A college degree might not ensure a good job, a stable life, or advancement in your career. But there’s one thing it undeniably leaves the students with - happy memories….ai, let’s cut the bullshit and get to the real world. Debts. Huge, unrepayable debts. That’s what three years in an ivy league leaves you with. And this reality hit Alex like a reversing tow truck when she opened the white envelope marked confidential.
‘75k!!!, you’ve got to be kidding me!’ Alex’s reaction was understated compared to the financial flux she really was in. 5 years ago, she had graduated from Caltech with a degree in applications engineering. Under normal circumstances, she would have gotten a top-level job at any top-level company.
But these weren’t normal times. The economy was crashing like an airplane with failed engines, and governments like pilots and co-pilots were shitting their pants to land it safely. The journalists like stewards and stewardesses were trying to calm the panicking public by offering refreshments and pep talks. But when your life’s at stake, a bowl of fresh orange sorbet offers no comfort.
In this crashing economy, Alex stood no chance for a job. Fortunately, she had inherited a grocery store from her aunt, and would earn barely enough money each month, from it, for her expenses. But not for long. Alex knew the store was holding on by teeth and bones, and that she’d have to shut it down any day. How was she to survive when big companies, multinationals, corporates were falling like blocks of dominoes. Every 2 minutes, a new firm would declare itself bankrupt. Fast food chains that had captured the international market were shutting down. Homes were being vacated every day and new tents arose on the roadside like anthills.
Doctors held their scalpels on the necks of passerbys’ in the street, asking for money. Teachers tore up pages from textbooks to pack white opioid powders and sell them for whatever cash they could get. And mothers sent their children to hazardous factories to either die of hunger, or by the machine. People were killing and dying, all for a piece of green paper. And Michael Jackson…well, he was looking for a sugarbaby.
‘Frank, the last woman you sent in was atrocious’, Michael snapped and
Frank looked up from his desk
‘Um, lower your voice Michael, your employees might hear you’
‘So? Is that a problem?’… ‘Does anyone here have a problem with me having a sugarbaby?’, He asked loud enough for the whole floor to hear.
Everyone looked up from their cubicles, numb and stark-eyed
‘Did you not hear me’ He said, louder this time ‘Does anyone here have a problem with me having a sugarbaby?’ he iterated each word heavily
‘No Sir’, ‘Not at all Sir’, ‘Absolutely no sir’, came a sea of muffled, soft, scared replies
‘See’, Michael turned to Frank cockily ‘they don’t seem to mind’
Frank shook his head in disappointment. He’d known Michael since a he was young boy. At 19, Michael had left his father’s company to start his own. Frank, who had been Joseph estate’s financial advisor for 15 years, knew Michael and the potential he had. He’d trained Michael since he was a young chap in grad school, coming to the company for professional exposure. And he knew from the beginning that Michael was destined for greatness.
It was not just because of his financial brilliance. Michael had a confidence, an aura that reflected from his hypnotizingly deep brown eyes. He could tell you anything with conviction and you’d believe it. And frank had witnessed it happening over and over again for years. From ruthless lawyers to dainty women, in 5 minutes, Michael would have everyone swooning over him, and he would then control them like puppets.
