More Speechifying, Courtesy of Harvard Law School and Berkeley SS
My debate alumni e-mail list was recently treated to one of the speeches given at this year’s Harvard Law School graduation. The speaker was my former debate partner, Tejinder Singh. It’s easier to comprehend the content if you have seen a picture of us debating together (and guess which debater is named Tejinder):
Under normal circumstances, I would feel obligated to ask Tejinder’s permission before posting this for all and sundry to see, but these are not normal times. In what I can only describe as a feat of stunningly uncharacterstic modesty, he neglected to mention giving this speech when we spoke two weeks ago. In retaliation, I am posting it without forewarning him.
“On this solemn day, I want to talk … about tipping in restaurants. I could write a law-review-length article about the subtleties … whether the wine counts toward the baseline, whether you calculate tip based on the bill before or after tax, whether you adjust the tip with the Federal reserve rate … you get the idea. But at the end of the day, I find that how much one tips is largely considered a personal matter. Personal in the sense that everybody does what they want, but also in the sense that how much you tip maybe says something about the kind of person you are. Me? I tip somewhere north of twenty percent, and sometimes as high as a third, and I understand that this is higher than the norm. But I have a reason, and I would like to share it with you today.
I have “overtipped” ever since I was young, when a friend reminded me that because I wear a turban, which is a symbol of belonging to the Sikh faith, people tend to see me not just as me, but as a representative for all people of my religion. He told me that when I tip big, I make life that much easier for the next person who looks like me and walks into that restaurant. And he told me the rest of the story too: when I do a good job, my people look competent; when I lose my temper, we look like hotheads; when I smile, we look agreeable, and so on. And when any man in a turban does any of those things, that conduct is imputed onto me, at least a little bit.
I protested. If I recall correctly, I stood up! “That’s not fair!” I exclaimed. A little dramatic for the Olive Garden? Maybe. But then I gave a brilliant speech about how this is America, where people are not judged based on how they look. I went on and on about our venerable freedoms and about our just society, and if you listened really hard, you could hear the faint, but distinct tones of the national anthem as I built up to the climax of it all—that we must be free to tip as little as we please. My friend sighed, shrugged, and left twenty percent for our server. As I reflect now, lurking behind my high-minded and patriotic rhetoric was quite a healthy dose of selfishness. I resented the idea that I owed a duty to anybody, and I wanted to be free to behave in whatever foolish way felt good at the moment.
But as sure as I stand here today, my friend was right. I’ve seen it play out enough times to know for a fact that I am not alone, and I never will be. And over time, I have come to understand that I shouldn’t think about my ties to my religion as a burden, but instead as a form of power. By living the good life, I get to serve my community. And every day, I am the beneficiary of all of the hard work and good decisions that my people make. That’s a pretty good deal. So I tip big, and I try to be fair, and I try to be smart, and I don’t always pull it off, but I have a lot of motivation to be my best at every moment.
Some of you may have had an experience similar to mine. To the rest of you: Welcome to the club! Today, as we leave this place for the various corners of the world, we find ourselves bound to one another by our new common possession: a degree from Harvard Law School. From now on, people will think of us not just as individuals, but as members of a class, as heirs to the tradition of those who took this stage before us, and as examples for those yet to come. And we should embrace it, because we are all lucky to find ourselves in such magnificent company.
We now have everything we need to make the world a better place. We have always had the talent, charm, and good looks. Today we add a degree from one of the greatest educational institutions on the planet—the type of qualification that people notice and take seriously. In this crowd I see brilliant attorneys, executives, public servants, teachers, artists, brick-toting admissions deans, you name it, all ready to come into their own. And as we realize our potential, our successes will have the collateral effect of lifting up our peers and augmenting this school’s great tradition of success.
And all of that is great. But we have another opportunity in front of us—one that, in my view, means even more. People will be watching us, and so we have a chance to show them our hearts. Wherever we find our bliss, and whatever side of our various cases or controversies we ultimately adopt, we can conduct ourselves with grace, courage, integrity, and compassion. We can play the game in a way that leaves the world astounded by the quality of our character. This will probably be harder than it sounds, because it is easy to be selfish, easy to take shortcuts, and easy to forget how fortunate we are. But we can help each other. When life gets tricky, we can remember that we are not alone, and we have 765 classmates who are rooting for us to make the right decision. For me, there is comfort and inspiration in that. And as I think about the challenges ahead, I’m not too worried about how this crowd will do. I feel nothing short of blessed to find myself in your hands. And I promise to do my very best not to let you down.
Congratulations everybody. And as you celebrate your successes and your friendships tonight, remember to tip big.”
