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I was born and raised in a traditional American middle-class family, which meant that we lived in a nice, average house, drove reasonable, well-kept cars, and bought clothes when the old ones were either worn out or too small. My mom and dad raised us to be grateful for what we had and understanding that our way of life would be considered more lucrative in other places (including many parts of our own country). We did not summer in Europe or wear trendy brand names, but my parents always put food on the table and clothes on our backs.

I attended public schools and had an excellent learning experience. There were the usual cliques and groups at my high school, but everybody seemed to get along well enough. If one person refused to acknowledge another, it was not a question of social status: we were all on the same general plane. It just meant the former was either an arrogant jerk or had seen too many “teen angst” movies where the popular kids didn’t speak to the nerds.

I bring this up not as biographical information (although it serves that purpose, so… you’re welcome), but to illustrate the point that I was raised to believe I can be successful in life – even though I do not have certain social advantages. In other words, I was not born rich or in a prominent family. In the United States of America you don’t need either of those things to succeed.

To a point this is true. In America, and many other parts of the world, a person can choose the path of their life with a little bit of luck and a great deal of effort. A street-corner pauper might be a board-room millionaire given the right opportunity. This is one of the great things about Western civilization: free and open economy. Old World concepts like landed gentry and caste systems are nonexistent.

That’s a nice concept; but unfortunately, a bit naïve. I recently had the opportunity to observe our societal divisions at close range, and found it a bit startling.

I would like to say I had taken the time to explain the whole economic freedom/open society thing to some of the upper crust luminaries I encountered in Sun Valley, Idaho. I didn’t, of course, but I would like to say that I had. Not that they would listen to someone from the bourgeoisie, but it would have made me feel better.

For those who may not know, Sun Valley, Idaho is a winter playground for the rich and famous. I always personally associate it with Ernest Hemingway, who helped put it on the map, so to speak. There is a ski lodge and a town full of overpriced brand name stores. The streets are lined with BMWs and Cadillac Escalades, and the sidewalks are populated with Baby Boomers wearing North Face jackets. My $15.00 pants and $9.00 shirt from Wal-Mart didn’t exactly blend in.

My wife and I went with my mom and dad, who were there to attend a business conference. The how and why we were there isn’t necessarily important, just that it was where the conference was taking place, and we built a vacation around it.

Because this destination caters to the wealthy (and because I, too, have been influenced by movies) I expected the shopkeepers and workers to be unbearably snotty; sort of like the scene in “Pretty Woman” where Julia “Prostitute” Roberts tries to buy some clothes in an uppity Beverly Hills place. In fact, it was just the opposite. Every single person at work – food servers, clerks, hotel staff – was friendly, helpful, and professional. We even wandered in some fairly pricey places to look around, but there were no cross glances or upturned noses. It was great.

In contrast, the well-moneyed people were brusque, demanding, and short-tempered. They were not satisfied with any level of service, and apt to snap at the slightest delay in their gratification. In fairness, I am very certain some of the rich people in Sun Valley did not behave in this fashion. I believe that because I happen to know some wonderful, kind, and down-to-earth rich people. But some people just love being rich; they seem to get a kick out of watching people scurry about to satisfy their every whim – and are rude and demanding, even when the people around them are very accommodating.

It occurred to me that I was observing a sort of symbiotic relationship. The workers provide the high-level of service and indulgence that the rich people need, and the rich people provide the demands that motivate the workers. The money is secondary to the relationship, because there is no question whether the rich people will pay. They will spend, and well. That is the catalyst that entitles them to make demands.

That is a vastly different experience from my usual shopping forays. I can just imagine going to my local Wal-Mart (where I bought my clothes) and presenting any demand, with absolutely zero gratitude or courtesy, and have the employees fight over the opportunity to accommodate. The very thought makes me laugh out loud. Most of my experiences shopping with the “regular people” have involved disinterested, unmotivated employees and me not caring about it much, beyond a vague irritation. I think if my rich friends in Sun Valley were somehow obliged to do all their business where I shop, they would probably choke on their foie gras.

I don’t think this means we should overhaul any of our free economic systems, and we certainly have bigger problems than rich people acting like arrogant snots. But our permissiveness and acceptance of people wielding their wealth like a club can’t possibly be a good thing. We complain about wealthy celebrities getting preferential treatment and professional athletes being overpaid. But we watch their movies, buy their CDs, attend their sporting events, and ask them for autographs.

We have established a culture where a person’s relative value is most easily assessed by how much material wealth he or she is able to accumulate. This seems backward when presented in that fashion – and I can’t imagine anyone actually thinking it is a good thing (aside from the snobbiest of the elitist rich, of course). But perhaps this is just the nature of our species: that our noteworthy or notorious people are conquerors in their many forms. We are simply measuring success, in other words, and money is the measuring stick of our times.

Ultimately, our free trade society draws caste lines just like any other culture. In Western culture a person can easily cross from one group to another, depending on their opportunities, but the lines are still there. What is the fundamental difference between a feudal landowner and the primary stockholder in a mega-conglomerate company? Not very much, aside from the swordfights and castle sieges, of course.

The biggest difference, I suppose, is that our system is supposed to blur and erase societal lines, because everyone has the same voice. Unfortunately, the privilege of wealth leads people to forget certain things like courtesy for their fellow citizens and responsibility for their own actions. That’s where the legal system comes into this mess, and I don’t have the energy or desire to continue on that subject.

I guess there is no clear moral to this story, other than suggesting we don’t assign so much value to material wealth. That way, we could avoid some of the problems that come from our delusions of entitlement. Also, we should encourage those fortunate few who become wealthy to avoid turning into arrogant rich people. But I think we already knew that.

[[author_nate]]