Exeter Essays In Geography

Exeter Essays In Geography-90
Small-business scammers came for a stop at the inn several times.Guests stained sheets, clogged toilets, locked themselves out of their rooms, and then demanded a discount.There exists between service workers and their customers an inherent imbalance of power: We meet sneers with apologies.

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The squeal of her vacuum reminds me why I have the opportunity to drive my squealing car to school.

I am where I am today because my mom put an enormous amount of labor into the formula of the American Dream.

It was there, as a son of immigrants, that I read about a young senator named Barack Obama, the child of an immigrant, aspiring to be the president of the United States.

The life that I saw through their home showed me that an immigrant could succeed in America, too.

At 9, I remember how I used to lounge on the couch and watch Disney cartoons on the sideways refrigerator of a TV implanted in a small cave in the wall.

At 12, I remember family photographs of the Spanish countryside hanging in every room. The carpet I vacuumed I only saw once a week, and the pastel shirts I folded I never wore. My mother was only the cleaning lady, and I helped.All the mirrors she’s cleaned could probably stack up to be a minor Philip Johnson skyscraper. The vacuums and the gloves might be, but the work isn’t. She spent countless hours kneeling in the dirt, growing her vegetables with the care that professors advise their protégés, with kindness and proactivity.Today, the fruits of her labor have been replaced with the suction of her vacuum.I took these remnants as a celebrity-endorsed path to prosperity.I began to check out books from the school library and started reading the news religiously. It was there I, as a glasses-wearing computer nerd, read about a mythical place called Silicon Valley in Bloomberg Businessweek magazines.At 14, I remember vacuuming each foot of carpet in the massive house and folding pastel shirts fresh out of the dryer. I loved the way the windows soaked the house with light, a sort of bleach against any gloom. My mother and father had come as refugees almost twenty years ago from the country of Moldova.I loved how I could always find a book or magazine on any flat surface. My mother worked numerous odd jobs, but once I was born she decided she needed to do something different.The fifth essay in our package appeared on The New York Times’s new Snapchat Discover, and you can view it at this link by pressing the arrow/play button.At age 6, I remember the light filled openness of the house, how the whir of my mother’s vacuum floated from room to room.When it comes to service workers, as a society we completely disregard the manners instilled in us as toddlers.For seventeen years, I have awoken to those workers, to clinking silverware rolled in cloth and porcelain plates removed from the oven in preparation for breakfast service.

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