, giving absolutely no f***s. About the stunned confusion, the surging tide of woe. Leaning back in the chair, the game playing on a flat screen on the wall, or maybe repeats of The Kardashians, waiting, irritated, for a plebeian to deliver the coffee.

Several years ago Doom got into a situation involving alternative existence options. In essence: potentially becoming unalive. The story circulated, how close they’d been to entering the light but how lucky they’d been to sidestep eternity. Crickets chirped and tumbleweeds blew by. Nobody talked about it. No one seemed to care about Doom’s close call. I can liken it to the headline I saw in Yahoo the other day: “McCarthy’s (the guy that was the Republican Speaker of the House for an hour and a half) hometown sheds few tears for retiring lawmaker.”

So no hue and cry for some. But after all, as these familiar tales tend to go, they worked hard to earn it.

To be continued: The Sublime Horrors of Unemployment and Freelancing.

Psst: DeSantis! Pot Meet Kettle.

Regarding DeSantis and “slaves learning valuable skills,” aside from the delusional arrogance of that statement, he’s forgetting the literal life skills provided by Native Americans to the settlers because they were starving and freezing and incapable of survival. Without the First Americans’ help, settlers wouldn’t have lived long enough for later generations to then make moronic statements about skills and who, exactly, had them.

Some life events have occurred here in sunny California, and I’ve taken a break from blogging. I’ve missed your posts and hope to be back exchanging comments and info. soon. And I hope all is well with you all.

FORGET THE ALAMO

Innocent Texians minding their own business were suddenly challenged by Mexican General Santa Anna then brutally murdered at the Alamo in San Antonio, Texas?

Davy Crockett went down fighting in heroic glory for what he believed was good and true: American ideals of righteous justice?

Brave Texians stayed till the last man, defending– as https://www.thealamo.org/remember/battle-and-revolution puts it– freedoms worth fighting for?

Um…no.

In the painting in that link, super-dark, depraved-looking Mexicans confront an angry Anglo who looks a lot like a ‘70s actor whose name I can’t recall. Six Million Dollar Man actor, possibly? Not that being super-dark is a bad thing, obviously, or that many Mexicans aren’t super dark (many are), but the painting made damn sure to represent that aspect, compounded by demented, almost animalistic expressions.

As the country goes into its second official year of acknowledging/celebrating Juneteenth, when Texas freed its enslaved populace 2 ½ years after emancipation, I thought of the Alamo, since it’s in Texas too, and the fact that the cry of “Remember the Alamo” had nothing to do with the myth that was painted of that battle and had a lot more to do with the fight to retain slavery.

Because, as we know now (but not as we were taught in school; at least not in the recent past) Mexico was straight-up abolitionist.

A Time magazine article https://time.com/6072141/alamo-history-myths/ says this: Stephen F. Austin, the so-called “Father of Texas,” spent years jousting with the Mexico City bureaucracy over the necessity of enslaved labor to the Texas economy. “Nothing is wanted but money,” he wrote in a pair of 1832 letters, “and Negros are necessary to make it.”

As I told fellow blogger Glen, of Scenic Writer’s Shack, who posted a beautiful letter from a former slave to his former “master” in commemoration of Juneteeth–https://scenicwritersshack.com/2023/06/16/classic-letter-from-1865/?c=9019#comment-9019—“Yeah, I bet ‘Negros’ are necessary to make it. Here’s a thought: Why don’t you get up off your ass and do it yourself?”

When Mexico opened interior Texas for colonization, thousands of Texians (Anglo-American residents of Mexican Texas) poured in and established towns and businesses. When Mexico insisted that they follow Mexican laws and pay Mexican taxes, they refused. When the Mexican government tried to collect taxes, the Texians fought and killed Mexican soldiers. When Mexican law enforcement went after the killers, the colonists, backed by myriad (American) financiers and mercenaries, including Latino Texans, revolted violently.

And let’s not forget slavery. Texians: For. Mexico: Against.

So, no.

According to records and reports that have been struggling to surface for decades, everyone didn’t stay, fighting to the bitter, glorious end. At least half of the Texians turned tail and ran.

And while some conservative Republicans fight tooth and nail to ban Toni Morrison and whatever Harry Potter book they’re angry/confused about, they also see fit to ban the truth of an important moment in Texan history from ever seeing the light of day.

Including the fact that Davy Crockett did not fight until the bitter end, as John Wayne—your friendly resident Vietnam draft dodger—was so enthusiastic to portray in his Alamo fantasy movie. Crockett, in reality, surrendered and was later executed.

The Tejanos, Texas Latinos allied with the Americans, who fought side by side with them, were later written out of this history and also, by the way, ethnically “cleansed” out of Texas later entirely.

One of the articles I used for research is entitled: Forget the Alamo.

Maybe we should do that.

And, one more time, let’s remember slavery. And who was in the wrong. Again. And who was in the right.

Texians: For.

Mexicans: Against. As anyone in their right mind should be.

10 Inspiring Attic Libraries

I had to reblog this, because I could pretty much die happily in any one of these rooms. Thanks, Aspasía!

Aspasía S. Bissas

Photo by Mathias P.R. Reding on Pexels.com

I’ve never had a proper attic anywhere I lived, the kind where it’s a large, open space with a high, sloping ceiling and at least one window (in newer buildings “attics” tend to be windowless crawlspaces full of insulation). But I was always fascinated by these spaces. The ones I’d see on TV always seemed mysterious, full of treasures (and dust), maybe a little creepy. I didn’t really start coveting an attic of my own until I realized they could be renovated. The potential seems unlimited for these private bonus spaces, something these attic owners clearly got.  Here are some of my favourite attic libraries, as found around the internet….

1. I love the floor, as well as the shelves reaching the ceiling. It also looks like there’s plenty of good light for settling in with one of those books.

2. With stained glass…

View original post 441 more words

The Unexpected Villains of Howards End

I saw a movie the other day with the most disturbing villains you could imagine: the hidden, subtle, even unintentional kind.

Nobody was locked in a basement. There were no knives or guns. There was no plot to rob the bank and steal the gold. Except…maybe there was all this and more. Executed in a much more sinister manner.

How else could you explain, in 1992’s Howards End (based on E.M. Forster’s 1910 novel) a dying woman bequeathing her family’s home to someone who’s not much more than an acquaintance?

As summarized in IMDB: The film juxtapositions the intellectual, emotionally unhindered Schlegel sisters against the restrained, imperious Wilcox family.

Helen Schlegel, the younger of the sisters, is definitely unhindered (and thoughtless) when she absentmindedly absconds with the wrong umbrella after attending a public lecture. Leonard Bast, a low-paid insurance clerk, has to literally chase after her to get his brolly back.

I understand how he feels. Years ago when I was living in NYC, a coworker asked to borrow a token. When she never replaced it or paid me back in the following days, I was annoyed, and embarrassed that I was annoyed, but I was actually so broke that I didn’t even have an extra $5 back then.  So I could completely relate to the poor insurance clerk.

Unfortunately, after Leonard reacquires his umbrella from Helen, his life will begin a relentless downward spiral.

Long story short: Ruth Wilcox’s dying wishes are ignored by her husband Henry, along with their children. Henry’s keeping the house.

Henry falls for Margaret Schlegel and marries her, so ironically, she ends up at Howards End anyway.

Following some fallacious information from Henry, Leonard quits his stable insurance job and accepts a lower-paying position in another company where, shortly after, he’s sacked.

Jack London called those of Leonard’s status the “people of the abyss,” which reminded me of Hillary Clinton calling Trump followers a “basket of deplorables,” although Jack London was speaking from empathy, actually having lived among the poverty-stricken denizens of London’s Whitechapel.

An outraged public scene from Helen on behalf of Leonard ultimately accomplishes nothing…especially when she later gets knocked up by Leonard. Yeah, Helen cared about Leonard. Apparently…a lot.

Later when Leonard visits Howards End to see Helen, Henry’s brutish frat boy son Charles assaults him (for knocking up Helen and for being poor while he did it) and lets a bookcase flatten him, whereupon Leonard has a heart attack and dies.

Once all personalities have been revealed and motives disclosed and the consequences have unfurled, it’s obvious that a lot of people are locked in a basement, Leonard among them, and all those incapable of fighting classism, much less breaking through to something better.

In the form of intellectual and emotional snobbery, whether intentional or not, we have metaphysical knives and guns and bombs galore causing great harm to the human psyche. Even Charles’s physical assault didn’t directly kill Leonard; his endless upward trudging on a downhill escalator weakened his resolve and his immune system, aiding in his demise.

And, of course, the bank was robbed of its gold when Henry disregarded his wife’s wishes (even if Mrs. Wilcox was a villain in her own right as a deluded martyr) and kept Howards End in the family.  When he reveals this to Margaret at long last, she says nothing.

Oh, the noble restraint, to keep from commenting on Henry’s dishonesty! Because Margaret, soft spoken, reasonable and so seemingly kind, is one of the biggest villains of them all, a member of the intellectual bourgeoisie who’s used to things like this happening all the time: having a few teas with a passing acquaintance who, before she expires, bequeaths her house to her without discussing it with anyone in her family.

A year or so later, as Leonard molders in the ground, Margaret and Helen play with Helen’s baby on a blanket in the fields encompassing Howard’s End, surrounded by endless beneficence and the perpetual belief that all is right with the world, because beauty reflects beauty, and an abundance of goodness only creates more. And watching them in the wild field, crowded with flowers and golden sunshine, laughing and happy, one is easily seduced by this dream, because they look so beautiful and pure, and that’s all that we can see.