I've been told that I was born with a silver spoon. What exactly does that mean? Am I one of the privileged few? If this means having money, then I'm guilty. But don't admire or condemn me too quickly, as you haven't walked that proverbial mile in my shoes.
I can say with some certainty that although I may not have earned what I have, I paid the price. I continue to pay for the sins of my parents. I won't try to mislead you, I am not saying my parents were the only reason I am who I am, but that doesn't absolve them either.
My grandfather made his money the old fashioned way, with backbreaking labor and sweat. If only the sweat were his own he may have been respected. He became rich riding the backs of poor and unprotected labor. He paid a man half of what he was worth, and twice what he would have liked.
This leads us to my father, a man forced to do the bidding of my tyrannical granddad. He was treated as an employee rather than a son. He did work hard long hours, but he had a carrot on a string so to speak. He would inherit his father's millions.
His handicap was a new generation, the generation of union workers and employee rights. His hard work and abilities led to his success in business. He learned how to handle the unions and the company prospered.
Me, well I simply don't worry about my grandfathers business. I have others do it for me. There is an entire staff of highly trained and qualified managers to keep stuffing money in my pockets. The industry is booming, and we rake in more than our share. I will honestly concede the company thrives in spite of my lackluster efforts.
You might think me a rich spoiled child, despite my thirty some years. You could be right, but it simply makes no difference what you think. I lead my life the way I see fit, your opinion of me is not my concern. I have become numb to the expectations of those around me. This as you will see, was not caused by my fortune. The cause was brought on by those closest to me in my life. Yes, my father, my mother and later my wife.
My life began thirty eight years ago. I was brought onto this earth kicking and screaming, on a cold winter day. My father Robert Jr. christened me Robert III, for my grandfather Robert Sr. By the time I was born, Sr. had long since passed, leaving his business and fortune to my father to carry on.
My "dad" worked hard to build his reputation as a hard-nosed businessman. He only married when he heard his biological clock ticking. The sole reason for his nuptial union with my mother would be me, an heir, to perpetuate the family name. My father married late in life at forty four, my mother was twenty.
There was no room in fathers' life for me other than in name. He worked long hours, and I don't even really remember him. If you thought of your childhood memories, you probably will see many pictures of your father. Mental images of him at the beach or a picnic, perhaps at your graduation. I have no such memories.
I learned many years after his death that his life was his business and the many mistresses he kept. My mother was for breeding only, a young wife to raise his child. She no doubt had loved him, but the love was never returned.
My birth meant and end to romance for her. After a few years of trying to unsuccessfully persuade Robert Jr. to become a real husband to her, she let the alcohol and depressants comfort her.
I was raised by a nanny, paid to see to my physical requirements. I was treated more as a possession than a loved member of the family. As I grew old enough, I was sent to the finest boarding schools. I went to, and was expelled from the best institutions money could buy.
Military school was where I learned to accept what I was. I was an out cast, not wanted by my family. Not wanted in any way, but by the school for the money I could bring them. They were paid handsomely to keep me. I was disciplined to the point of conformity. They would not let me leave, nor let me act like the child that was thrown out of every other school on the East Coast. If they failed the school would lose their largest benefactor, my father.
I saw life as it truly was. I was not to be valued for any contribution on a human level, but rather my worth was to be assessed by those that could profit financially from our relationship.
I heard of my parent's death while in college. The facts were hidden from me at the time, but I would later discover the horrible truth. My parents died on the same day, in two seemingly unrelated events. The official cause of death, given at the time, for my father was heart failure. My mother's was listed as a motor vehicle accident.
I would learn years later that a 9mm slug had caused my dads' heart to fail, and coincidentally my mother was in the room at the time. I would also find out that one of dads' many mistresses had also met with an untimely demise in the same bed, at the same time.
My mother's death would prove mysterious as well. The speed of her Porsche was estimated at over 130 mph when it collided with a power pole. It would seem her blood alcohol level was a shade under the lethal dosage.
Would your world have been shattered upon learning of your parent's death? Well, to be truthful it was very nearly the same as hearing two strangers had died. The spin control my fathers company launched made the event appear as two wholly unrelated tragic accidents. At the time no one questioned it, and to this day it is really of no consequence to me how they lived or died.
Are you asking yourself, how anyone can be this heartless? I don't perceive myself as uncaring, simply indifferent. Do you cry when a stranger's death occurs thousands of miles from you? I think not. Certainly if a child dies through the actions of others you or I may shed a tear. But a cheating husband and a drunk driver will go almost unnoticed.
At the young age of twenty, I was forced into the world of high finance. In military school I learned two valuable lessons. Loyalty and diligence will be rewarded, and poor performance and betrayal deserve severe punishment. These small bits of knowledge have served me well.
The top-level administrators of my fathers company, no make that my company now, were ineffective and indecisive. A change was in order, so I made that change. I've trusted one man in my life, and only one. He was military, he was loyal and he always told me what I needed to hear not what I wanted to hear. He was the math teacher at the academy. John Miller was as close to a father as I had known.
I had to beg to convince John to work for me. He had no use for industry, or the type of people that occupied the top positions. John was certain he would be in over his head, as he didn't know the business world. When I reminded him a General didn't need to know how to fire a rifle, but send the soldier who does to the correct location, he capitulated.
Within six months he had things running like a well-oiled machine. The deadwood was hewn away, and the best of the best hired. John had succeeded and the business flourished. I was not really needed, but I continued to work. I needed a reason to get out of bed everyday.
In spite of my lack of experience and aptitude, I did learn the inner-workings of my company, though I hardly needed to. I can't remember a time I had to make a decision in the presence of a subordinate. For all appearances I was merely a lame duck or limp dick, which ever you prefer. John made things happen, so I didn't interfere.
In my first year after my parent's death, I was on my own, a totally new way of life, no nanny, no school and no direction. Left to my devices, I fell to despair. Like my mother, alcohol became my drug of choice. I drank to remember, and I drank to forget. Jack on the rocks became my only true friend.
My friendship was a commodity others vied for, but Whisky Jack was the only one that asked nothing of me. I had little to do with the ass-kissers. Well the ladies, now that is a different story. Women threw themselves at my feet, so I gladly accepted the offer of their company.
Sex was all I ever saw in these women, they had their agenda's and I had mine. To them, I was a penis attached to a checkbook. To me, they were little more than whores to be used and cast aside. It was a rare woman indeed that could hold my attention for more than one night.
