2011 June | Kelsey Timmerman

Death by Google Maps

By Kelsey

(You can get the graphic above - Map Marker of Death - on a T-shirt here)

It took a little while to realize I might get shot. If I was, I vowed to write a message in blood to my wife revealing the identity of my killer. With a blood stained finger, I’d scrawl: Google Maps.

I was in Beverly Hills at a speaking engagement and needed to get back to my hotel near LAX. I had tried to rent a car with no success, so I was traveling by bus. I was using Google Maps on my iPhone to navigate L.A.’s bus system.

I followed the directions exactly without a second thought, as one is apt to do with technology. Unlike a local friend, a kind passerby, or a gas station attendant, Google Maps doesn’t mention info that is just as critical as getting from A to B as right turns and wrong turns, such as pot-holed-filled streets or the presence of gang violence.

To get from Beverly Hills to LAX I had to change buses twice. The first bus stop was nearly my last.

I grabbed my laptop bag with my shiny new Mac inside and headed for the bus door. The bus lady gave me a look in her mirror as I exited.

“Maybe she’s just admiring my new blue sweater,” I thought. “Or maybe she’s giving me props for doing such a fabulous job of navigating L.A.’s public transit system.”

The bus pulled away and left me alone on Crenshaw Boulevard.

What you need to know – and what I was so blissfully unaware of – about Crenshaw is that it’s the neighborhood that the movie Boyz ‘n the Hood was based on. The “hood” has been mentioned in songs by Easy-E, Nas, Wu-Tang Clan, and Dr. Dre. It is an area very, very unlike any that I could stumble upon in my hometown of Muncie, Indiana.

Dr. Dre on Crenshaw in “Stranded in Death Row”:

What don’t you bring you’re ass on over to Crenshaw and Slauson
Take a walk through the hood, and we up to no good
Slangin’ on things like a real ho
G should, I’m stackin’ and mackin’ and packin’ a ten so
When you’re slippin’, I slip the clip in
But ain’t no steady tripppin
Cause it’s Death Row, rollin like the mafia

The Damu Ridas on Crenshaw from their album “How Deep is Your Hood?”:

On Crenshaw and Century the Mafia has made history, and even know punk [n-word] wanna do shit.

“Oh. My God. I’m going to die.”

The seriousness of my location set in when I saw the bars over the windows on the nearby McDonald’s. In case you are thinking that a fast food restaurant is some oasis of peace when it comes to gang violence, and I had nothing to worry about: three days ago a man was shot and killed in the drive-thru of a Taco Bell on Crenshaw. The bullets got him before the tacos did.

According to Google Maps I was doing everything right. According to evolution I wasn’t. The look the bus driver gave me was actually like the one that the farmer gives the lamb when he takes him to market, “Well, it’s been nice knowing you.”

“Act like you belong here. Act like you belong here.”

I was wearing a pair of shoes that resemble Chuck Taylors. My jeans had a fashionable hole in the knee. I shouldered a Timbuk2 laptop bag the color of moist moss that sits next to mountain biking trails frequented by weekend warrior yuppies.

And my sweater…Lord help me…my sweater. It was blue!!! I was in Crips & Blood country wearing Crips’ colors. Or as they say, “trued up” in Crips’ colors.

I tried my best not to look like a gang-initiation prerequisite. Wide-eyes equal fear, so I squinted like Clint Eastwood. I acted like this was my normal commute. I whistled. I checked my watch even though I wasn’t wearing one.

On the inside I was panicked. I pondered escape routes and places to grab cover. I held my laptop bag in such a way that it could be used as a weapon.

All this to say: I looked like an idiot.

As cars pulled into McDonald’s, the passengers did double-takes, undoubtedly wagering if I’d come to my final resting place on the sidewalk, in the street, or in the McDonald’s landscaping behind me.

In 2010 a pedestrian sued Google after Google Maps directions on her Blackberry told her to cross a dark street in Park City, Utah. She crossed. There wasn’t a sidewalk. She got hit by a car and sued Google for $100,000.

Would my wife have a case?

Using GPS makes us dumber. Researchers at McGill University found that GPS users have a higher chance of damaging the part of the brain knows as the hippocampus. The hippocampus tells humans where they are and where they are going. Atrophy of the hippocampus can expose a person to a higher risk of cognitive diseases like Alzheimer’s.

Whether led by brain damage or blind faith, I shouldn’t have been standing on a street corner in Crenshaw.

I sat my mind to the task of finding words that rhyme with Hoosier: loser, boozer, snoozer, cruiser, doozer, newser, ruser, muser, woozer.

Standing on the corner like a Hoosier
Holding my laptop like a muser
About to go down like a loser

L.A. buses require exact change. My wallet had credit cards heaped with frequent flyer miles, a one-dollar bill and a ten-dollar bill, and an Indiana license announcing I was an organ donor, but it didn’t have exact change. I pondered running into the McDonald’s to break the ten, but what if I missed the bus?

The wait was supposed to be ten minutes, but twenty long minutes went by, each passing like a dog year and being subtracted like a cat’s life.

Finally, the bus rolled up and the driver threw open the door.

“Hello, mam,” I may as well have said howdy. “I don’t have exact change…” I paused allowing her to fill in the blank with, “I don’t have exact change, but I’m scared shitless and really need to be anywhere but on this street corner holding thousands of dollars of electronics ‘trued up’ in my Crip colors. Please, oh please, let me have a ride.”

“Honey, just get on,” she said.

My life, nearly brought to an end by Google Maps, was spared and I learned an important lesson: I need to pull my head out of my GPS.

Mad World

My first gay bar

By Kelsey

I love being married to my wife. And I’m happy for those in New York who will now be able to tie-the-knot. Although, I wouldn’t be surprised if the bill is overturned within the next 12 months by a state constitutional amendment. However, I’m confident that in my lifetime gay men and women across the country will have the right to marry just like the rest of us.

You might disagree with my view on this. Maybe you feel so strongly against gay marriage that you have one of those anti-gay marriage bumper stickers, or you don’t feel the need to examine the issue any further than, “It’s Adam and Eve! Not Adam and Steve!!” Maybe it’s a faith thing for you. That’s fine.

For me it’s not a faith thing; it’s a human rights thing. And more than that — a love thing. I have gay family members and gay friends. For those who haven’t found that someone they want to spend the rest of their lives with, like I have, I hope that they do. And for those who have, I see a love that is no more right or wrong than the love I share with my wife.

In honor of the state of New York legalizing gay marriage, Slate has a feature today titled The Gay Bar. Slate asked “eminent gay, lesbian, and bisexual writers to tell…about their first visit to a gay bar.”

I’m not eminently gay, lesbian, or bisexual. In fact, I’m eminently heterosexual, but I’ll never forget my first gay bar. I dusted off the ol’ Travelin’ Light (the column I wrote from 2002-2006) archives and pulled out the column below on some of my gay bar experiences.

Have you been to a gay bar? I’d love for you to share your story in the comments.

(Oh and this piece is Kelsey circa 2002, so forgive any clumsiness in the writing.)

Light-Hearted Bars

I’m Kelsey, a single white male, straight as a prize-winning stalk of corn at an Ohio county fair.

Melbourne, Australia- I’m in a bar sipping on a cold one and discussing the finer points of Australian beer with some travel companions. After a hard day of driving from Sydney to Melbourne, we’re winding down. The Prince of Wales Pub stands up to our rigorous requirements- it is the first bar we come to and the beer is cold. Everything seems so right, but then…

I begin to notice a skewed demographic of patrons- they’re mostly men. After a quick canvas the realization begins to set in- I’m in a gay bar. No problem, you have gay friends. There is nothing to worry about. Oh, shit. That’s when I saw them, a group of guys hawking in a half circle, looking in my direction. After some final words of encouragement and a few pats on the back, a small Asian man weaves his way through an imaginary set of cones set in place on the floor by a few too many drinks.

His eyes stare out beneath a pair of droopy eyelids and some snot occupies his upper lip. Stay calm.

“Hi.” Snot lip spoke first. What do I do? A man has never hit on me before.

“Hello.” I am anything but flattered. I would not be interested regardless of his appearance, but he could have at least wiped the snot off his lip. The room closes in upon me. The music is loud and the steady hum of conversation with its waves of laughter echoes off the walls.

Oh no he’s going to speak again. Do I let him down easy? Do I run? It looks like he is on some kind of drug. It undoubtedly fills his loins with unrelenting passion while giving him exceptional strength and speed. Escape is futile.

“You look naughty.”

Naughty! The word hits me in the gut like a sucker punch and on the forced exhale my voice raises an octave in disbelief, “I look naughty???”

“No!” He points to my head of blonde curls. “I said you look Nordic. Not naughty, but Nordic.” He slowly pronounced and emphasized each syllable, “NOR-DIC.”

A vice begins to crush my head and a knife slowly twists in my chest. I’m an idiot. “Oh,” I nervously laugh, “I’m neither.”

Key West, Florida- I work as a SCUBA instructor on the island and I have been told that the drag show is a “can’t miss.” “Yeah, you should definitely take your mom and cousin there.”

At the back of the room my mom, my cousin Brice, a few of his friends, and I look through the bar and up to the small stage.

I am the first to admit that some drag queens are beautiful- not that I go for that kind of thing, I am just an honest guy- but the one performing has a bit of what Brice refers to as a “Dogface.” She struts out on the stage a petite 6’5” muscle cut diva, and provocatively dances to a Cher song.

Beside me Mom is smiling and moving to the music, having a good time. I’m glad I brought her here, a little something that you can’t experience in rural Ohio. The song ends and Dogface steps off the stage with a collection bucket.

Earlier that night I had embarrassed Brice’s friend, Mary, when I asked a Cuban man, who she had been eyeing all night, to salsa with her. She danced and returned with a large grin that fell to a scowl when she reached me, “I owe you. You better watch your back.”

These are the words that haunt me as Mary slips a twenty into Dogface’s bucket, whispers in her ear, and points at me. The room is wall-to-wall people. I am wedged between mom and Brice with nowhere to go.

Soon a bucket is shoved into my face. I look up, a tall drink of water if I ever saw one, into a toothy grin bordered with bright red lipstick. This is bad, very bad. The large red lips begin to move. She’s talking to me. I can’t hear, especially in pressure situations- either my mind flies away instead of fighting to comprehend or something in my ears shut down. I should get it checked out.

I later discovered the question was a simple one, “Are you gay?” A wrong response would have surely led to a life scarring experience and a lifetime of embarrassment.

She’s waiting for a response. Think…think. Play it safe. “I’m Kelsey.”

Dogface cocks her head to the side in question before finally shrugging her shoulders and slowly leaning towards me. There are times in life where a guy requires his mother for protection and/or guidance. This is one of those times and lucky for me, mom is standing right beside me.

Time slows. I turn in mom’s direction in desperation, seeking maternal shelter. The drag queen’s face nears. I hold my breath. Mom’s head deliberately drifts back and out billows long, slow, deep laughs from the gut, “HA…HA…HA…,” the laugh of the devil.

The lips impact my cheek as I back against the wall crawling in my skin. Nowhere to run. The devil laughs beside me. My back is against the wall. Before me in six-inch stilettos is a man the size of a professional wrestler. It’s just a kiss on the cheek…take it like a man. That’s when the suction begins.

My eyes go blank and I stare at my kin laughing hysterically. An animal being eaten alive, my mind drifts from my body, separating itself from the pain and horror.

I gaze down at Kelsey, a dog-faced drag queen stuck to his face, and weep.

Mad World

The Rubber Glove

By Kelsey

“We have a lack of quality low-income housing in Muncie,” Steve, the city’s building commissioner, said. One night a month the Circles community, which works to lift people out of poverty, hosts a Big View session open to the public to discuss issues that people living in poverty face.

Last night we talked about housing.

“Two week into my job I got called out to a house.” Steve paused and stared at the floor. It seemed as if he was setting up a long story that would include details like where the house was and what it looked like. But then he sat back and got right to it. “A mother was holding her child and she forgot to put the rubber glove on that her landlord gave her to safely flip the light switch. They were both electrocuted.”

The room went silent. A breath would have been as loud as a gun shot.

“Now…now…” Steve said, not in a consoling sort of way but in a I should have said “shocked” instead of “electrocuted” way. “They were treated and released, but…I thought it was the only one. It’s not. I think it’s immoral to [as a landlord] take money and not provide simple services. “

For the first 15 minutes Steve talked about houses without running water and without electricity (or without safe electricity); places that endangered the lives and health of those paying to live there.

The mother who was shocked while holding her child paid $350 to live there.

Why would someone pay to live in those conditions? Probably because she’s scared. Would any other landlord rent to her? Would they want a deposit?

Who knows why she lived there. But living in poverty means you often have an extreme lack of options. Even Steve recognized his powers were limited.

“BUT…we can’t stop you from being evicted. “

So, you could report that your landlord isn’t providing a safe place that meets code. The building officials could come in and agree with you, but they couldn’t keep your landlord from kicking you to the curb.

What would you do? Would you keep your mouth shut or put on the glove?

Thankfully Muncie has a not-for-profit organization, Bridges Community Service, that helps mothers like this find new or temporary housing. But what if you didn’t know about that?

Last week I introduced a new Go Glocal challenge: research the poverty statistics in your backyard.

The poverty stats of my home county (Delaware County, Indiana):

20% live in poverty
23.5% under age 18 live in poverty

I’ve written about what the “poverty level” is before, but nothing quite sums it up for me as Steve’s story about the mother and her rubber glove.

Glocal, Glocal Challenge

Volunteers are the new city employees

By Kelsey

Ask not what your city can do for you; ask what you can do for your city. Chances are your city no longer has the budget to take on certain tasks.

The USA Today reports that Philadelphians are stepping up as “graduation coaches,” in Nashville citizens are cleaning waterways; in New York volunteers are painting roofs. These are all jobs that city employees would have done.

Twenty-two cities have created positions to recruit and manage volunteers. Has yours?

Asking for help isn’t easy

You couldn’t pay me enough to be in local government right now (or probably ever). Budgets are uber-tight and you’re in trouble if you spend money on something and you’re in trouble if you don’t spend money on something. So, you’d probably be in trouble if you admitted, “Hey, we can’t handle this on our own, help!” But there’s no doubt that people will help.

I would love to see the City of Muncie ask for help. On their website there is a place to complain, but there isn’t a place to Volunteer.

What if we all stopped bitching and actually did something?

Check out your cities homepage and see if there are any volunteer opportunities. If not, here’s a list of tools to help you find volunteer opportunities near and far.

-

Now excuse me while I tweet my Mayor: @MayorMcShurley How can I help? I just read this article and want to know how I can help Muncie.

Glocal

Jon Stewart hates the news

By Kelsey

Did you see Jon Stewart on Fox News Sunday with Chris Wallace? He was pissed. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him not funny for that long.

“The embarrassment is that I’m given credibility in this world because of the disappointment that the public has in what the news media does,” Stewart said.

“I don’t think our viewers are the least bit disappointed with us,” Wallace said. “I think our viewers think, finally, they’re getting somebody who tells the other side of the story.”

“Who are the most consistently misinformed media viewers?” Stewart shot back, his voice rising. “The most consistently misinformed? Fox, Fox viewers, consistently, every poll.”

Here are some thoughts on the polls Stewart was talking about.

Wallace was trying to get Stewart to say that FOX News has no more of a conservative bias than the mainstream media has a liberal one. Instead, Stewart hammered FOX News and said that the mainstream media is obsessed with sensationalism, conflict, and laziness.

I would like to see a poll on how many other news sources FOX viewers turn too. Many of the FOX viewers I know feel like the network is the only one that “gets them.” I guess what I’m saying is that I believe that FOX viewers are the most loyal and their unwillingness to look for news elsewhere contributes to the damning poll numbers Stewart referenced.

I watch FOX. I also watch CNN, MSNBC, BBC, Al-Jazeera, and tap into a world of news outlets via Twitter. I don’t always agree with the politics or viewpoints provided by all of these outlets. But whenever I find myself immersed in a world of people and pundits who see the world exactly like I do, I know I need to poke my head out of my bubble. I’m in danger of drinking some spiked Kool-Aid.

Agreeing with someone who thinks like you is easy. Considering an alternate viewpoint actually requires thought and may lead to learning.

I explore media stereotypes here.

Mad World

TOMS shoes: half-assed aid & a bad deal???

By Kelsey

I’ve written about the problem with TOMS and their critics and about TOMS recent big announcement: selling sunglasses.

Courtney Martin, author of Do It Anyway: The New Generation of Activists, takes the TOMS criticism to the glossy pages of the American Prospect magazine and even quotes me in the process:

Others argue that it’s important to see TOMS, and the businesses it has inspired, as baby steps in public awareness. Kelsey Timmerman, the author of Where Am I Wearing? A Global Tour to the Countries, Factories, and People That Make Our Clothes, writes: “The problem isn’t shoelessness. The problem is poverty. … If every person who slips on a pair of TOMS stops for a moment thinks about that level of poverty, it can only lead to good things. I always say step #1 is getting people to give a shit.”

Boy, won’t my grandma be proud?

“Kelsey, why do you have to be so vulgar?”

Actually my grandma wouldn’t say anything like that. She’s watched every episode of Walker: Texas Ranger starring Chuck Norris (Chuck Norris doesn’t have tiger blood; tigers have Chuck Norris blood) and every Death Wish movie Charles Bronson ever made. What I’m saying is that she can handle a little “shit” quote here and there.

Anyhow, back to the article.

Martin criticizes TOMS:

…it is the vastly unequal global economic landscape that we’re living in that makes it possible for one person to spend $135 on a pair of sunglasses, what TOMS is charging, while another can’t even afford a pair of eyeglasses to see properly.

The one-to-one model, at least in its current form, may be more effective at sustaining the desire for First World charity to Third World countries than it is in making any large-scale shifts in economic equality.

But she also offers examples of how similar BOGO companies are doing a better job than TOMS at making lasting change:

…it’s even more crucial that one-to-one entrepreneurs invest in systemic change, not just give to the poor. Warby Parker, an eyewear company that sold 20,000 pairs of glasses in its first year of business with almost no advertising, has departed from the TOMS shoe approach in a crucial way. Warby Parker doesn’t just buy eyeglasses for a citizen of the developing world every time it sells a pair of prescription eyewear for about $95; it donates to VisionSpring, an organization that empowers people, especially women, in underdeveloped nations to start local, small businesses that provide low-cost eyeglasses. VisionSpring has long-standing relationships with poor communities around the world.

There’s shopping and then there’s charity. Doing both at the same time gets you half-assed aid and a bad deal.

Glocal

Over the Hill

By Kelsey

This weekend I visited King’s Island with my little brother, Alex. In the above video you can listen to my thoughts on riding roller coasters at 32 or read the essay below.

There’s a slight disconnect between the essay and the video. I wrote the essay about our first ride of the day - the Vortex. The video is from the Beast and is more than a bit shaky. The Beast is the roughest roller coaster I’ve ever been on. As Alex put it, “The Beast is a 3-minute 40-second car crash.”

Over the Hill

The train ratchets up the hill and I have one question on my mind, “Am I too old for this?”

It doesn’t really matter. I can turn around and see where I was, how low I’ve been. But at this point there’s no going back.

There’s the sky and the trees and the going up, up, up.

There’s also Alex. Alex is my little brother with Big Brothers and Big Sisters. I try talking to him, but he’s focused, lost is a world of unrealized fear.

The potential fear grows by the second. Every foot we gain, we have more to lose.

I remember being here when I would be checked at the “You must be taller” sign. I remember how the adults – serious people in their 30s – would talk about how they could no longer ride. They hurt too much, or it made them sick.

When does that happen?

I’m thinking about being an adult, about being a dad, about mortality, responsibility, about growing up, and about not throwing up. I’m thinking about ups and downs – the kind of stuff that hums in our minds 24/7.

Over the hill, and I let go and lift my hands in the air. Alex does the same. Not a care in the world. No doubts. No responsibility, just the air running its fingers through our hair and our fingers running through the air.

Loops and corkscrews could be metaphors for something, I’m sure of it, but I don’t care. They’re there and Alex and I zip through them at 80 miles per hour.

We do the funny handshake Alex invented. We laugh. We holler at the riders in front of us, who holler back. We don’t know them. We didn’t talk to them before and we won’t talk to them after. But we are nameless friends for 40 seconds.

We smile for the camera after the last corkscrew. We look at each other our faces twisted by G-forces, every smile muscle firing. I’m thirteen again.

Getting older doesn’t have to mean growing up. Sure, be responsible, but let yourself go, find pure joy, put your butt down on the Vortex, the Beast, the Diamondback, put it somewhere it doesn’t belong and enjoy the ride.

Put your stomach in the hands of physics and defy gravity. Fly through some engineer’s calculations and do that thing you are too old to do.

Life is a roller coaster, but don’t let your life (or metaphors) ruin the ride.

Let go, if only for a moment.

This Writer’s Life

Conan to grads: Failures can become catalyst for reinvention

By Kelsey

To say I’ve become obsessed with commencement speeches might be an understatement. I’ve watched Tom Hanks talk at Stanford, Colbert talk at a small college in Illinois, and this morning, Conan address Dartmouth.

I’ve given one commencement speech, way back in 2006. I think it went okay. One of the audience members peed her pants and several more picked their noses and ate it. My commencement speech was to middle-schoolers and kindergartners near my childhood home in Ohio. For my efforts, I received an honorary certificate of participation and a pen.

I haven’t done a commencement speech in a while, but I have delivered several convocation speeches to incoming freshman at universities that are using Where Am I Wearing as a common reader. I will do so again in the fall, which is why I’ve spent so much time watching wisdom-to-students speeches. Conan’s speech at Dartmouth is one of the better ones.

The speech is about 25 minutes long and I recommend watching the whole thing. Jokes account for more than the first half of the speech, but then he gets serious and addresses his perceived, very public failure, when at age 47 his dream changed.

Here are some of his nuggets of wisdom:

There are few things more liberating in this life than having your worst fear realized.

Your path at 22 will not necessarily be your path at 32.

It is our failure to become our perceived ideal that ultimately defines us and makes us unique…your perceived failure can become a catalyst for profound reinvention.

Whatever you think your dream is now, it will probably change, and that’s okay.

Uncategorized

The ONE app that could change the world

By Kelsey

The ONE campaigns to end poverty released their new app today in the iTunes store. Looks like a very cool way to be an engaged glocal. I’ll let you know what I think about it after I used it a bit.

Glocal

TOMS Glasses: an eye for an eye?

By Kelsey

“I had a very simple idea with a desire to help,” Blake Mycoskie, founder of TOMS shoes, told the TOMS employees in what appears to be a garage in Santa Monica.

That desire started with giving a pair of shoes to someone in need for every pair purchased form TOMS. I’ve offered up my thoughts on TOMS shoes before – shoelessness isn’t the problem, poverty is – and now I thought I would examine the next venture in the TOMS business, which was revealed on Tuesday…glasses.

“With every pair purchased,” he said. “TOMS will help give sight to a person in need. One-for-One…from this day forward TOMS isn’t a shoe company, it isn’t an eyewear company, it is the one-for-one company.”

Good for TOMS

My initial thought was, “Good for TOMS.”

Like Blake, I’ve seen my fair share of folks with vision problems while I traveled around the developing world. Sometimes a simple cataract surgery can be the difference between blindness and being unemployed. Helping someone see can help them become educated or get a job to support their family. Otherwise they are disabled in a world that really isn’t very nice to someone with special needs. (There are not crosswalk beepers in Bangladesh. There aren’t even any crosswalks. Crossing the street with unimpaired vision is dangerous enough.)

The cause is worthy and, in my opinion, more impactful than a pair of shoes. And the need is there. Over 500 million people around the world need vision correction, but have no access to it. Unlike shoes, prescription glasses or the services of an ophthalmologist can’t be found just around the corner in a lot of places and, if they can, those living on less than $2 per day likely cannot afford either.

Double Vision

TOMS isn’t the first company to tackle vision issues in the developing world with the one-for-one model. Warby Parker sells $95 prescription glasses and promises, “Buy a pair, give a pair: for every pair of glasses sold, we provide one to someone in need.”

Wow, that sounds familiar. Blake has championed the one-for-one movement for a few years now and encouraged other companies to follow suit. Warby Parker was obviously inspired by TOMS and now their inspiration has become their competition.

Blake discusses Warby Parker in Fast Company

TOMS non-prescription sunglasses cost $135, which makes the Warby Parkers much more affordable for customers. But this begs the question, if I buy a pair of TOMS glasses for $135 or a pair of Warby Parkers for $95, which purchase does the most good?

The one-for-one fog

No one knows. This is the heart of problem of the one-for-one model: no transparency. These are privately owned companies and they don’t have to open their books like not-for-profits do. For all I know, the amount of “good” my purchase does, might not be any “gooder” than adding $1 onto my purchase at PetSmart when I buy kitty litter for Oreo. In dollars and cents one-for-one could equal 1 for .1.

I would love to see TOMS, Warby Parker, and any other one-for-one companies tell their customers how much of their purchase will go to the cause that they are using to market their products.

What does it cost to put prescription glasses on someone on the other side of the world? Joshua Silver invented a pair of self-adjusted eyeglasses (he adjusts them to fit his prescription in a few seconds in the Ted talk below) that cost $19.

So yes, vision is a major problem that needs addressed. But until companies like TOMS who are using the cause to sell their products, become more transparent, we won’t see how much good they are doing.

The biggest problem with TOMS glasses

Max Headroom called…he wants his shades back.

Engaged Consumer