This morning as I was driving to work, I passed a Haagen Dazs delivery truck and immediately started thinking of the best way to knock it over, like it were a Brinks truck. Can I do it on my own, or will I need a partner in crime? (Ice crime! HAHahahaaaah… shut up). Should I wait until the driver goes in to make a delivery, or just jump in the truck at a red light, haul the driver out, and drive off? Should I politely ask the driver if he would like a cut of the deal (that’s the Canadian way, I guess), and enlist his help? What capacity do I have to store an entire truck full of ice cream bars? Do I even need to store it, or do I just need to find a parking lot and call my friends up?

Oddly, this all reminded me of a question a co-worker asked me yesterday: “What class are you?” Obviously plotting ways to steal an ice cream truck secures my exclusion from the Upper Class, but it’s an interesting question. What class am I? The choices were High, Middle, and Low… but, I would think that I’m all of them, and yet none of them at the same time.

Are we speaking financially? Then I’d say I’m embedded pretty solidly in the Middle class. If we’re speaking of lifestyle, then perhaps I’m both Low and High class – I like to drink a lot of beer, but I drink that thar’ expensive-like beer! I may wear Manolo Blahnik shoes every so often, but in all honesty, I bought them on Ebay, man.  

I don’t think I even know how to define those classes. In my mind, there are no definitive borders when it comes to class, and I can’t say I’ve ever really thought of myself in terms of “class”. It feels dirty somehow, an awkward and uncomfortable way to think of oneself, as though you’re admitting to being better than one group of people, and yet not as good as another group of people. Worse, you’re allowing yourself to think that there are people who aren’t as good as you. To me, that’s just a dangerous way to think. That’s some ‘Rich Kids of Instagram’ reasoning right there, and no one wants to be lumped in with those douche canoes.

What class am I? I have no idea. It’s just not the way I think about myself, I guess. And even if it were, I really can’t say it’s a set idea – my “class” has varied throughout my life, as I’m sure everyone’s has. As a society we tend to place importance on income; the higher the better! However, I think the only thing that really matters is how you treat other people, and how others treat you in return. In that sense, some of the wealthiest people are the lowest class cock-knobblers out there, and some of the poorest people are the kind of people that the world needs more of.

I guess I’m the class of person that contemplates stealing an ice cream truck, but I’m also the class of person who would call my friends up afterward to share in the spoils. I’m the class of person who would consider tossing a truck driver onto the road at a red light, but I’m also the class of person who would totally apologize to the driver, and would check to make sure he wasn’t hurt before I drove off. Because if he was hurt, that ice cream would taste like guilt, and guilt tastes terrible.

Anyway, I truly don’t know what class I belong in. But I’ll tell you one thing, it’s fine by me if I’m completely classless.

Happy Thursday all!