Rich Man's World

all the things I could do
if I had a little money,
it's a rich man's world.

Warren Buffet, the world's second richest man, is worth USD41 billion. Of that, he's giving away USD37.1 billion to charitable foundations.

Isn't it mind-boggling how so much wealth can be concentrated in one wrinkled old man, out of 6.5 billion people on the planet? If all that money was given to every single person in the world (including undeserving people like, let’s see - GW Bush, celebrities, Donald Trump, Mawi, the MP for Jasin, my parents, you, me) each person would get USD5.70.

Surely that's like a few months' income for at least two billion people?? What a difference five bucks would make.

But I guess the Sage of Omaha knows what he's doing. The bulk of the donation is going to the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, an organisation focussed on global-scale issues - vaccinations for Third World diseases, eradication of polio and treatment for children with HIV/AIDS. So, to all sensationalist media that ran the headline “2nd Richest Man gives fortune to World’s Richest Man” - just shut up.

That’s not the point of this post though, because I’m going to talk about Angelina Jolie (swoon, nggghrarrrh, pant pant…ahem) next, and who can be pointy-er than her? Yabadaba.

Ms. Jolie gives a third of her income towards charitable causes world-wide because she considers the quantum of what she gets as an actor as “stupid”.

Call that a self-promoting, self-aggrandising statement if you must (and I’ll call you shallow and intellectually-stunted in return), but the idea of a person being insanely overpaid for what they do is surely not so earth-moving. Hey, I think I’m overpaid for the little work I do*, compared to the molecular crumbs that “reward” the blood, sweat and tears of manual labourers and servants.

* Some might jump to the conclusion that I must be earning in 5 digits or something, in order to say that. Haha, no. It’s probably considered normal by industry standards, but I just think that these standards, as in corporate ones, are ridiculously generous the higher you go.

The thing that separates me from Ms. Jolie (aside from stupid Brad Pitt, a couple of oceans and ten million other things) though, is that whilst I think I’m overpaid, unlike her I don’t think I have enough to give away any meaningful fraction. Pocket change I could certainly afford, but here’s where Angelina ascends to the pedestal of awesome goddess-hood. A third of anyone’s income is hardly pocket change. A third of her income is probably the GDP of a small island nation. Yet she’s decided that she’s got enough for herself to give all that away, instead of say blowing it on a luxury car (MP for Jasin, I’m looking at you).

Ah. To be able to truly say - I have enough.


Recently, there’s been word of redeployment/reassignment at work. It’s been intimated that it would very likely mean a promotion for me and therefore more money.

Here’s the thing. My career so far has very consistently thrown out a pattern. When I left the first one in Melaka, I was offered partnership to stay (which was really stupid, Mr. O. I had like, what, all of at most 2 years’ experience?? What kind of business decision is that? No wonder your brother runs the family business while you flaff around in your Tai-Siew world). I didn’t.

When I left the second job because I had some personal issues to sort out, I was told to take a sabbatical for as long as I needed and come back to the job when I was ready, because my boss had big plans for me (and given our working relationship, I was pretty certain it wasn’t just an exploitative ploy/lip service). I declined and instead took another job at a significant paycut all for the sake of doing something new.

Somewhere along the way, I think in 2004, Mr. O offered to GIVE me his legal practice because he was retiring, together with support staff who agreed to stay provided I took over. Never mind that the obvious successor should have been the lawyer who’d worked for him since I left. Declined that.

When I resigned at the third job, I was given an immediate RM1k pay rise to prove my boss’s seriousness in wanting me to stay. I was the highest paid employee and had the most important perk (to me) – the luxury of sailing in at 9.45 a.m., much to her impotent chagrin. I left anyway.

Let us not speak of the fourth job because scumbags of the earth deserve no mention.

So what the Thing really is, is that while I have nowhere near the “I have enough, here, starving peoples of the world, take the rest of my riches and treats” level of wealth, I do, to a certain extent, have enough. As much as it would be soooo fine, I don’t need that plasma tv (I don’t I don’t I really don’t…. sniffle), the Magimix, the uber-cool notebook or a new digital camera. My blog as my witness.

Promotion/power/status comes at a price. And I’m not willing to give up my quality of life to suck at the Devil’s Teats of Corporate Bondage.


So here I am, left wondering how to save RM48,000 so that I can afford to be jobless and tenantless for 6 months in Adelaide, assuming that my Australian PR application is approved. This whole migration thing – the document-gathering, homework, math, projections – has kept me obsessed since we came back from Italy. Particularly the math/projection part, given that I’m a numbers bimbo. I can barely understand compound interest.

The obvious thing to do would be to accept the devil’s boobs and take a good long suck. Don’t tell me how that came out in so many kinds of wrong. Let’s focus here.

But apart from The Thing, there’s The Other Thing.

I’m really, and I seriously kid you not, really very lazy. Here’s how –

* A cheque in my favour had been sitting in my drawer since 22 June, waiting to be deposited. I work in a bank. I pass within 20 feet of the machine every day.

* Another cheque for about RM400 has been waiting for me upstairs at Claims since Monday. Just one floor up.

* I’ve been watching my nails grow like champions grow into dangerous weapons because I’m too lazy to find the nail-clipper.

* My hair is starting to curl girly-ly on my shoulders because I’m too lazy to drive to the salon. Appears that I’d rather have to use Snowie’s hairband and Hello Kitty-type clips than stop being lazy.

So what’s a lazy girl to do? (btw, I actually have no objections to being referred to as one, knicker-twisting gender perspective notwithstanding. Convenient mah.)

I honestly can’t be arsed to kiss butt (pun so intended), network, brainstorm and plan strategically. But a plasma tv would look sooooo fine on my wall.

All said though, the above hand-wringing is probably academic. Fact is, I’m the only person with the qualifications required for the position that might be created, unless they look outside the organisation. And unless I start looking for another job, I don’t think I’ll be given much choice if might becomes “will”. That’s cue for The Other Thing to come bite me in the butt. I’m way too lazy to start looking for another job.

Anyway, there’s no point is there, if I won’t be here in a year’s time? But I’ll still be here in a year’s time if I don’t rustle up RM48k to feel secure enough to go. Sigh.

Money money money. It’s a rich man’s world.

This post was brought to you by the letter “M” and the Devil’s Teats, whose milkshakes are better than yours.