Billionaires
I have a simple thought experiment. Yes, I know it's borrowed from cinema, but the films it has been borrowed from both tack on a happy ending that misses, to my mind, the critical point.
Billionaires are by definition greedy assholes.¹
But do you have proof!?
It's not proof, as such. It's a thought experiment; more an invitation to analysis than a formal proof of any kind.
So how does this work?
Well, OK, this is where it gets cinematic. If you've ever seen either of the movies Brewster's Million or Brewster's Millions you've got the gist of it already. All I'm doing is stripping away the story-telling shenanigans and the gratuitous happy ending. So...
I'm going to give you a million dollars.
Wow! Thanks!
Not literally. Thought. Experiment. Pretend I've given you a million dollars.
OK... Thanks. I guess.
Now the thing is you have to spend it all today. And all on yourself. Buy your heart's desire. As long as you spend every cent of that million dollars today.
OK! That's easy! I'm going to buy...
...a car, a house, a nice collection of outfits and a wardrobe to put it in, right? Plus all the high quality equipment you've longed for in your hobby. And, Hell, why not?, you're going to throw a massive “all my friends are invited” party.
Was I close?
...well, maybe.
Good. You've spent your million. Anybody who has any imagination at all can spend their million in no time flat. There's a place tucked away in most people's head where they dream of what they'd do with a million dollars (or equivalent local currency).
So ... next day rolls around. You're enjoying the things you bought (though things like the house you're having built may take a while to actually live in—you can enjoy the visions in your head in the mean time). I come up to you again. And I give you another million dollars.
You what now?
You heard me. You have another million dollars. You have to spend it today.
What happens if I don't?
You don't want to know. Imagine the worst thing that could ever befall you. That's what I'll do to you.
Well, luckily I've got loads of stuff I want to buy!
We usually do. So day two is over. You've spent two million dollars in two days. And next day I'm there, like bad breath after a night of drinking. And you've got another million dollars.
...
And another the day after that. And the day after that. And the day after that. And the day after that.
... That's a lot ...
And the day after that. And the day after that. And the day after that.
...
...
How many days could you keep this up? Spending a million dollars a day? Seven days? A month if you're really good at this? How long will it take for you to have enough? How long before spending a million dollars a day becomes more a chore than a joy? How long until you get so overrun with things that your life feels joyless and empty? How many cars do you need to own? How many houses? How much clothing? How many fine wines, cigars, teas, or whatever else you fancy? How long until it's ENOUGH for you?
Honestly I don't think I'd last more than two weeks before I was set for life!
Right. Most normal people wouldn't know what to do past a month at the outside. (That's what the movie Brewster's Millions was about, after all: Brewster had no idea what to do after a while with 30 million dollars that had to be spent in 30 days.)
But ... tough.
Because you keep getting a million dollars a day. You have to spend that million dollars each and every day or the worst thing you can think of happening to you happens.
Day after day after day I come to your door, looming in the threshold, giving you a million dollars. Day after day after day you have to buy a million dollars of things, spent only on yourself.
There's no respite. There's no end. Your daily chore, your entire existence, is finding ways to spend a million dollars on yourself. And this goes on for almost two years and nine months. (Two years and 270 days, to be more precise.) Then, finally, it mercifully stops.
Because you've finally spent one billion dollars, one million dollars at a time daily.
... What, really?!
Yes. Really. To spend a billion dollars at a ludicrous rate of a million dollars per day you'd need close to three years. And this is assuming you're not somehow making money in that time. That you're just spending that one billion.
After 2.75 years—almost three years—you've been likely driven to near-madness (or perhaps even been driven over the brink) by the burden of just spending that money.
Yeah ... that's ...
And a billionaire is a person for whom that amount of money isn't enough.
¹ Hot take, I know. Very radical.