Who Knows You

Dearest Rachel –

There’s a cynical saying that’s gone around for generations that “it’s not what you know, but who you know.” Essentially, all the education in the world won’t necessarily get you as far as having certain contacts. And, depending on the field you’re trying to break into (and your definition of success) that is a sad fact of life. The rich get richer (as the lamentation goes) because the rich know the rich, and can broker deals with them, thus growing richer. Even the systems that are set up to supposedly level the playing field a bit, like the stock market (where the average investor can own a piece of even the biggest and most important companies, and reap proportionate profits from their investments), are weighted such that those who you know can let you know about certain opportunities before the hoi polloi are made aware of them. Now technically, this is called ‘insider trading,’ and is considered illegal, but if you know the right someone (or someones), even that can theoretically be ‘taken care of.’

But that’s all in theory. Theory backed up by plenty of examples, no doubt, but without definitive proof (after all, if a crime was proven, a person would go to jail for it or suffer some form of punishment, thus negating the theory in his or her example).

Personally, I think the claim is too cynical by half. Besides, it doesn’t adequately define the concept of ‘knowing’ someone. That could just as easily refer to simply knowing about someone (which can be accomplished by a quick perusal of Wikipedia, where folks at every level of famous has got an entry, cobbled together in some cases in less that the fifteen minutes Andy Warhol promised us all). As an example of this, I know who Taylor Swift is – although, to be honest, I admit to confusing her with Katy Perry more often than I probably should – which, combined with some twelve hundred bucks, might get me a seat at one of her concerts, I’m led to understand. So knowing someone, in this case, gets me nowhere – not that it matters to me, not being a Swifty (do her fans really call themselves this, by the way?) myself.

On the other hand, I submit that the true test of success is not as much about who you know, as you knows you. Just knowing who Taylor Swift is won’t get me into the arena to watch her perform, but if Taylor and I were one a first-name basis with each other, that would be a different story. I’d probably be able to visit her backstage and catch up with her when she came to town; and I might even want to do so.

***

I bring all of this up, because I have someone who knows and is (for whatever reason, but I’m grateful that he is) looking out for me in a particular situation germane to today. While I’ve essentially given up on AnimeIowa, now that you and everybody else I used to meet there is no longer there, I’m still half-heartedly keeping up with AnimeCentral – especially since the boys are actually more interested in the convention these days than I ever was.

The thing is, there’s no room for half-heartedness when it comes to booking a hotel stay for one of these conventions, as you well know. The room blocks for the various hotels surrounding the convention center have been opening up a few at a time, and the rooms are generally snapped up in a matter of minutes. I have to be right on top of these things, despite being somewhat indifferent to the whole idea these days; mine is not an attitude that’s conducive to the situation at hand.

Fortunately, Doc serves as my conscience, my Jiminy Cricket if you will, reminding me of everything I need to do, right down to the fact that my plan to engage and book via the convention website is a much less efficacious one than working through either Twitter or Discord (both of which I have, but neither of which I use very often, nor am I particularly skilled in their use as a consequence). Some twenty minutes before zero hour, he’s texting me with these tips, and I’m busily trying to follow his suggestions, looking for the convention on Discord (and not finding it until I decide to go through the convention’s website to find its channel, rather than looking on Discord itself, but at least I have a few minutes to spare). I barely make it to the community announcements subchannel when the links are released.

“Go, go, go!” A few minutes later, Doc is practically laughing about how he sounded like a drill sergeant, yelling at me like I was about to hit the beach at Normandy, but in the moment, it’s a fairly urgent command, lest I get shut out of the offerings (despite the fact that there are three hotels being made available in this moment, ten minutes is the difference between getting a room and being left in the cold). I click the link, get taken to the site, and I’m already shut out of the two-queen rooms after a try or two. The best I can get is a king suite – at least it has a tub, and not just a shower – with the possibility of an upgrade, but at least I’ve locked in something, and right across the street from the convention center. You would have been proud of me, if you’d have been here; we’ve been meaning to make it back to the Embassy for a number of years, after all.

And I owe a lot of that to Doc, and his insistence, not just on remembering what time to brace myself for the release, but how to go about making the necessary arrangements – and the fact that he was looking out for me on this whole matter.

***

The upshot is that getting what you need or want in life often has more to do with who knows you (and is willing to help you out in that regard) than just who you know. And I suppose I should add that it requires taking advantage of those connections – it’s not like people will hand you everything on a silver platter, either.

Interestingly enough, this goes all the way up to the top, now, doesn’t it? To say that God knows us would seem to be a no-brainer; not only is He all-knowing by definition, but He did have a hand in creating each and every one of us, and moving us about as He wills (although let’s not get into that argument about how much of our daily lives are specifically ordered by Him as opposed to being due to our free will choices – that’s a can of worms that’s beyond my ability to make definitive statements about, and I’ve little room or inclination for speculating at the moment). And He’s done a great deal to make sure that we get backstage with Him when He holds His Ultimate Reunion Tour; it’s just up to us to show up at the will-call counter and claim what’s waiting for us, if you’ll allow me to stretch the metaphor to its breaking point.

At the same time, I have to pause here, and marvel at the fact that the supposedly all-knowing God winds up forgetting something about each of us, in the final analysis. Forget the argument about whether He could create a rock so big He couldn’t lift it; this is an amazing thing to think about. Since He’s essentially allergic to sin, we can’t show up backstage as we are, with everything we’ve done in our lives. But when His Son shows up to let us in, all that is forgotten. It’s as if there was a list of reasons for each of us not to be allowed in, but with all this red ink –

“Um… excuse Me, that’s not ink… that’s My blood.”

– oh, right. Thanks to what Jesus did for us, everything that we did is obscured to the point that God doesn’t remember it, and so is more than welcome to greet us backstage, no matter how much that big red buff guy with the horns who thinks he’s a bouncer might complain about it.

Of course, that goes both ways. Those of us who don’t claim our backstage passes in time will wind up locked out of the concert (alongside that same red-faced ‘bouncer,’ most likely), yelling to be let in –

only to be told, by that same all-knowing God, “I never knew you.” Strange how that works. But, if you don’t rush to claim your ticket, just like trying to book a hotel room on the release date, you might find yourself shut out. And it doesn’t really matter how many guys you know, you’re out of luck.

Of course, the analogy, like most, breaks down eventually. There are other hotels, if you’re willing to walk. And you, in particular, were quite persistent in following up on cancellations, thereby getting us better accommodations than we had any right to expect. But that’s life in the capitalist world, where there are plenty of ‘guys’ willing to give you terms. On an eternal basis, we’re dealing with a single Seller, and while His terms are generous enough – and what He’s offering, He has an infinite supply of – they’re for a limited time only.

Good thing you got yours when you could. I’ll see you there at the Big Event; look for me, and I’ll try to look for you.

Until next time, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.