He works for a family-owned conglomerate with close ties to the governments of yesterday, today and tomorrow. The group keeps a low profile by steering away from controversy. Still this has not prevented it from manoeuvring to enjoy the benefits of its closeness with those in power. Is it part of what is usually termed state supported bourgeoisie or the traditional one? It matters little for there is not much difference. Both thrive on greed.
In recent times, the family has been embroiled in legal hurdles arising from one of its endeavours. It has retorted with threats of litigation and has broken away with its discreet ways with an overdose of poorly crafted messages designed by hefty PR experts. Interviews have been given left and right with broadly the same message: the key role of the organisation in the country’s success and the great prosperity likely to be enjoyed by those who will participate in their project. It is so amateurishly executed that the desire to manipulate is visible. Besides the interviews, another member of the dynasty has been placed in a position where he is allowed to pontificate on what he believes should be done on the economic front and who in the process indulges in the promotion of his benefactor. Both are beggars; one prior to the elections who seeks financial resources, one after the popular consultation who yearns for more financial power. They depend on each other.
The best part of the working day is the journey home. The cars are often limited to the transportation of a single passenger. If anything, it echoes the sad, lonely lives we lead. What do the other victims think of? What do they listen to? To the almost constant advertising that the radios inflict upon us? Or do they opt for Mozart and Bach to soothe their souls? Do they choose the salvation of classical music after a day of work has savaged their minds? I know not. Do they aspire to revolt against a system that renders them weak? Or have they succumbed to fatality?
Every once in a while, a passionate F1 fan tries to impersonate Lewis Hamilton before he is reminded that it is communism that rules the streets and he finds himself stuck in the traffic, like everyone else. But equality is thwarted every once in a while when one of those VVIPS followed by the traffic police has us cast on the side so that the fragile emperor may reach his destination on time. Who does he meet? One of the billionaire heirs who always glorifies him? Maybe.