Real Money v. Chump Change
Saint Peter don’t cha call me ‘cause I can’t go, I owe my soul to the Company store… --from the song 16 Tons
The best things in life are not free. Real freedom is the ultimate refuge of real wealth. With it, life can be heaven sent; without it, life’s a royal pain. You’re either a champ or a chump—the captain of your soul, or somebody’s vassal. Add up all the possessions that you have--your bank/investment accounts, home, auto, furniture, clothes, even your significant other, and you can find your niche. If you can claim enough ownership of things, more likely than not, you also have money in the bank and independent sources for getting more at your beck and call. The more, the merrier. Your self-esteem soars, your outlook on life reaches far beyond the horizon, and even the air you breathe is sweeter. Material life is good.
Compare and contrast a life of plenty to that of the sap over there in the corner. If he owns nothing, he is a lost soul who needs somebody’s permission to squat or to think—literally. Here are a few cases in point that showcase those of us near the bottom of the totem pole, and those at the top:
Example #1. I once put together a resume for a position that sounded good. I sent it to the executive VP of a rather large corporation. Within a few days he called me. We chatted like a couple of old pals. At the end, he said: “Why don’t you come in and we can discuss this issue further?” I agreed.
When I arrived at his pearly gates, the only way in was through the dismal offices of human resources. One of the lowly members inquired of me: “Is there something I can do for you?” To which I replied “Yes, just direct me to the office of James Kingston. He is expecting me.”
She immediately contacted her supervisor, and after a short discussion, she returned with an employment application. Her instructions were “Please take a seat and fill this out.”
I immediately countered with “You don’t understand. I am not here seeking employment. Jim invited me to come in, and he asked me to come directly to his office.” That drew a second round of discussions among the office staff.
“I am sorry, sir. But there are no exceptions. Everyone must complete an employment application” was their decision. Whereupon I said: “It’s OK. I’ll see Jim tonight at the Country Club. But I wouldn’t worry. I doubt if your names will even come up.” With that lie, I turned and left.
He called again a few days later. I explained what had happened. He promised to look into the matter and to call back. He did. And he said “Well, it is company policy that everyone must complete an employment application.” I replied “Are you offering me the position?” And he answered “No. I am just getting your name and other information on record.” He and I both knew the difference between an employment application and an employment contract. You have no rights with the first, but you can set some of the terms with the second. With a contract you are not an employee-at-will, and cannot be fired by the first jackass who claims a higher income.
I informed him that I had no interest in signing away everything to the company even before being offered a position (Note: I never use the term “job” with any potential employer, but fall back on my credentials for support. I didn’t earn a Ph.D. to be treated like the last janitor in line. “If it ain’t negotiable, I ain’t interested.”). I lost that battle.
This next example is better.
Example #2. A few years ago Jack Nicholson was a presenter at the Academy Awards show. He walked out to loud cheers from well-dressed actor/director millionaires with his own multi-million dollar smile. He had the elite of Hollywood as his audience, and there were perhaps another 100 to 200 million TV viewers from around the world watching. He promptly turned his back on everyone, bent over, and grabbed his left buttock with his left hand, and his right buttock with his right hand, and began to talk to everyone while flapping his butt cheeks as if he were talking to one and all through his a**hole. Some in attendance gasped, most smiled, and about 25 percent of them laughed. Nicholson did not seem to care one way or the other. Did I mention his net worth was somewhere between $300 and $500 million? His performance was his way of saying “F**k you, world. I can do it my way.”
Example #3. Marlon Brando never attended one of those award ceremonies, not even to accept an Oscar for Best Actor. It is reported that he preferred to stay on his privately owned island in the South Pacific, with his private landing strip, his common law Tahitian wife, while inviting his chosen few to fly in and relax in the comfort of the South Pacific breezes. He is also reported to have filmed or captured their movements in their bedrooms and/or baths with hidden close-circuit cameras planted for his entertainment, while drinking and laughing with perhaps two or three of his closest friends.
Examples #4 and 5. Gated communities and extreme isolation from the rest of humanity seem to be at the core of our deepest needs, regardless of age, gender, race, religion, or political beliefs. We want to be left to hell alone. Barbra Streisand sued the US Coast and Geodetic Survey Group a few years ago when one of its pilots flew over her property situated on a bluff high above the Pacific Ocean along a portion of the most expensive terrain in California while he was mapping the land for the government. She lost the lawsuit but was happy to pay the price just to show them she wanted to be free from peering eyes.
Apparently you and I are unable to even find Clint Eastwood’s luxury domain somewhere south of Carmel, CA up there in the mountains. There are no roads, private or otherwise, going in or out. You must fly in by helicopter. Clint flies his own whirly bird to and from his domain. He doesn’t hand out maps or give directions about the location of his digs.
There you have my case. It takes about $500 million to find your place away from everyone, where you are the boss, and you have the freedom to do what you want, when you want. We, the other 99 percent, must be content to watch a fleeting sunset, or count a few stars before the storm hits us, or we play make believe while walking along a public path where cutthroats, muggers, and rapists hide in the bushes waiting to pounce, rape, pillage, and plunder.
It makes you wonder what Thomas Jefferson had in mind when he referred to the “pursuit of happiness.” I suppose he was worth the equivalent of $500 million in his day what with being a lawyer, architect, founder of the University of Virginia, with 5,000 acres of land, and with more than 600 slaves coming and going during his lifetime there. One man’s plantation is another man’s solitude. In contrast Jimmy Carter made serious inquiries as to his eligibility to shop at military commissaries for groceries after his days as president based on his former position as commander-in-chief. He gives new meaning to the term, chump change.
And as I recall, Marlon Brando became morbidly obese and something happened to his son--murdered? A regretful part of being out of the limelight. My mother told me (I didn't read it) that Shelley Winters wrote in her memoir that Brando had a raccoon in his New York apartment.
I flew over John Travolta's and Morgan Freeman's places in Grand Cayman Island in a helicopter. Will they sue me?
I'm not sure even the likes of Clint Eastwood can escape Google. I think I'll go to the computer and see if I can zoom in on that private enclave near Carmel. In the meantime, "Play Misty for me."
Ron
You clinched showing the demarcation line between the haves and have-nots, even though "wealth" is a matter of perspective when you count blessings rather than change.
Love ya!
Jane