I am surrounded by people who don’t work. These folks are not “unemployed,” which I define as someone who can’t find a job; these are people who simply don’t work.
These are all people who were able to retire young or, thanks to a trust fund, have never worked at all. They include my friend Patrick who received a huge inheritance from an Aunt who he thought had died decades earlier. There is my friend Joe who married a dot-com millionaire he met on Grindr. There is my friend Soraya who likes to say, with a laugh, “I made my money the old-fashioned way. I married it.” Soraya, by the way, would be surprised that she has a reputation for marrying wealthy old men who are on their deathbeds. She has only done this a couple of times, but you know how people talk.
And then there is me. While my friends spend their days playing golf and embarking on ill-advised love affairs with kids half their age I am still working way more than 40 hours a week and complaining that retirement is not even on my radar.
“If you didn’t work you’d be bored,” said my partner, who retired young, and is not bored.
“You’d be miserable if you retired, “ said my younger brother who retired even younger than my partner did, and is not miserable.
Since I am clearly not destined to be bored or miserable anytime soon, I went to the office and started my day by checking my e-mail. I always begin by deleting the messages advertising Viagra from China and brides from Russia and fat-burning fruit from the Amazon, but today one of the messages caught my eye.
It was from a Mr. Darwin Deveraux, Esquire, from Nigeria and the subject line was: “You have inherited 20 MILLION DOLLARS (US).” I was intrigued.
“Dear ANDREW GUY,” I read. “One of my client were the WEALTHIEST man in Lagos, and he died without some heir. Not even ONE. His will narrated that his fortune of TWENTY-ONE MILLION DOLLAR (US) be bestowed on someone with his VERY SAME NAME. “
I paused; my name is not “Andrew Guy” but I decided that for $20 million I could change it. I kept reading.
“There is NO ONE in Nigeria who carry the appellation ANDREW GUY,” I read. “Not even ONE. I did some Internet search and I find ANDREW GUY who lives in FLORIDA. That is you.”
This was an excellent sign; I began to plan my retirement party.
“I am pleased to inform ANDREW GUY that if he can validate who we think he are he is entitled to the ENTIRE bequeathment, less my fee which is only ONE MILLION DOLLAR (US). “
That seemed like a pretty steep fee, but I decided not to be greedy.
“Here is what you MUST do to be WELL ENDOWED for life,” the letter continued. I decided not to parse that sentence too closely — I kept reading.
“Please to send me IMMEDIATELY a copy of your driver’s license (US) and your AMERICAN EXPRESS PLATINUM card. (The one that have no spending limit.) Make sure please to copy the FRONT and BACK of each evidence.”
I was getting concerned.
“You must also please to send your US SECURITY SOCIAL Number so we can DEMONSTRATE your existence and your SAVINGS ACCOUNT number and Bank ROUTING number so we can inaugurate the WIRE TRANSFER within three day or maybe five.”
The letter continued for a couple more paragraphs but I had lost interest and I deleted Mr. Darwin Deveraux, Esquire. Then, sighing, I reminded myself I would hate being bored, miserable and retired so I went back to being bored, miserable and employed.