I have a PhD in Physics from Berkeley. Still, in the strictest real estate sense, my best and highest use is as a dishwasher.
I was managing a small optics factory in Livermore. We made laser mirrors to order there — any wavelength, any reflectivity, any angle, any polarization, you name it. I was working my ass off and was unmarried at the time. Thanksgiving came around and I had nowhere to go. But I hooked up with a church in San Jose that had a dinner for poor people and went as a volunteer. After serving the dinner, I wandered back into the dish room. I immediately went over to the sink and kicked out the lady who was pretending to work. I then washed all the dishes and left.
Comes one year later. I’m in the exact same situation. I call up that church. The lady says, “Oh, that’s very nice of you. But we don’t need any more volunteers, we have enough.” Oh shit. What to do. I found my old replica army parka I had bought in a Cambridge surplus store 20 years earlier. I went as a poor person. I didn’t want to be alone.
The first thing I found out is that poor people are herded, controlled, treated like children. We had to wait outside the church in the mild cold until permitted to enter, in a kind of line. So I sit down. I will never forget the beatific smiles of the volunteers that served us. This was performance art, and they were the stars. Everyone on the supplicant end noticed this, I’m sure. So the meal ends. I walk back into the dish room, survey the situation, once again kick out whoever was pretending to do the dishes, do the dishes, and leave.