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The motor is on idle
The motor is on idle
It was one of those wonderful Saturday afternoons. The sun was shining and the day warm. Just the ideal time to sit on the patio with a friend and drink some rather excellent chilled Chardonnay. Anthony answered the call, brought his usual Blue Ridge Chardonnay with copious quantities of different cheeses and water crackers. A splendid entree to enjoy each other's company.
Straw coloured Chardonnay flowed, as did our tongues while we solved the worlds' problems in the space of a few hours. In a moment of reverie, Anthony asked me where I was going with my work.
'Work?' I queried as I took another sip of Chardonnay. 'Work?’
‘Yes, that four lettered word you always avoid using.’
‘You know me Anthony. I love idleness. I love to get busy with little things that don’t matter. I might start a dozen projects and never finish any of them. I come and go according to my moods and change my mind at a moment’s notice.
Sometimes I just watch a fly buzzing around or pick up a rock and discover what’s under it. Other times I’ll begin a project that might take a decade’s effort to finish only to give up after ten minutes. In short, I love to waste away my whole day and follow nothing but the whim of the moment.'
Anthony looked at me with feigned shock.
'My position is that others, like myself, should work hard and put aside sufficient funds during my working life, which when wisely invested would provide for my own retirement. Age pensions are an abomination to me. They provide a false hope to the working class who believe that they have the right to be supported in their dotage by our government when they have made no proper provision for their own upkeep.'
Anthony wiped the sweat off his brow with an exaggerated movement to emphasise his point. He looked at me to indicate that he had not run out of steam. I braced myself.
'I support materialism, capitalism, endeavour and growth.'
Anthony sipped his Chardonnay, then looked up at me.
'I believe that personal wealth is a great character attribute and one that is available to all - if you are prepared to work for it!'
Anthony raised his glass in a salute.
‘Here’s to capitalism and all the joy it brings.’
Anthony tossed a drink down his neck and poured himself another glass.
'Anthony,' I said with concern. 'Think through this very carefully. The ambitious man exerts a huge amount of effort struggling up the hill of success. He deftly pushes aside his rivals and after a few years can see the end of his journey.'
Anthony was about to interrupt me but I made a quick movement to hush him. This was only a commercial break and not time for his rebuttal. I put some Jarlsberg cheese on a water cracker, ate it and washed it down with a sip of wine. I was ready.
'But when he reaches the top of the hill, Anthony, he discovers that a much higher mountain lies beyond his meagre hill. Indeed, the hill he has spent so much time and effort climbing is diminished to the point of insignificance by the mountain. With such a sober realisation his journey must continue on to his retirement and perversely, idleness.'
A look of horror passed over Anthony's face.
'What sort of idiocy is that?' he demanded.