Normal Gets You Nowhere, Kelly Cutrone [self help books to read TXT] 📗

knew nothing about Kiko except that her family owned a lot of real estate in New York and she wore Junya Watanabe (you gotta love some Watanabe). But I took my mother’s advice and called her, since by then I already knew not to put anything important in an e-mail.

Kiko came to People’s Revolution, and we went to the back two rooms, which were my makeshift apartment. She was supercool, beautiful, and privileged. I told her, without mincing words, that she was definitely about to lose a lot of money.

“You know,” she said, nodding gravely, “everyone calls me the ‘Wild Tiger’ for a reason.” (Here she made a menacing gesture.) She agreed she should pull out of the deal immediately. I had no choice but to also resign, since I’d betrayed my client’s trust.

After that, Kiko and I became friends. One day when she stopped by my office, there was a considerable amount of noise upstairs; my neighbors were moving out.

“You have to have that apartment,” Kiko said.

Unfortunately, I happened to know it cost $6,000 a month. But before I could protest, she pulled out her checkbook and wrote me a check for $40,000. I told her I’d never be able to pay her back; nor would I be able to afford the place when her money ran out.

“You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out,” she said, unconcerned.

And she was right—I did. Eventually, I took over the second and fifth floors of the building as well.

I believe that all of the things you do for other people, you’re actually doing for yourself. Life is like a bank account. Random acts of kindness, telling the truth, being loving, showing up for yourself and others—these are all deposits. Getting fucked up, fucking other people over, letting your ego lead your choices—the things we think are fun after eleven at night but don’t seem so entertaining at eleven in the morning—are withdrawals. If we give more than we take, we progress. If we take more than we give, we regress.

This is why, since I opened People’s Revolution in 1996, I’ve always chosen to represent two or three clients for free. In doing so, I’m showing the universe that I’m grateful for what I’ve been given—I’m making deposits into my bank account. After all, if I believe my talents are God-given, I have a responsibility to give them back to God. I hope you agree with this, whether you’re a painter, a lawyer, a homemaker, or a maid. Whatever you do to contribute to this world, make money, and build a life for yourself, why not volunteer services to help others in your community too?

There’s a saying, “There but for the grace of God go I.” To me, this means that everything could flip, any day of the week. The thing that most repulses or scares us could be in our future, so we shouldn’t be so quick to judge and ignore. We never know what the universe is going to deal us. Though it seems totally impossible, you could be that person you’re walking by on the street or, more likely, the person who loses her job and needs a loan from a friend, a little compassion, or maybe a place to stay for a few weeks.

I’ve been the village girl from Syracuse, the penniless yogi with a shaved head out in L.A., and the black-haired fierce bitch taking over the runways, I dare say. It’s important that no matter what your position, you savor and make the best of it—that you take from each reality what it has to offer you (and they all have something, trust me). And that you show compassion. After all, I refuse to be killed by your narcissistic psychic footprint.

Chapter Six

I Fought the Law and the Law Won

There are three sides to every story: your side, my side, and the side of the truth.

—Ola Tungi, from the Peter Tosh documentary Stepping Razor: Red X

Did you know that in America you can actually make a career out of suing people? All you have to do is become the town crier, running around accusing people of things! Start by confronting someone and saying, “You stole $50,000 from me.” The person will say, “No, I didn’t.” Then you say, “Yes you did.” Then you call the police and file a report. “I did not steal from her. She’s crazy!” the other person will tell the police. But too bad for them! The police have to let you file the report, and after that the other person will have to convince a jury of your peers that she did not steal $50,000 from you.

I don’t know about your peers, but mine are fucking nuts. They’re also in a bad mood, because they’re probably losing money while they sit down at the courthouse on the jury hearing about your supposed $50,000. Do you think they give a shit? They’re more interested in their BlackBerrys. This is why being litigious is easy money. As you move up the ladder in your career—and especially if you decide to start your own business—

you’ll learn that you really need friends who are lawyers, because they speak a language called law.

For the record, the law has nothing to do with the truth.

Yet it is still the place we’ve decided to work out our grievances with each other. And to me, war is war, whether you’ve got a gun or a gavel in your hand. Still, it took me well over ten years of business to learn what I feel is one of the most important life lessons for you to hear and heed: Get. A. Lawyer.

As you might have guessed, I recently had a crash course in the law that shattered all remaining shards of my innocence with a hammer. This is why I now believe that when you go to work for someone, you should know what the labor laws are in your city before you