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Photo by Paul Bergmeir on Unsplash
There was a moment in my life a few years ago when I realized I had pretty much met every type of person in the world. I think I can put most everyone into an archetype. I haven’t really articulated those out loud, but I can reasonably guess most people's their political leanings, salaries, professions, and lifestyles/beliefs. Sure, I’d be wrong sometimes, but at the moment I'm writing this, I’m sure I can generally figure out how to relate to this random group of people I’m looking at in the coffee shop. I’d talk about startups and business with the spoiled 30-ish male with baseball cap on backwards, I’d talk about the politics of healthcare with the late 50’s white male with shorts and novelty shirt that suggests “I’m retired,” and I’d talk traffic and old Austin with the middle aged lady with the early adult daughter that appears to be developmentally delayed. And so on.
But these kind of topics are so damn predictable that I would only discuss them if I had to, like we were stuck in an elevator for hours, or I needed to make a connection to them in a work or business environment like having to sell them on something. That makes me feel like a con man and reminds me of Victor Lustig. Here are his Ten Commandments:
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"The final jet-booster of this trend is the airlines' extraordinarily
successful frequent-flier programs, which have provided the burgeoning
hyperflier culture with its own currency, lexicon, and class structure. ...
The hyperfliers may think they're getting something for nothing, but they're
actually playing the airlines' game. By tightly restricting free flights,
airlines have rigged it so that a passenger flying for free almost never
displaces a paying customer, and typically costs the airline only about $20
per flight. But to earn that $20 flight, hyperfliers will go out of their
way to book all their tickets on one airline, and may waste hundreds or
thousands of dollars building their status."
--Warren Berger, "Life Sucks and Then You Fly," Wired, August, 1999
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