A few years ago, some friends and I were sitting around watching parts 1 and 2 of “The Godfather”, and one point my friend Jim said, “You know, if I’m really honest with myself, I have to admit that if I was any character in this movie, it’d be Fredo.” The rest of the men in the room took a few moments to consider this, and we all grudgingly admitted to feeling the same way about ourselves.
Unfortunately, I’ve come to believe that the majority of people in America today are much more like Fredo than we’d care to admit. I continually observe behavior that I characterize as “Nation of Fredo” moments. Here’s a perfect illustration from this weekend.
I was in my bank, getting a roll of quarters so I could do laundry. I overheard the man at the next teller window complaining about the new ATMs that had recently been installed. Apparently he found them inconvenient and difficult to operate
“I’m really thinking of switching to Washington Mutual because of this,” he said.
That right there is the essence of a “Nation of Fredo” moment. It’s born of a perfect storm of being forced to acknowledge one’s own weaknesses, and anger at that very weakness, combined with an inappropriate sense of righteous indignation and misdirected hostility.
Because, seriously, what was the teller supposed to do? Call up the Chief of Operations and tell them to come down and rip out the new ATMs and put back the old ones because this guy didn’t like them? And let’s be clear, if he were really going to switch to Washington Mutual, he’d have just done it without saying anything. But switching a bank account takes a lot more time and effort than figuring out an unfamiliar ATM.
Of course, what he really meant was “I want you to placate me, or I’ll go somewhere else and without my precious business this whole bank will shut down and you’ll be out of a job!” But if he’d said that, he’d have sounded like an even bigger jackass and he knew it.
Now, I was aware of all of this at the time. As a member of society, I really should have called this guy on his bullshit. But instead I took my quarters and left without incident. That was my “Nation of Fredo” moment.
I do believe that progress is possible, through awareness. To that end, I offer this short list of indicators. If we all engage in a few moments of self-analysis, perhaps we can reduce the number of “Nation of Fredo” moments that degrade us all as a people.
If you’ve ever told a clerk “I’m taking my business elsewhere,” you’re a Fredo.
If you’ve ever waited for the guy who cut you off on the freeway to take the off-ramp before you gave him the finger, you’re a Fredo.
If you’ve ever tried to seem like a big shot by under-tipping, you’re a Fredo.
If you’ve ever criticized someone for beginning a sentence with a conjunction and you’re not an English teacher, you’re a Fredo.
If you’ve ever challenged someone on the internet to meet you and fight, you’re a Fredo.
If, after sex, you’ve ever asked a girl whether she had an orgasm or not, you’re a Fredo.
If you’ve ever invaded a sovereign nation in a misguided attempt to impress your father, you’re a Fredo.
If you’re reading this right now and thinking “This just like a quiz I once took to see which one of the girls on ‘Sex and the City’ I am,” you’re a Fredo.
If you’re reading this right now and thinking “I’m not a Fredo! I’m totally a Sonny!” Guess what? You’re a Fredo.
If you’re reading this right now and thinking “Now he’s just ripping off Jeff Foxworthy,” you’re a Fredo for knowing Jeff Foxworthy’s routines and being snooty about it.
But all is not hopeless. After all, Fredo was the sweet one, the sensitive one, the kind one. When the time came for him to die, he didn’t cry or shout or try to fight it. He got in the boat and took it like a man. If he’d accepted his weaknesses and learned to deal with them, he might have been all right. And perhaps we as a nation can do the same.
