HOW HE SEES IT Class distinction: Where's the line?

By PAUL CAMPOS
SCRIPPS HOWARD NEWS SERVICE
One of the most overused phrases in the English language (or at least in its American variant) is "upper-middle class." It seems that anyone who isn't as rich as Bill Gates or as famous as Madonna can claim the presumptively wholesome status of being middle class, by relegating himself to the upper division of that endlessly expanding category.
A particularly ironic use of the phrase is found in Barbara Ehrenreich's recent book "Nickel and Dimed." A few years ago, Ehrenreich spent eight months working at entry level jobs in Florida, Maine and Minnesota, while trying (mostly unsuccessfully) to live off the proceeds of her wages.
"Nickel and Dimed" provides a valuable glimpse into the world of low-wage work, highlighting both how difficult that work usually is and how many obstacles poor people face when they struggle to save enough money to do something as basic as putting the security deposit down on a cheap apartment or paying for the most minimal health care.
Given Ehrenreich's evident sensitivity to class distinctions, it's somewhat jarring to read her description of herself as an "upper-middle class" person who has temporarily entered the world of the lower rungs of the working class. The book begins with Ehrenreich's description of being treated to an elegant lunch by Louis Lapham, the powerful editor of Harper's magazine, who over poached salmon suggests that Ehrenreich is just the writer to take a journey into the nether world of the working poor in America today.
At the time of this meeting, Ehrenreich was already a very successful and prominent writer, who had published several widely noted books, including at least one New York Times best seller.
"Nickel and Dimed" was an enormous critical and commercial success, so much so that Ehrenreich is now said to command five-figure speaking fees for lectures she gives around the nation. It would be interesting to know if even now the famous author considers herself "upper middle class."
Proposed definitions
Because there is no formal definition of just what makes someone a member of America's largely invisible upper class, I would like to propose the following definitions. To the extent any of these characteristics apply to you, you're probably an upper-class American, despite whatever protests you may make that you're still rooted in our virtuous middle class.
UYou've had your lunch paid for by Louis Lapham.
UYou've been stuck in annoying conversations with people who mention their experiences as students at Princeton University, apropos of nothing in particular.
UYou sometimes use the phrase "apropos of nothing in particular."
UYou have strong opinions regarding any of the following: the Alternative Minimum Tax, tiramisu, Beaver Creek, Colo., nannies, or anything having to do with cheese.
UYou have a child or pet named Aidan, Gillian or Chloe.
UYou have used the word summer as a verb.
Americans flinch at the phrase "upper class," perhaps because it conjures up images of English butlers, or Marie Antoinette. We like to think we're a classless society, in which everyone at bottom is the same, i.e., middle class, and in which any ambitious kid can grow up to be president.
And as long as that kid goes to Yale and gets into Skull and Bones, he's got a fairly decent shot of proving us right.
XCampos is a law professor at the University of Colorado.