Wealth Inequity (Asphodel Chronicles)

 

(Be gentle. First draft quality.)

Cassandra had been slowly building up the format for the virtual bookstore and her audience.

Live-stream viewers had plateaued at about thirty. She heard that was common. Unfortunately, the number of “views” after the pod-casts were posted on-line rarely climbed much over 100.

She figured it would take them a few months for the group to find their sea-legs and a few more for their natural audience to start finding them.

To make the incubation period endurable, she invited more people than would be optimal for a polished video with good “production values”. She also chose to invite guests who were opinionated inclined to have spirited conversations.

Sometimes, one gets more than they bargained for.

The first book review of the day was from a retired economics professor and he was reviewing Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations and expounding on The Invisible Guiding Hand.

His presentation was drier than dust.

Cassandra was philosophical about such things. There had been a lot of growing pains when they first opened their bookstore. Imagine, they had two entire, full-length shelves dedicated to comic books!

One of the disadvantages of the very-high-end unidirectional microphones Cassandra had been gulled into buying is that they picked up EVERYTHING, especially when they had 30dB gain along their axis and the videographer had them pointed directly at her most volatile contributors.

The side conversation Jana was having with the lady next to her was clearly picked up. “That is total bull-shit” she said, nodding toward the retired professor.

“Why do you say that?” the lady asked.

“That invisible-hand is a trope to justify the obscene wealth inequities in America” Jana said, dismissively. “It is immoral.”

Jana’s voice had gotten louder as she had been talking. Jana was extremely passionate about what she saw as the root of all evil: Wealth Inexuities.

Cassandra looked around. She could shush them or let them keep going. The professor’s spiel was looking more-and-more like a total write-off. She decided to let Jana’s umbrage mature.

Turning slightly, Cassandra asked “Do you care to elaborate?”

The professor, who frankly had not ever been very effective at teaching, became distracted by the side discussion as well.

“What I mean is, how much money does a person really NEED” Jana started out. “Look at all of these millionaires with 500 foot-long yachts and mansions all over the place.”

“And just to rub salt into the wound, millionaires go to fancy restaurants in places like Los Vegas and they don’t even have to pay their bill! The restaurant ‘comps them’ and writes it off as a marketing expense!” Jana said.

The economist rubbed his chin and then asked “When you say ‘millionaire’ what is the picture in your head? Where do you think he keeps his assets?”

“I don’t know” Jana said. “But that is not the important thing. What is important is that these blow-hards and braggarts are spending money like water. Money that could be helping poor people.”

The elderly gentleman who had been wiping down the tables near the pod-cast squeezed out his wash-cloth and put it into the rubber apron around his waist. He decided to take a break and listen.

The young lady running the cameras noticed the elderly gentleman and “slaved” one of her camera/microphone pairs to follow him. The person who trained her told her that it made sense to “buy a few lottery tickets” when you have extra cameras.

“When a person buys a boat, any boat, where do you think the money they paid for it goes?" The professor asked. "Do you think it is stacked into a pile in the middle of the floor and set on fire or do you suppose it goes to the workers in the factory and to the people who supplied the materials used to make the boat...all the way down to the people in Indian and Thailand who harvested the teak used to make the floors and rails?”

Jana, sensing a trap, danced around the question. “That is beside the point. The money Beelzebub Jefferies spent on his yacht could have been given directly to the poor people without them having to sweat for it or be exposed to environmental toxins.”

Jana had just read an article about the kinds of solvents used in many kinds of plastics.

“What about the hundred or so people who are currently employed taking care of that yacht or who work at the marina providing logistical support for that yacht?” the professor asked. “They have no work if there is no yacht.”

“You are missing my point” Janna pressed. “Nobody NEEDS a yacht.”

Cassandra mused under her breath “And nobody ever NEEDS another book”. And of course the microphone slaved to her picked it up.

Cassandra had spent extra for the window-within-a-window-within-a-window option in Oyvay-Toob. Viewers could customize their viewing experience by following specific speakers or they could jump to most-recent speaker or they could let Oyvay-Toob’s algorithm guide the windows.

Later, looking at the traffic, Cassandra saw that the viewership hooked sharply upward after her comment.

“Ok, forget about Beelzebub Jefferies for the moment. Look at Prometheus Lunge. He bought a social media site just so he could write irresponsible graffiti whenever he wanted to” Jana said.

The old guy in the much-laundered, gray Dickies (65% polyester, wears like iron) who had been wiping down tables startled and moved toward closer to the group.

He entered Cassandra’s cone-of-vision. She looked over and recognized him. “Yes, Bob, do you have something you want to share?”

Bob’s gaze flitted over the assembled group. It was not his job to interject himself or his opinions upon paying customers. “It depends on what they want” he said, nodding toward the people in the pod-cast “I don’t offer opinions where they are not wanted.”

“Yes! Of course!” Jana interjected. “He is exactly the kind of guy who is exploited by ‘the invisible guiding hand’ and by wealthy people.”

“Are you sure…” Bob asked, tentatively. He was looking directly at Jana. “Are you SURE you want my opinion?”

The very faintest ghost of a smirk formed upon Cassandra’s lips.

“Absolutely!” Jana said.

“What do you think of Prometheus Lunge buying Spitter for $50 BILLION dollars! Money that you could have used to feed your family?” Jana crowed.

“I think that if he paid his own money for it, he can do any darned thing he wants with it, excuse the cussing” Bob said.

It took Jana a heartbeat to process what he said.

“How can you say that?” she asked.

“We recently had the stalls in our restroom repainted. Do you have any idea how much it costs to repaint a bathroom?” Bob asked.

Jana frowned and shook her head “No”.

“It cost $2000 to have six stalls repainted to cover up the graffiti. They have to use a special kind of paint” he explained.

“At least Prometheus scribbles on his own walls and not on somebody else’s property” Bob opined.

Jana had never thought of it that way. That graffiti was vandalism and somebody had to pay to clean it up. She had thought of it purely as a freedom-of-expression issue.

Jana pivoted again. The conversation was not going the way it would have if she was having it with her retired, college professor peers.

“But you have to admit that if the millionaire who owned this truck-stop was more generous you could afford better clothes and could actually eat better food” Jana offered.

“No, quite to the contrary” Bob said.

Jana swept her gazed from his water-stained work-boots to his faded, gray Dickies to his cheap wrist-watch and thin, plain, gold wedding band.

“I don’t think you have a very good grasp of economics” Jana said in as kindly of a tone as she could manage. “What did you and your wife have for dinner last night?”

“We shared a chicken-basket that a customer complained about. She said it was over-cooked and demanded the shrimp basket to make-it-right” Bob said.

“THERE! That is what I am talking about. If the owner of the truck-stop wasn’t so damned cheap, you could be eating steak instead of garbage that customers refuse to eat.” Jana crowed.

Bob seemed to be mulling over some question in his mind. Finally, he made his mind up.

“What is the name of this truck-stop?” he finally asked.

“It’s Bob’s Truck-stop. Everybody knows that!” Jana said as if the bus-boy was an idiot.

Bob pointed at his name-tag. “My wife and I own the truck-stop.”

Slightly edited, that became Cassandra's break-out video. It had over a half-million views in the first month.

To Jana's credit, she agreed to allowing her part in it to be viewed. A lesser person would have been embarrassed. Jana saw it as a growth opportunity.