The flyer read: “Do you have more money than you know what to do with? For a limited time only, Chic Inc. offers the ultimate status symbol: buy the time of somebody who is guaranteed to do absolutely nothing for you. Rates start from $250/hour. Ask about our line of non-existent merchandise! Student discounts available on request.” At the bottom was a phone number.
I thought it was an interesting concept, but didn’t think I could afford it (even with a generous student discount), so I let it pass. A few months later, the radio advertisements started, but they didn’t tempt me. A few months after that, I began seeing television ads: plain white text on a black background with a tasteful classical string accompaniment. This ad also contained Chic Inc.’s World Wide Web address. When I saw that, I thought to myself: “Hmm…this could be worth checking out…”
Chic Inc.’s offices were in the commercial heart of the city. When I arrived for my appointment with the founder, Melvin Smith, there were still boxes all over the place, as if the company were still in the process of moving in.
“I’m sorry,” the secretary at the front desk said into a phone, which didn’t stop ringing all the time I was there, “but Mister Smith is booked solid for the next four months — no, no, I’m sorry, but he couldn’t possibly do nothing for you at the same time as he was doing nothing for another client — that would be unethical! Would you care to speak to one of Mister Smith’s associates? I understand. Well, then, let me get out my datebook and see when he is next available…”
She pointed me in the direction of an office down the hall before returning to the phone.
Melvin Smith was a non-descript, middle-aged man in a conservative suit. His corner office was tasteful, but nice. “What can I do for you?” he asked.
“I can’t believe anybody could make money selling…well, nothing.”
Mister Smith smiled. “I understand the sentiment, but there we are. Li Ka-Shing has this morning booked. This afternoon belongs to the Bronfman family. Tomorrow, Conrad Black has bought an hour — just the basic package for a single hour, cheap bastard.”
“I’m sorry — are you working now?”
“Strictly speaking, yes, but don’t worry about it. Li bought the Deluxe Package — not only am I forbidden to do anything for him, but I am encouraged to do other work to ensure that I don’t have time to do anything for him. As long as the other work is actual work, and not doing nothing for somebody else, you understand. The Deluxe Package is a good deal, by the way — it comes with the guarantee that if word ever leaks to the press, Chic Inc. will deny that you are customer. Destroy all our files on you, if need be. Say what you will about immigrants, but they sure know how to spend money!”
I shook my head. “I don’t get it,” I said. “Why would anybody pay outrageous sums of money for your…err, non-service?”
Mister Smith smiled indulgently. “If our fees weren’t outrageous, our clients wouldn’t take our service seriously,” he told me. “Listen, I was an accountant for 20 years, and I couldn’t help but notice that really rich people spent increasingly outrageous sums of money for trinkets and baubles with increasingly less and less intrinsic value. A handkerchief once used by Jacqueline Kennedy. A fake Dali drawing. A spittoon which had been in a bar frequented by Ernest Hemingway. Chic Inc. struck me as the perfect end result of this process: paying somebody to do nothing for you — could there be a greater status symbol?”
“I find the idea intriguing,” I admitted, “but I’m afraid your prices are a bit out of my range…”
“Not to worry. In the next couple of years, Chic Inc. will be opening a number of franchise operations in shopping malls across the country.” I must have looked surprised, because Mister Smith hastily explained: “Why should the wealthy be the only ones to benefit from this remarkable service? There are a lot of middle class — even working class people who want the status of being able to throw money away on nothing, but who don’t have the money to throw away. Should they suffer? Of course, the service wouldn’t be quite the same — a franchise customer may have to accept some trivial benefit for his money.
“After all,” Mister Smith smiled expansively, “you get what you pay for.”