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The high price of recognition
Your 15 minutes of fame are up;
please deposit another $250
LEONARD BOASBERG
Some time ago I received “an exclusive invitation” from John Fox Sullivan, president and group publisher of the Atlantic Monthly, to become one of a select few to receive a free copy of the excellent magazine’s next issue.
I was honored— but why me? Because, Mr. Sullivan explained, “you’re the type of person The Atlantic is written and designed for…. someone who appreciates good writing. And good reading. Someone who enjoys learning new things and understanding the issues of the day with greater clarity and insight. Someone who loves books, poetry, word puzzles, and the intricacies of the language.” Also, presumably, someone who appreciates dangling participles and sentences that lack predicates.
I’d never met Mr. Sullivan, so I wondered how he knew me so well. I suspect he got my name from an organization that I had never heard of until I heard from it: the International Biographic Centre, located in Cambridge, England.
‘Inclusion is based on merit alone’
Jon Gifford, editor in chief, sent me a letter inviting me to take my place in the forthcoming volume entitled 2000 Outstanding Intellectuals of the 21st Century.
“Inclusion is based on merit alone,” Mr. Gifford stressed, emphasizing that only 2000 intellectuals could be featured from across the world.
I was overwhelmed. I imagined myself in a book to be made available to librarians, research institutes and academics, with copies housed in the leading libraries of the world, including the Library of Congress and the British Library in London.
Mr. Gifford noted that there was no obligation to purchase a copy. But if I should want one, copies would cost $285 for the case-bound Grand Edition or the “printed in three colours” edition inscribed with my name and citation. For the same price, I could also obtain the Outstanding Intellectuals of the 21st Century Medal, silver-finished, engraved with my name and supplied in a presentation case. There were also combination offers for $499 and $740.
My secret life as a businesswoman
How did the International Biographic Centre learn of an intellectual merit that had previously gone unrecognized, except by my mother? But then, where did the National Association of Female Executives get my name?
I received a letter from this Manhattan-based organization, congratulating me for having been nominated and approved for membership. The letter said that “for 25 years, this nationwide network of American businesswomen has been dedicated to helping women share the resources and techniques needed to get ahead in business and achieve financial independence. And because we believe you are as determined and as qualified to succeed as we are, we’d like you to join us.”
NAFE describes itself as “the largest, most prestigious professional women’s organization in America.” It offers a multitude of benefits, including reduced medical and other insurance premiums, discounts on computers, software and other stuff, savings on hotels, car rentals, etc., inside leads on jobs, as well as “hard-hitting advice on crucial issues such as coaxing a raise out of a tight-fisted boss” and networking with “women like us.”
Annual dues were listed at only $29. The National Association of Female Executives isn’t as exclusive as the International Biographic Centre— it claims 125,000 members— but with all those benefits I seriously thought of joining, even though I’m not a businesswoman, or even a businessman. (I’m a retired journalist.)
I was especially intrigued by those opportunities for networking with women, but my wife said I’m too old for that sort of thing.
please deposit another $250
LEONARD BOASBERG
Some time ago I received “an exclusive invitation” from John Fox Sullivan, president and group publisher of the Atlantic Monthly, to become one of a select few to receive a free copy of the excellent magazine’s next issue.
I was honored— but why me? Because, Mr. Sullivan explained, “you’re the type of person The Atlantic is written and designed for…. someone who appreciates good writing. And good reading. Someone who enjoys learning new things and understanding the issues of the day with greater clarity and insight. Someone who loves books, poetry, word puzzles, and the intricacies of the language.” Also, presumably, someone who appreciates dangling participles and sentences that lack predicates.
I’d never met Mr. Sullivan, so I wondered how he knew me so well. I suspect he got my name from an organization that I had never heard of until I heard from it: the International Biographic Centre, located in Cambridge, England.
‘Inclusion is based on merit alone’
Jon Gifford, editor in chief, sent me a letter inviting me to take my place in the forthcoming volume entitled 2000 Outstanding Intellectuals of the 21st Century.
“Inclusion is based on merit alone,” Mr. Gifford stressed, emphasizing that only 2000 intellectuals could be featured from across the world.
I was overwhelmed. I imagined myself in a book to be made available to librarians, research institutes and academics, with copies housed in the leading libraries of the world, including the Library of Congress and the British Library in London.
Mr. Gifford noted that there was no obligation to purchase a copy. But if I should want one, copies would cost $285 for the case-bound Grand Edition or the “printed in three colours” edition inscribed with my name and citation. For the same price, I could also obtain the Outstanding Intellectuals of the 21st Century Medal, silver-finished, engraved with my name and supplied in a presentation case. There were also combination offers for $499 and $740.
My secret life as a businesswoman
How did the International Biographic Centre learn of an intellectual merit that had previously gone unrecognized, except by my mother? But then, where did the National Association of Female Executives get my name?
I received a letter from this Manhattan-based organization, congratulating me for having been nominated and approved for membership. The letter said that “for 25 years, this nationwide network of American businesswomen has been dedicated to helping women share the resources and techniques needed to get ahead in business and achieve financial independence. And because we believe you are as determined and as qualified to succeed as we are, we’d like you to join us.”
NAFE describes itself as “the largest, most prestigious professional women’s organization in America.” It offers a multitude of benefits, including reduced medical and other insurance premiums, discounts on computers, software and other stuff, savings on hotels, car rentals, etc., inside leads on jobs, as well as “hard-hitting advice on crucial issues such as coaxing a raise out of a tight-fisted boss” and networking with “women like us.”
Annual dues were listed at only $29. The National Association of Female Executives isn’t as exclusive as the International Biographic Centre— it claims 125,000 members— but with all those benefits I seriously thought of joining, even though I’m not a businesswoman, or even a businessman. (I’m a retired journalist.)
I was especially intrigued by those opportunities for networking with women, but my wife said I’m too old for that sort of thing.
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