On Gratitude

I have a friend who, upon graduating from college (after a long slog with lots of interruptions), was given a trip to Colorado by his grandmother. Sounds pretty cool for a grandmother, doesn’t it?

This friend was in his mid-20s, had recently come out (though not to his grandmother), and would be staying with his aunt in Colorado. This aunt lived near Breckinridge. Still sounds OK, right? Well, his aunt had three young children, one of whom had a condition that required the use of a wheelchair. And while she wasn’t far from Breckinridge, if the weather were bad it would mean a drive of more than an hour. Her husband worked long days, and she owned a candle store. When she wasn’t at work, her days were filled with cooking, cleaning and therapy and doctor appointments. 

This friend of mine spent nine days holed up in a suburban house with a Christian woman and her kids. He babysat while she went to her store for a few hours here and there. He couldn’t borrow a car to get out on his own because her van was the only wheelchair-accessible vehicle, and her husband needed his car for work. The aunt didn’t steal away for an evening or afternoon out with her nephew or seem particularly troubled that he spent 24/7 with her family, at home. He didn’t get to ski; they didn’t even go anywhere all together. Because he’s polite, both the aunt and the grandmother thought this young man was thrilled with their generous gift.

When he got back, he regaled me with his tales of suburban internment. Shaking my head, I couldn’t imagine how anyone would think this was an appropriate gift for a guy in his 20s. It made me a little angry to think about how his clueless his grandmother was. But what could he do? Anything more than shrugging his shoulders would make him look like a brat.

This impossible situation has been our daily condition for over a year, trying to make the best of a gift we have no control over. A gift that has taken away our security, requires C to work more than 90 hours a week, has crushed our hopes, caused irreparable damage to several relationships among family members and doesn’t provide our family with a paycheck. 

My husband’s restaurant was made possible because of the generosity of two family members. Four years ago when we were deciding whether to leave our jobs, move to another state and try to open a business, we knew this was something we couldn’t do on our own. Or, at least, we wouldn’t have been able to do this on our own for quite some time, if ever, but here was the opportunity in our laps now. We were about to become parents and we knew how dramatically that would change our lives, so it felt like the best time, if ever, to wrap it all up together and make a big leap even bigger. In the words of a good friend who listened to me recite my pro and con list nearly a million times, we said yes to life.

No business partnership, no lending of huge sums of money, comes without strings. The problem is, you can’t exactly ask just what those strings will be when you accept the gift. Thanks for this lovely offer, but how exactly will it inconvenience me? You just don’t ask those questions. You accept, hoping that whatever benevolent impulse gave birth to this offer will guide everyone’s behavior. You have faith – or try your hardest to summon the faith – that since this offer came from a desire to help you, that by its very nature it can’t turn ugly. By this logic, you’d never regret the gift, so of course you’ll accept. Asking a question like, So, how will this work, who’s really going to be in charge? is just petty given the enormity of the offer.

When an offer is altruistic, you don’t foresee control being usurped or blame assigned when the business doesn’t turn a profit or refusal to listen to the partner with more than 20 years of experience in restaurants. You remind yourself that all partnerships are tricky. Even more so when the principals are terrified. “Scared shitless” doesn’t bring out the best in people.

So complaining about the unsavory byproducts of what everyone hoped would be a new life for us seemed … unsportsmanlike. Bad form. Ungrateful.

To make this bright future possible, money had to be borrowed. C felt it was too much. But big risk brings big rewards, didn’t we know that? Who’s right in this situation? C’s fear of debt meant he didn’t value his abilities, all the success literature would say. Borrowing big shows how sure you are of your dream. Look around; read what every asshole puts on Twitter. It’s imperative that you’re certain of success. If you waver, don’t even bother. You obviously don’t want it badly enough.

C was dismissed when he voiced his concerns. After all, this restaurant was going to be for him, and here he is balking at what it requires to get started? He put doubts into everyone’s mind. Why am I investing in him? He’s doesn’t understand business. Aren’t they grateful for all we’re doing for them?

Big dreams are expensive. There came a point where nothing more could be borrowed, so someone stepped up with money from a home equity. C didn’t found out until the first bill came in the mail.

So now we have a restaurant still struggling in its infancy, two men over 40 chronically and physically exhausted, four people on the emotional ledge, a child to raise and educate, a future adoption in limbo, and cash, cars and houses on the line. We were on board when it was just cash at risk but we didn’t find out about the rest of it until it was too late. We were given a paternalistic pat on the head when we protested. 

How much of this are we obligated to be grateful for? At what point can we say, “We never asked for this”? 

We stand to lose plenty, but it’s the other two who will lose it all if this business fails. So on the spectrum of who will suffer more, I have less standing, less right to complain. Even I with my notorious inability to endure stoically in silence know not to complain, but any gratitude I once had has left town with my optimism.

I suppose that does make me an ungrateful brat. Previously an accusation like that would fill me with shame, but this time I’m accepting it.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Tagged as: gratitude, restaurant