America has long prided itself on being a land of opportunity. Since the 15th century, pilgrims have flocked to American shores, driven by the idea of ​​making money from the rich lands and resources available here. Over time, this image of America as a huge storehouse of money has neither changed nor diminished. Mentions of jobs and the economy can be found in every newspaper, in the most informal conversations and everywhere in the media. And because, throughout history, men have been the primary breadwinners and job holders, male identity and occupation are now joined at the hip. To quote Shelley Levene of Glengarry Glen Ross: “A man's his job” (Mamet 75). In a sense he is right; Today's world places great emphasis on how men earn their money and doesn't seem to care about much else. This interplay between masculine identity and the capitalist economy has been explored quite frequently and effectively in American theater, particularly in dramas of the past 100 years. The mixture of money and gender dynamics serves as the foundation for many of the greatest plays, including Death of a Salesman and Glengarry Glen Ross. What each of these dramas explores on this theme is largely different, but all shed light on what happens when capitalism and masculine identity intersect, and how it affects the characters, as well as the world in which they live. In this essay, I will argue that by tying their manhood to their business success, the men in these plays have created an unstable and ultimately emasculating world that benefits no one in the long run. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned”? Get the original Death of a Salesman essay by Arthur Miller who perhaps addressed this issue most famously, in his portrait of Willy Loman, a once-successful businessman who now falls on hard times in his old age. Willy is firmly committed to the idea of ​​working hard and applying himself to succeed. However, through a series of other characters' monologues and illuminating flashbacks, we see that his own life does not follow this outline at all. His brother Ben became much richer than Willy simply by stumbling upon gold during one of his adventures. And despite years of hard work and supposedly making money for the company, Willy is still kicked out by his new boss because he can no longer make sales like he used to. In short, the company doesn't care about Willy as a person, associate, or friend, just a means to make money. In postwar America, when sales were soaring and it seemed like the money would never run out, this harsh depiction of a business-oriented system was indispensable. As the war ended and America's new high-tech factory system began putting hundreds of thousands of returning GIs to work, many workers who had survived the Depression and the war faced unemployment - a thought that was not far from the audience's minds when the play was created. carried out (grant 54). The death of a salesman reminded us that what we did when we were up inevitably hurt us when we collapsed again. When Willy was in sales, he cheated on his wife, got caught by his son, and was overall an aggressive and rarely around father. But when factors beyond his controlend up putting him on the street, he must pay the price. He has to live in a house with the son he abandoned, the wife he betrayed, and the other child he perpetually neglects. The trappings of success can no longer occupy him. This story reflects that of America at the beginning of the 20th century. During the 1920s, the country's economy soared to celestial heights, as stock speculation and the rise of credit purchases left the nation deeply in debt. Then came the crash, and crime and poverty were unleashed. During the 1940s and 1950s, Miller's play and characters seemed to urge us all to be cautious about the fickleness of economic wealth. Charley sums this up well in a quote from the final scene: “You don’t understand: Willy was a salesman. And for a salesman, there is no bottom in life. He doesn't put a bolt in a nut, he doesn't tell you the law or give you medicine. He's a man in the blue, who relies on smiling and shining shoes. And when they start to stop smiling, it's an earthquake... Biff: Charley, that man didn't know who he was” (Miller 138). Most people create their identity through what they leave behind: children, marriages, things they built or made, or memorable exploits or accomplishments. This notion is linked to what the Greek thinker Epicurus called “natural desires”. The idea is that you can only desire to do certain things for a set amount of time before you are satisfied. If, for example, we eat a large quantity of food, we will become full and weary of eating. But Willy doesn't get tired. He sells smiles and shoeshine, dreams and ideas, things he can't use, the image of a person he may not be. Epicurus calls these “vain desires,” things entirely invented by humans. “Vain desires include desires for power, wealth, fame, etc. They are difficult to please, in part because they have no natural boundaries. If one desires wealth or power, no matter what one obtains, it is always possible to obtain more, and the more one obtains, the more one wants” (Cassier, 3). Willy Loman spent his entire life pursuing these things, and as he was gradually deprived of the ability to sell by the changing business climate, he began to suffer from the symptoms of withdrawal, which ultimately resulted in his demise. Money, it seemed, only brought him small amounts of happiness, and even these were greatly exaggerated by his mind. But it certainly brought him a significant share of misery. Yet, despite this, Willy attaches great importance to the idea and image of the working man. Throughout the story, he always looks with reverence at his older brother Ben, treating him with a love and respect that he shows no one else in the room. He will never be attacked or even doubted about Ben, his empire and his wealth. “The man knew what he wanted and he went for it!” He went into the jungle and came out, at the age of twenty-one, and he is rich! Willy says at one point (Miller 41). Perseverance and ambition – two traditionally masculine virtues – are therefore sufficient for professional success. And yet, he himself, despite years of dedication, is today gradually being pushed aside, having never achieved the economic status of his relationships. His virility and his professional reputation are worthless in the eyes of those around him and he must therefore try to express his masculinity by other means. In the same way that Swaino attempts to compensate for his lack of money and success with sinister sexual encounters in Small Engine Repair, Willy attempts toregain part of his virility through anger, tenacity and his own sexual tryst. Ultimately, this only pushes him further into a pit of misery. Willy has always been dazzled by these striking images, of Ben the adventurer, of Dave Singleman and his green slippers. Real life never measured up. Linda and Charley discuss this at the end of the play, after Willy's funeral. “Linda: I don’t understand. Especially right now. For the first time in thirty-five years, we were pretty much free and clear. He only needed a small salary. He was even done with the dentist. Charley: No man needs a little salary” (Miller 137). Willy has worked his whole life to achieve an ideal of salesmanship, which he acquired when he met a stranger in a hotel room, and which convinced him to pass up an opportunity to travel the world with Ben. When he repays his debts but loses his job, he is forced to accept the emptiness of his life. This ultimately pushes him to commit suicide, ending his life in exchange for some measure of control and dignity. Willy worked long and hard under the illusion that his job was what defined him as a man, but ultimately it was what destroyed him. This same principle is expounded, although in a different way, in David Mamet's Glengarry Glen Ross, a play on small-time real estate agents in Chicago. The plot centers around two of the characters, later revealed to be Moss and Levene, who steal leads from the company, which would, in theory, allow them to make more sales. It seems almost comical that two people would commit a federal crime for the purpose of professional gain – after all, it's just a job. But for the men in this room, it's not just a job. That's all. We never see them doing anything that isn't directly work-related: they don't see their family, play games, hang out with old friends, nothing. Even when they're joking around in a friendly way or going out to eat, it's all about getting ahead at work. Take, for example, the restaurant scene involving Ricky Roma and James Lingk. In this exchange, Roma seems to share his life philosophy with someone he has just met: “Stocks, bonds, art objects, real estate. Now: what is it? (Pause.) An opportunity. To what? To make money? Maybe. Lose money? Maybe. To “have fun” and “learn” about ourselves? Maybe. So what the fuck? What is not? It's an opportunity. That's all. It’s an event” (Mamet 49 years old). Roma here seems to be selling an almost existential point of view to his newly acquired companion: don't let the events and things in life define you, because they themselves are meaningless. It's up to the individual to decide what they mean. And yet, after sharing this liberating and liberating perspective with Lingk, Roma then launches into the following: “I want to show you something. (Pause.) This may not mean anything to you…and it may not. I don't know. I don't know anymore. (Pause. He takes out a small card and spreads it on a table.) What is it? Florida. Glengarry Highlands. Florida” (Mamet 50). All this rambling speeches led to a sales pitch. Roma, although he advocates the absence of labels and lofty concepts that keep us anxious and worried, himself works for the capitalist business institution. In a way, it's the ultimate horror. Roma's identity as a free spirit – if that is her true identity and not an affectation – has been distorted and perverted to serve the needs of the company.Roma can preach about viewing all things as mere opportunities, but ultimately he can only do that as long as he holds a high-ranking position on the board. These are his two options: stay on the board or starve. He is a slave to sales figures, and even his free bird persona has become an instrument of capital accumulation. Even the most basic relationships of these characters, the ones we see, anyway, are there purely for the sake of moving forward. Almost every line of dialogue spoken by the various salespeople is aimed at a self-centered ending. What appears to be a series of interactions between Moss and Aronow where they complain about their boss and their work is actually an attempt by the former to force the latter to help him build the case and abscond with quality marketing leads. Roma's monologue to Shelley where he tells Levene that he admires her and that they should be partners turns out to be a ploy by Ricky to steal money from the lead salesman. Living so long in this cutthroat business world has corrupted their ability to empathize and befriend one another. By the end of this play, even these characters—whose careers, lives, and self-esteem have been destroyed—are still destroyed in their own way. For these characters, the very act of speaking is just a means to achieve a financial goal. They are entirely absorbed in their occupations. Every experience they've had, everything they've done, every friendship they've made is just a way to make money, to win a car. If you can't monetize it, in this world that Mamet is creating for us, does it really matter? Perhaps this is why, in the second act, Roma is so outraged when Moss values ​​his own dignity over Levene's accomplishments. Money is really all these characters have, they win it and lose it. One of the salesmen is literally called "The Machine" in a seemingly positive way. When Moss begins to behave as if there is something more important than money – such as his rights – Roma becomes angry, because if money is not paramount, what does their life mean? ? Further evidence of this can be seen in the disparity in how Shelley and Williamson treat each other. In the first scene, Levene is completely and utterly humiliated by Williamson, over and over again, and is forced to go through various stages of obsequious behavior to try to get the leads he needs to keep his job. In order to even get access to decent leads, he has to offer a huge share to Williamson, who keeps raising the price just to see Levene squirm. And Levene, being at the bottom of the rankings, is forced to accept this indignity: “John. (Pause.) Listen. I want to talk to you. Let me do this for a second. I'm older than you. A man acquires a reputation. In the street. What he does when he's up, what he does otherwise…. I said "ten", you said "no". You said “twenty”. I said "fine", I'm not going to fuck with you, how can I beat that, you tell me?...Okay. All right. We'll... All right, twenty percent and fifty dollars in advance. It's very good. For now. It’s good” (Mamet 24). When Shelley can't sell, he has to lean in and do what Williamson wants. Compare that to his attitude right after closing what he considers a big deal: "Why shouldn't the sale stand?" Hey, fuck you. That's what I'm saying. You have no idea what your job is. The man is his job and you are screwed in yours” (Mamet 75). The problem is however, as Levene points out...