Prosperous Integrity, Part III

Fiscal fortitude It may be experimental, but my new role of bathrobe entrepreneur carries certain risks and responsibilities. Being the fastidious sort, I'm used to dotting and crossing the letters of the alphabet that require it, and generally keeping a lid on the pots most likely to boil over at inopportune moments. I don't like messes because I hate to clean.

Vulgar metaphors aside, one aspect of bathrobe entrepreneurship remains particularly loathsome to me. I despise self-promotion in any form, and even the benign and altogether common act of putting up an advertisement seems oddly inappropriate. Perhaps it's the impression of neediness it creates. It tells the world that I, too, have the need for t-shirts and toilet paper. It suggests I need food.

Eventually, the despicable act of self-promotion arrives at the subject of pricing the goods or services in question. Even when the product is of the highest quality, its seller possessed of the utmost integrity, and nothing is standing in the way of timely delivery, there's a shred of regret at not having the fiscal fortitude to simply give it away.

Clearly, this is not the stuff of unbridled capitalism; it isn't the sort of thinking that builds empires, or bridges, or even smallish items like toothbrushes. It's the sort of thinking that subverts commerce, and so has no place in my experiment.

We will throw it out, and continue on.


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