I gaze in wonder – and partial disgust – at rich folk.
I’m not talking about people who can afford a couple of holidays abroad every year and have a few grand going spare in their bank account.
I’m talking about the mega rich – the gazillionaires who have more money under their mattress than some quite well off countries have in their bank vaults.
Despite their wealth they still crave more. The only thing that limits their fortune is their mortality – human lifespans can be quite frustrating when you only just join the trillionaire club in your mid 70s.
There’s a line in Jack Nicholson flick Chinatown, when the detective asks the millionaire how much he’s worth and then goes onto question why he would ever need more.
“How much better can you eat? What can you buy that you can’t already afford?”
My theory is we all have a greed gene, but it takes different forms in each of us.
I’m greedy – anyone daft enough to leave me alone for five minutes with a family bag of crisps will attest to that.
When it comes to accumulating funds, however, I’m somewhat lacking.
I’m no wheeler dealer – if I’ve got some cash that’s good, but I don’t go out of my way to grab more.
Some folk do though and they can turn the cultivation of money into an art form.
They don’t even need to be too smart.
I met a guy once – a millionaire businessman, I believe – who had to have someone standing next to him to keep reminding him to breathe out after he breathed in.
But if you gave the guy a penny he could turn it into £1000 in half-an-hour.
Just a different mindset.