Friday, I saw the dream of capitalism fulfilled. I read at Google’s New York office.

If every company were as profitable as Google is, we’d be the happiest nation in the history of the world. (Truth is, we’re not even the happiest in our world. The new Division I Champion of happiness is Denmark.)

But I urge you all: go to see a Google office. It’s the workplace as fantasyland. All their employees eat lunch for free, five days a week, in two cafeterias; both cafeterias are manned by a guest celebrity chef, and both offer even entry-level day-laborers the joy of all-you-can-eat celebrity shrimp or celebrity steak or celebrity vegan surprise—(let me repeat) for free!

What’s more, throughout the office, every hundred yards or so (the space is huge), snack islands give bottled water away—and nuts and cereal and granola-bars and gum and breath mints—plus a lot of other things I didn’t have time to sneak into my pocket on the way out. Of course, being hyper-profitable buys one a kind of generosity turbo charge; a sense of everyone’s racing together toward perfection; the wind whipping a pretty color onto the whole world’s cheeks. It’s nice. I wonder how many companies have ever gotten the chance to be so munificent?

Anyway, another perk Google affords its employees (along with the Razor kick-scooters that people use to get around, and the indoor basketball court, etc.): free books. Once every week or so, the company invites authors to give readings. Then, it gives every employee who shows up a free copy of whatever the author’s hawking. On Friday, I was that author, selling my wares.