Johnnie meets Ruppert in the deluge: a fictionalized encounter

    It was 2p.m., in the midst of the latest deluge, when Johnnie and Rupert bumped into each other while watching the litter float down the street. Rupert was ringing his brightly coloured Italian silk tie. Johnnie came running from the street, jumped towards the cover of the Spanish style columns that provided protection from the rain, and brushed up against Rupert’s shoulder.

   "Watch where you are going young man!"  Rupert’s words were pronounced carefully as he repositioned his body and brushed his shoulder with a gesture of disgust.

   "Sorry. Really. I’m very sorry...Hmmm... Ain’t seen rain like this in ages. Must be the warming up of the planet...

   "Oh come off it!

   "That’s what they say. Too much contamination, deforestation and all that."

    "Why don’t you tune in to a different channel?"

They didn’t seem to be on the same wave length. No surprise. Johnnie was the baker’s son. He wanted to study philosophy but his father needed him at the bakery. Rupert, the president of the Consolidated Western Bank,  was cursing under his breath because he had a top level appointment at five O’clock and how was he to dry his clothes and look decent if this God-forsaken rain continued falling in buckets? Johnnie didn’t mind the downpour that much: he was only dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and maybe the rain would provide him with an excuse to dich work and knock on his girlfriend’s door, as soon as the storm let up.

It is probably true, as they say, that we all belong to the human race. But this thing about being equal or having equal rights would appear to be a bit blown up. Weren’t governments in rich countries paying big corporations millions of dollars so they wouldn’t go bankrupt? A guy who has a fortune of, say, $2 billion dollars has a little edge on things, doesn't he? What does a bloke like that have to worry about? The government is there to save the system, right? If on the contrary you are a poor Joe who is going to bail you out? Who would treat you if you got sick? Strange, though. Lot's of poor people in places like the United States end up in the Army and don't even blink if Congress refuses to give them a universal medical care system...

The rain kept battering the street harder and harder. Was this a warning? Was Doomsday on its way?Tiny but growing waves were encroaching on the still dry sidewalk where Johnnie and Rupert and half a dozen others were warding off the storm, as best they could. The conversation meandered on and on like a river working its way to the sea, but suddenly took a philosophical turn.

"You know what I think?" ventured Johnnie.

"No."

"Money is the problem. Why did men invent money?"

"Don't be silly! What would we do without it? You need money to get more money. It's as simple as that. Who could you exist without it?"

"I don’t know. But is getting money the only thing we live for?"

"Getting philosophical, are you?"

"But it’s true, isn’t it? I mean people like you spend their time thinking how to make more while we wonder if we’ll make ends meet, or ever stash away enough to make our dreams come true."

"Don't be a fool! That’s the way the system works. You have to put money to work. It’s that easy. If you want money, invest in assets! Buy things that will increase in value instead of buying through your ears."

"If you’re talking about properties: I don’t have any and could never in my lifetime buy a house. Besides:Look at those poor blockheads who thought they were buying houses for peanuts. Back to where they started from. Worse: broke. Aren't we in a financial crisis because some rich guys inveigled us into buying worthless stock or underpriced properties?"

"Stop listening to socialists! Stop buying stupidities and start saving! That’s the only way to get ahead."

"What you call stupidities are things like food and clothes! So how do you expect me to save if I never have anything left over?"

"I did. Anybody more than a chicken brain can do it. The opportunity is there for whoever wants to grab it. Stop making a martyr of yourself and start saving!"

"Martyr? I ain’t no martyr. Just can’t afford anything but the basics."

Ruppert frowned. It was impossible to talk to people like this baker’s son. They’d never get anywhere. Why does money exist? To make more money. Imagine. Otherwise we'd still be in the stone age. Impossible not to believe that making money is the key to success. If you have money, people look at you differently, doors open..just got to grab the opportunities, that's all. You’d be an idiot not to. Isn’t the whole system based on money? Who doesn’t want a generous wad? How else could society make more things, invent new technologies, make life  easier  for everyone? And then they have the gall to criticize us for making money! Isn't success gauged on how much you earn? True. Somebody always has to loose. That’s logical. But that's the rule of the game. That’s human nature. So what’s the problem? Losing what you’ve accumulated. Indeed, a big headache. But nowdays the government steps in. There really isn’t that much to worry about. After all business is like the lottery, is it? Sometimes you win, sometimes you loose, sometimes you rake in a fortune. That’s human nature.You can't change that. What Communists don't understand is that people are basically selfish. What's wrong with that? Got to get ahead somehow, don't you? That’s what Ruppert thought.

Johnny had never talked to a guy like Ruppert. There was somethink like a fence separating them, closed doors, you know, the class system that nobody wants to admit. Nevertheless, Ruppert seemed ordinary enough, if you were to forget about that silk tie, that tailor made suit, the blackberry he was still drying with his Italian made hankerchief. Didn’t he have red blood in his veins? Didn’t people like Ruppert fall in love, get tired as a dog, have nightmares, die? Still, there was something inherently evil about the system and the way guys like him stacked up piles of dollars.You’d see all those skyscrapers, latest model cars...wasn’t all of this a false illusion? The wars, for example. Weren’t they fought to get markets or raw materials? Don't wars make the rich richer? They don’t die in wars, do they? They finance them.Poor guys die in wars that rich guys pay for. And then you’ve got the fast food joints. The Hollywood movies. Popcorn. Tearing down forests to plant soybeans or corn to make bio-fuels. Somebody or some country was always getting the upper hand at another’s expense, weren’t they? Does society always have to operate that way? Is getting more money the only purpose in a man's life? Those were questions that kept ringing in Johnny's head. 

"Hey!Who stold my wallet?!" It was Ruppert, his voice booming out like a blast furnace, even louder than the splattering drops of rain.

Something suddenly seemed more important than the storm. Who knows? In a previous life he might have been a policman or an army captain. He began to frisk every downpour refugee huddled under the column. The wallet contained four credit cards. A check for $133,000. The photo of his wife and his ten month old daughter. There was some cash too, not much. A few important documents related to that afternoon’s business meeting...Nobody had the wallet. Ruppert frisked everyone.Not even Johnnie had the walled. But he just had to get it back!

"Nobody’s going to move from here until my wallet appears!" he shouted, the blood gushing in his veins. Nobody moved. Nobody had the wallet. Nobody did anything. They just stared alarmed at Ruppert.

"Looks like you’re one of us now!" suggested Johnnie, a bit ironically. "Now you’re going to have to work like us. Put money in the piggy bank."

Ruppert was furious. It was serious business. It wasn’t time for crass jokes.

"Logical. How else can anyone advance? Want to stay forever in the stone age? Where is my wallet? It couldn't just disappear in thin air!"

"Who knows? Maybe the rain took it when you were running for shelter... Can I ask you a question?"

"No more questions! I want my wallet!"

"Tell me: why is it that some people make millions and others barely get to the end of the month?"

"This is not the time for stupid questions. That’s the way things are. God helps those who help themselves. Initiative. Guts. Desire to get ahead. Those are the keys to success."

"You don't say!...Looks like you’ll have to put your theories to work, start from scratch, without your wallet, whether it was God’s work or not...."

"I’ll find a way. Don’t you worry. I’ve got lot’s of other capital. In business you always have to have a trick or two up your sleeve."

"So it's not just hard work. It's knowing the right people..."

Two days later the water drenched wallet appeared at a door step a block away. The caretaker stared at it dumbfounded. The money was all there, stuck together, impossible to use. It was also impossible to read the amount on the check. The credit cards were as soft as wet cardboard. The other documents had been completely destroyed by the water.

The Evening Standard’s banner headline the next morning announced: "Consolidated Western Bank Goes Under." There was a photograph of the entrance to the bank vault and a caption, which read: "Government to Bail Out Bank Executives."