by Dwight Okita
From the Culture Beat blog of the Chicago Tribune
“Keeping Hope Alive & Kicking” by Madeline Worth
Last month, I mentioned a new venture in town called The Hope Store, a store that makes the bold claim they can install hope into the hopeless. Would it turn out to be the hottest thing since Apple turned its competitors into applesauce, or would it be a lemon? Their first month’s gross sales have been lackluster, thanks in large part to strategic protests staged by the Natural Hopers, as well as push-back from an array of talking heads, bloggers, and jealous scientists.
But don't give up hope on The Hope Store just yet. The store has been steadily building a client base of repeat customers and Yelp reviews have been overwhelmingly positive. Rumor has it Psychology Tomorrow is considering doing a write-up on the store. If that comes to pass, watch for a major sales bump at The Hope Store! Come to think of it, a hope installation would make an amazing holiday gift for the friend who has almost everything.
This has got to be one of the most thrilling bad reviews I've ever read. I'll have to see if anyone can confirm the PT rumor. If it's a false rumor, that'll be a shame. But if it's true, this could be the big break we've been hoping for.
I'm dying to stroll over to Kazu's office and see what he might know. That's when I discover that Kazu knows all about the magazine coverage. Apparently, they wanted to talk to the science guy rather than the marketing guy. Kazu wanted to keep it under wraps so that it would be a surprise when the issue came out. The magazine is especially interested in profiling Jada. We agree that Kazu can talk to her about it when they have their reunion dinner.
In my sessions with Jada, it's impossible not to notice her hope levels rising like waves in an ocean. The world that spins beneath her feet is the same world but her view of it is completely different. She finds herself talking Otis' ear off late at night in bed. All the things she wants to be when she grows up: a toy designer, a talk show host, a neurosurgeon, a cop. She finds herself wanting things she's never wanted before. "Maybe we could start a family, Otis." "Maybe we could take that trip to India we used to talk about." And suddenly maybe starts to sound like might be.
Here is one way to understand Jada's transformation. It's as if all her life, she has pictured herself standing in a torrential rainstorm under a broken-down umbrella. But what if that storm was imagined, a hallucination? What if in fact it has been bright and sunny all along? Having an enhanced level of hope allows her to see that, allows her to throw that broken-down umbrella into the trash where it belongs. If there are Natural Hopers in the world, Jada would surely be part of that other breed: the Enhanced Hopers.
JADA
24. HOPERS IN TRANSITION
We are in the back room at Two-Hearted Queen, a charming café owned by a lesbian couple. The staff has allowed us to push two long rectangular tables together to form a huge square one. Around the table, I see faces -- some of them familiar from The Hope Store, most of them not.
This is the first assembly of a Meetup group called "Enhanced Hopers." Even though it's new, the Meetup home page shows that 1,546 people have already joined. The group organizer Terrance has done some impressive polling of the membership and explained in his welcoming email that of the 1,546 members, 178 have actually had hope installations. And who are the other 1,368? They are the hope-curious, the fence-sitters. In short, they are the lurkers.
"Thanks to everyone for coming here to the first meeting of Enhanced Hopers. My name is Terrance and I'm the organizer," says the smartly dressed black man. He wears sky-blue suspenders over a chocolate brown dress shirt. "Though there are about 25 of us here today, there was quite a waiting list. To be honest, the membership is growing so fast -- this may also be our last meeting."
Everyone looks surprised, some laugh nervously.
I half-raise my hand. "Hi, my name is Jada. I'm just curious why it would be our last meeting if the group is growing so fast."
"Excellent question," he says. "The reason is purely a logistical one. It was hard finding a space that could accommodate a group this size. We might do better to gather together online in the future via chat room, bulletin board or Skype."
I nod and sip my latte.
"Why don't we go around and have everyone say their name. Then tell us if you've had a hope installation and where you are on a scale from 1 to 5, with 5 indicating a great response."
A tall, handsome Latino man clears his throat. "I'll start. My name is Madrid and if you asked me last week, I'd have said I was a 4, maybe a 4.2, but today I'm a solid 5. This week has been amazing. I'm starting my dream job on Thursday!"
"Thanks for sharing the good news, Madrid." Terrance looks to the next woman around the table.
"My name is Lucinda and I guess I'm one of the lurkers," she says shyly. "I'm saving up for an installation. But even with the discount, the price is $750 and…well, let's just say I don't have that kind of money sitting around in a cookie jar at home."
The group laughs.
A woman with retro eyeglasses and an equally retro paisley dress is next. "The past few weeks have been amazing. Definitely a 5. Final answer. My kids even notice the difference. I'm not moping around the house like I usually do. I'm starting new projects, and finishing them too. I'm multi-tasking like a madwoman."
A middle-aged man waves to the group. "Hi, everyone. My name is Luther. To be honest I'd have to give myself a 3, but then I'm pretty new. I'm glad you all started this support group. I kinda feel like I've found my tribe."
And so it goes.
Everyone has a story to tell, many of them are transformative. That is, until Mimi
"Wow, I guess I'm in the minority here. I'm Mimi and I have to say I'm a zero today. I'm so disappointed with The Hope Store I could spit. They say I'm a Low Responder but I'd say I'm a No Responder. I'm dying to know why you guys are so jazzed and why my hope tank is so damn empty. I really want to know."
The organizer nods. "Thanks, Mimi. Maybe we can talk about that later."
"I mean, I'm just being honest," she says. "You don't want me to lie, do you? Can I help it if I haven't drunk the Kool-Aid like some folks around this table."
Terrance tries to remain composed. "I don't think anyone's drunk any Kool-Aid, Mimi. I think people just have different experiences and we need to honor those experiences. Don't you agree?"
"I just know what I know. Maybe it wasn't such a hot idea me coming to this group."
"Why's that?" asks Madrid.
"Because I told Kazu and Luke that I demand a full refund and if I don't get one -- I just might sue them." A silence falls over the conversation.
I look at Terrance. He tries to remain unruffled. "Why don't we finish with the introductions. Then we'll see what the group wants to talk about. How's that?" he asks, but I know he's not asking anyone. He's telling them.
JADA
25. YOU ARE HERE
Kazu and I are finally having our long-awaited catch-up dinner at Leona's. I won't pretend that I have done wonderful things in the past ten years since I took that class with him. I'm tired of pretending. The hope installation is not just giving more hope. I feel an increase in my courage too. How are hope and courage related? Which leads to the other?
I find myself in a bit of a pickle. Having laid the trap to help expose the store as a scam – I am in the unlikely position of being cured. My hope levels have increased in ways big and small. And the fMRI at the end of a month’s time will confirm what my simple experiences cannot: that the change is not just in my imagination but in my body as well.
Blair Matters accuses me of having drunk the Kool-Aid. But how else could I become a true guinea pig? It’s not my fault the Kool-Aid was so tasty. He is furious at me for wasting his time and I can understand that. I did tell him I’d still give him an exclusive: he could write up my adventures at The Hope Store. The only thing is, it would just have a very different ending. His passion is consumer advocacy. He said it was becoming abundantly clear that there w
as no longer a project we could collaborate upon.
Kazu strolls into Leona’s and I wave him over to our booth. Again, we hug since we are old friends. Never mind that I had a crush on the guy ten years ago and that he has gotten more dashing with age. He’s got a partner after all.
“Finally,” he says, and we both know what that means. It’s taken a while for us to have our catch-up-on-old-times dinner.
"Well, it's been a crazy time for you with the store opening,” I say.
“And, Jada, I know Luke has probably said something but I want to personally say how much it meant to me that first day when the Natural Hopers made such a ruckus –"
“Kazu,” I start, not wanting to be eulogized again. "It was nothing. Believe me.”
“—they succeeded in scaring our customers away that day. But you stayed!”
“Kazu, listen to me. All those noble reasons you and Luke keep attributing to me – those aren’t the reasons I stayed.” I have his attention at last.
“Really. Then why? Why did you stay?”
I take a deep sip of my Diet Dr. Pepper, wishing I was drinking something so much harder, much more distilled or fermented. “Please don’t be hurt by what I’m about to say, Kazu.”
“Hurt? I don’t think you could hurt me if you wanted to.”
I look at my old friend and choose my words carefully. “The reason I came to The Hope Store was…I wanted to prove that the hope installation wouldn’t work.”
Kazu smiles. He takes a moment to digest my statement. “Jada, it’s the most natural thing in the world to be skeptical.”
“You see, being hope-deprived my whole life, I’ve been disappointed by so many quacks offering magic cures for my suffering. When I first heard about the store, it made me angry. I wanted to show people, to warn them not to be made fools of. I didn’t know at the time you were involved.”
“Jada.” I see his face get more serious as it dawns on him what I’m saying.
I continue to make my full confession. “I talked to a journalist about writing about my trials and tribulations at The Hope Store. He was very interested. I was so sure…that the store was just selling more snake oil, more hope in a jar. I didn't expect…"
“What? What didn’t you expect?” Kazu asks.
“…I didn’t expect the hope installation to work! I didn’t see that coming.”
There is a long pause. It’s not my place to fill it. The waiter comes and Kazu and I place our dinner orders. We sip our drinks. I wonder if he will ever speak to me again, if this dinner will take place from hereon in utter silence.
“So…this journalist…” he starts.
“Oh, as soon as I started to have a great response to the installation, he bailed. That story is not going to happen.”
“I see,” he says. “That story could have hurt us.”
"I didn't want to hurt anyone. I just wanted to protect people like me." I eat a stale breadstick.
“You said at the time, you didn’t know I was involved?”
“That’s right.”
“And once you knew I was involved, that my life partner was involved…you still pursued the exposé?”
I know where Kazu is going with this so I must choose my words carefully. “It was a very hard decision to make,” I say. “I don’t know if you can understand. Maybe if I tell you how I spent the last, lost decade of my life… It wasn’t personal, Kazu. “
“When you try to tear down someone’s dream…that’s personal, Jada. Goddammit[G5]. I don't know who you are anymore, Jada. Or who you ever were. I can't even sit with you right now."
" I've never seen him so angry, so hurt. What have I done? He gets up and paces restlessly. Then he makes a beeline to the men's room.
"I fucked up," I say to an empty table. "I'm a bad person," I mention to my glass of iced tea. Its lemon wedge winks at me. "I don't feel well at all," I confess to anyone in the restaurant who will listen.
I look up and there is the waiter standing before me with an offering in his hand. "Calamari?" he says and I don't think I've ever been less hungry in my life. This is how friendships break apart. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kazu making his way back to our table. I study his body language, his expression. Neutral.
"I'm so sorry. I totally fucked up. How can I make this right again, Kazu?"
He looks deep into my eyes and I'm afraid what he can see. "I was standing in the men's room taking a leak. I was really mad at you, but I knew this was my karma. I couldn't blame you though I wanted to. This was my chance to learn something or to learn nothing."
"Did you learn something?"
"Not yet. Just that I'm hungry," he says.
“You guys really have something amazing that the world needs,” I say. “I did consider not telling you...about my original agenda. But I see you and Luke as more than just…store owners. I see you as friends. But of course…I don’t know, uh, well, you know…”
“What?” he asks.
“I don’t know how you see me. How you see me now.”
Kazu looks at me.
Then he stands up. I’m terrified he’s walking out in the middle of dinner. “Let's try this again.” Kazu stands up, turns around, and looks surprised. "Jada, so good to see you!"
"You too, Kazu," I reply.
“I just wanted you to know, Jada, and I really hope this doesn’t hurt your feelings but…I just wanted to tell you a personal secret. About me. You see, I don’t hug my customers. I only hug my friends.”
And in this moment, Kazu seems further away from me than he’s ever been before. He looks at me with a blank face which tells me nothing. Then Kazu embraces me, and I feel like I can breathe again.
“Shall we eat? I’m starving,” he says.
Sometimes a moment comes up that you have to smooth over with your hand. Kazu has done that. Somehow he has made all the calculations in his head at lightning speed. He has determined that our friendship is bigger than this, this…stumble. He is a better person than I will ever be, and for that, I am grateful grateful grateful.
“I wanted to have dinner with you to catch up, but there’s another reason,” Kazu says.
“Really? By all means catch me up,” I say.
“I have the printout of your latest fMRI. This shows your brain activity and engagement a month after your installation. I didn’t want to show it to you till I could confirm its validity.”
“Ok, now I’m dying to see it.”
He puts two color printouts side by side. The first one is a darkened walnut of a brain with just a trickle of light on one side. But the new one looks like the Fourth of July.
“When you first came to the store, your dopamine level was at 12%. Now? It’s at 72%”
I’m speechless. A few tears roll down my face. “Oh my god. Is that all me?
“That is all you, Jada. You are not just a Good Responder. We call people like you…a Super Responder.”
I let out a laugh.
“Oh and something else,” he says. “There has been some media interest in you.”
“In me?”
Of all our clients in our first month of operation, many have had terrific results. But yours has been extraordinary. Psychology Tomorrow is interested in doing a profile of you. Actually, it would be the cover story for their next issue. People can use an extra dose of hope during the holidays.”
I feel like I’m dreaming. Things like this do not happen to Jada Upshaw.
“They should interview you and Luke. You’re the ones who discovered everything.”
“They’ll talk to us too. So are you interested, Jada? It could mean a lot for The Hope Store.”
“But I’m kind of a private person. At least, I’ve always been a private person before. I don’t know what I am now."
“Just say the word, and I’ll have them give you a call to set things up. They’re very excited to talk to you!”
“Can I think about it? Maybe talk to Otis about it?”
“Sure. B
ut they’d need an answer tomorrow because –”
I try to picture what this would look like: being interviewed by a national magazine, seeing my face on the cover of Psychology Tomorrow at Barnes & Noble. Will I be a stuttering fool, or will I knock it out of the park? “Well then...yes. My answer is yes. Final answer.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured.”
“They say opportunity knocks only once. Isn’t that what they say, Kazu?” I take a long, deep sip of my Diet Dr. Pepper.
LUKE
26. DOGHOUSE
When we get home, Kazu and I snack on hummus and pita bread as we watch the news. It took courage for Jada to share her big secret with me. It makes me wonder if I should tell Kazu about the secrets I have been keeping from him.
A segment comes on about the Natural Hopers, once again railing about the dangers of our store. Natural Hoper-in-chief Robert Chang preaches on. “I’m sure The Hope Store creators are decent enough folks. But what they're selling is not only dangerous, it’s addictive. Once you get treated, they insist you return for an annual booster installation. At $1,000 a pop, The Hope Store is a gold mine.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Chang, do you have any proof that the installations are dangerous?” says Andrew Konstant.
“Do you have any proof they’re not? Three years is hardly enough study time for a procedure as potentially significant and clearly invasive as this one.”
I flick the remote, turning down the sound. It makes me too angry to listen to him rant. Maybe a town hall meeting wouldn't be such a bad idea. A chance for us to meet our detractors face to face.
“I guess it’s pretty obvious who messed with our sign at the press opening,” says Kazu.
“Who?” I say.
“Robert Chang would be a good guess. Who else could it be?”