Essays

The Millionaires
By John Guy

At a marina somewhere south, former stock broker Jack Chap joined J.P. Morgan on J.P's 56-foot Morgan Rico. It must have been a bad day for J.P.

“I tell you Jack,” said J.P., “this boat will eat you alive. My annual expenses are at least $125,000. This marina wants more than $800 a month, plus electricity. And everyone wants a bit of me, like that Manuel, the dock worker, always trying to get a bit more out of me, and out of you. And my stock broker. I called him last night, around 10, and he would not take the call. I know my account is small, less than $5 million, but he could at least take my calls, after all these years. I've been loyal to the guy.”

Next day, they went out to dinner. J.P. bought them a bottle of wine for $20. “Jack, even this meal is expensive. Look, my bill for this food, if you call it that, is going to be at least $25, yours probably the same. But what really irks me today, and I mentioned it to you last night, are these dock workers. What do you pay Manuel, by the way?”

“Around $4.00 an hour.”

“Ahh, you are the one! I've been loyal to Manuel. I promised him several months of guaranteed business, and you know what he did. He said that you asked him to wash your boat, and he left mine undone until tomorrow. But the bigger problem is that you are paying him too much. Everyone else here pays around $2.75 an hour, but then you come along, a stranger to the marina, and you accept whatever he asks, taking him away from me and raising the general level of expenses for all of us. We had a pretty solid agreement to stop that, over in Puerta La Cruz, I think it was, but every once in a while some innocent neophyte, like yourself, would come in, pay more, and cause problems for the rest of us. Damn it Jack. Look what you have done!”

At this point, Jack was not counting on a long-term friendship with J.P., but he only commented: “Well, J.P., I've gotten to know Manuel pretty well. His work is fine, and cruisers like him. Of his sixty years, he has worked here almost thirty. But he lives day to day, without benefits, except some minor government programs, and there were a couple of times I had to advance him a few pesos just so he could get over here to work. At the rate that you say is the going rate, he takes home $23 per day, for him and his wife. Most weeks he works six days, some seven, but occasionally no work is available from the cruisers. So, I give him a little more.”

“Cut it out, will you Jack,” said J.P. “These people are just out to get us for all we've got, as though our vaults were filled with gold. You just want to be sure he works for you instead of me, right? I've got to get things done here too, you know. Hey, want another bottle of wine?”

The next morning, about 5 a.m., Manuel came by, knocked on Jack's boat, and said he had to get someone else to do Jack's boat, and he was going to try to make special arrangements for J.P. and others he promised to help, but could not for a day or two. Jack asked what was going on. Manuel said, “my Mother died last night. I've got to go the funeral. It is in my pueblo, a couple of hours from here. Jack, can you advance me some bus fare?”