"The Unasked-For Sequel To 'How Much Do You Make'?"

Concerning, specifically – so you can skip this if you want to – “You Make Too Much” and its judgmental relation, “How much do you need?”

A financial adviser once bolsteringly told me,

“Earl!  You’re in the ‘One Percent!’”

To which I predictably replied,

“Yeah, but I’m at the bottom.”

Not that I’m counting.

That was ironic, because I am.

When it comes to money, we live in a culture where we are supposed not to notice, or at least inordinately care about, the gaping disparities in “Net worth.”  Which, if you think about it, is strange. 

If we saw incomprehensible behavior in another culture, we’d immediately go “What!?!”  And a confused member of that alien culture would go, “What do you mean?” 

That’s us, about income disparity.  We are functionally oblivious.  Making “You make too much” an “Inoperable statement.”

We seem reluctant to change things, because, you know… “This might work out.”

So we “keep the door open.”  Nobody’s closing down Vegas.  The next slot-machine quarter, and you’re them.

I don’t know why this bothers me.  I did more than okay.  It’s just… you know what? I’m not going to go into it.  See:  One of my less forgivable post entries, “The Super-Rich Are Ruining Things For The Wealthy.”

And when you get down to it… I can’t fault somebody like Lebron.  Magnificent athletes are like,

“You want ‘My money’?  Dominate in your field.”

So I don’t begrudge that.  Or I begrudge it a little less.  “Watching millionaires playing for billionaires”, as they say – it does temper my enthusiasm for the game.  

Still, “Unique talent”?  I say, “Go for it!”  (Explainable by my having once been considered a unique talent.)

But then, by troubling contrast, there are times when the rubber inexorably hits the road.  By which I mean – risking mis-choosing a metaphor – it matters.

Okay.

My daughter Anna.  Looking for a Primary Care Physician.  (Or, as we called them in Canada, a “G.P.”)  She gets a recommendation from her pediatrician.  She makes the call for an appointment.

They tell her, off the top, they are not taking insurance. 

An “Introductory Consultation”?

The fee is seven hundred dollars.

Seven hundred dollars for “Hello.”

Check out the office décor and the magazines –    

“People and Us.  What is this, a ‘Nails’ salon?”

Seven hundred dollars to find out.

She decided to pass. 

But the question remains – at least for me –

“Hey, doctor.  How much do you need to make?”

This is not a basketball player; it’s a doctor.  Hopefully, both excel at their jobs.  But one of them dribbles and dunks.   The other helps you not die. 

The thing is, it’s the same culture.  And both of them are “goin’ for the downs.”  (Baseball terminology for “hitting it as far as you can.”  In this case, contractually.)

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Forget about that or your head will blows up.  This is America.  That’s what we do. 

Which leads, possibly, to this.

Two doctors in the same “Specialty” meet at a party.  The two inevitably “Talk shop.”  One doctor still takes insurance.  The other doctor takes nada.

And he’s driving a fancier car and he’s flying First Class.

Posing the question:

How long can the nice doctor hold out?

My “Primary Care” doctor still takes insurance.

I better get sick fast before he doesn’t.