The Confusions of the Young Millionaire

Maximilian Brett was a very important person, very important indeed. Thanks to a great inheritance and a series of good decisions, he had managed to become a millionaire at a relatively young age.

On that spring afternoon, he was walking to a meeting to discuss possibly investing in a startup. Why was he walking? Because he could. Because he cared about his health. Because he wasn’t like all those sheep, spending the day lodged inside their warm cars. Maximilian knew that those people would never become millionaires. They were too comfortable, too small-minded to succeed the way he did.

He loved to think of himself as a self-made man, but often, that image would get interrupted by the memory of his inheritance. Oh, how he hated that thing! It would be better, he thought, if he started out with nothing, if he was perhaps born in one of those no-name African countries—no, Africa was too far, maybe one of the Soviet ones. Perhaps Czechoslovakia, yes, that would do.

His pace quickened as he indulged himself in that thought. He immersed himself in the image of him in war-torn Czechoslovakia, starting out with absolutely nothing, but then, through sheer grit and determination, becoming the great man he is today. This scenario never happened, but he was sure it could have. If only he had been born in the distant lands of Europe… Greatness was his destiny, but unfortunately, his family was so rich that it wasn’t immediately obvious.

As he was walking, he passed a glasses shop. Still moving, he quickly glanced in through the shop window and spotted a pair of black cat-eye sunglasses with silvery temples. He congratulated himself on being able to notice and identify them so quickly, despite walking by so fast. His perception was immaculate, partly due to the mental exercises he did every morning and partly due to his young age.

This was his peak, that was for sure. He was at that specific age where peak strength and mental ability and the peaks of everything else important intercepted in one brief moment of time. And on top of that, he was already a millionaire. This was the peak of the human experience; life couldn’t get any better than this. It was all downhill from here. This thought fueled him with excitement, as if he was on top of a rollercoaster.

He walked into the building, and a couple of minutes later, he was with the CEO in his office. The man was slightly older than him, a bit past the peak, but he didn’t seem to mind that the best of human existence was behind him. He seemed cheerful, if somewhat nervous. He was wearing glasses that had the same shape as the ones Maximilian saw in the shop. He was proud of his ability to see something and then remember it in a different context—he considered it one of his greatest strengths.

The CEO smiled wide and started speaking with a pre-planned cadence.

“Here, at Apex Innovations, our one goal is to provide innovative solutions to problems of our digital age.”

Maximilian was still slightly distracted, looking at his glasses.

“We are always looking for new, modern ways to revolutionize and synergize the world around us, utilizing Big Data and AI technologies.”

He put great emphasis on the last two words, waiting for a reaction. Maximilian was still looking at his glasses, which he interpreted as warm eye contact. Excitedly, he continued.

Over the next half hour, Maximilian was shown many graphs and slogans, but he didn’t really register any of them. His mind was on one thing.

The glasses.

There was just something about them…

It was odd. He liked them a lot, but at the same time, they were irritating to look at. Like they had the potential to be great, but they could be even better. Pretty, but also ugly, at the same time. Like a purebred cat with a genetic disease. A distorted reflection of something much better. But what could it be?

The answer was so obvious, it made him feel stupid. They reminded him of the glasses in the shop!

Their image was still clear in his mind. Thin, yet sturdy. Black contrasting with smooth silver. On the street, he passed them without much thought, but as he remembered them in that moment, he realized they were absolutely beautiful, a gorgeous feat of craftsmanship. Surely, something so simple yet elegant must have taken ages to design. Why didn’t he stop and look?

This thought slightly distressed him. Why didn’t he stop and look? Because he was rushing to a business meeting? Was that it? What kind of simple-minded excuse is that? He was beginning to sweat.

“Maybe I am the real sheep after all,” he said under his breath, interrupting the CEO’s speech about their great customer’s journey. The CEO looked at him, confused, as to why the millionaire looked like he was about to burst into tears. Maximilian silently got up and left. He had to think some things through.

As he was outside the building, he had one thing on his mind: the glasses. He had to go buy the glasses.

Why did he want them? Because they were beautiful. He needed them. They called to him. He walked in the direction of the store he saw them. He walked past many stores. Electronics. Clothes for women. Flowers. Clothes for men. Jewelry. Antiques. Lots of restaurants, with people gorging themselves on high-fat treats. Accessories. More clothes, this time secondhand. And finally…
The glasses shop.

He pressed his face against the window. The glasses were still there, but oddly enough, they didn’t seem as charming as before. Maximilian was feeling an increasing sense of disgust as he realized how much he desired them. It made him feel pathetic. What kind of man was he, to let himself get controlled by the idea of a product so much? How was he any different from those people sitting in their cars, eating fast food all day?

He sat down on the sidewalk in despair. He was obviously so much better than them—so why did his mind make him behave as a typical sheep, a consumer, instead of a leader? He couldn’t go on like this. He was sick, sick with the illness of society.

Thinking of this phrase made him feel better, as it made him feel smart. Maybe he wasn’t lost to the sickness after all. All he needed was a cure.

Perhaps the great men of history could be an example to him. What fulfilled them?

He remembered some poetry he read a while ago by Goethe. He was quite famous, wasn’t he? The poetry itself quite bored him, because it was all about the beauty of nature and such. But maybe that was the answer. Not whatever objects he could buy, but Mother Earth. The original beauty.

He walked back to the flower shop he remembered seeing (another win for his skill of perception). He stared into the flowers, trying to understand their infinite beauty and wisdom. He looked deep into the plastic-packaged roses, wanting to experience their true beauty. Maximilian stared and stared, seeking the ecstatic joy that all the romantic poets felt during their nature walks. His gaze was intense, as he was trying to grow his soul and become a true Man of Nature.

After about fifteen minutes of this, he was terribly bored.

He looked at the flowers more, trying to convince himself that giving up was a sign of weakness, and at that rate, he would never become Goethe, but his will was faltering. He tried for a couple more minutes, but eventually, he realized his efforts were fruitless.

He walked out of the flower shop, disappointed. That was the second time that day he had left a building in an odd mood. Oh, how tragic! Here he was, a young man at his peak, yet the world kept denying him whatever it was he truly needed. The human world has failed him, with its close-mindedness and sheep mentality, yet the world of nature was refusing to reveal itself to him. Was there truly no sanctuary for his weary mind?

He pondered his situation. No, this couldn’t be the end of him. He realized that now was the time he would transform; this was The Ordeal of his hero’s journey, the dark hour, where he had to push through and become the best man he could be. Despite being beaten up by the cruel and uncaring universe, he had to get up and, by the power of his pure mental strength and determination, find a way out. But what could that be?

He pondered some more. Could it possibly be…

The glasses?

It seemed foolish, but maybe he had forsaken them too soon. Maybe he had misunderstood their true value. Maybe their appeal to him didn’t lie in their price tag or the potential feeling of owning something great, but the beauty of craftsmanship. Yes, the beauty of human craftsmanship.

He turned back and ran to the glasses shop. This had to be it, the answer to it all! Not the artificial systems of society, not silent and uncaring nature, but the beauty of the human genius! Oh, how could he have been so foolish, he knew the answer the whole time, yet he refused to listen to it! And now, he was going to have the solution in his hands, he was going to buy those glasses, no matter the price, and admire every nut and bolt, every bit of paint, that a skilled craftsman hand-made just for him.

He burst into the shop, looking for his True Answer.

He looked at the wall, where the glasses used to be displayed.

They were not there.

He looked around, panicking, his breathing quickening. He was noticed by the concerned seller.

“Excuse me, sir,” she asked, “what are you looking for?”

He dropped to his knees in front of the counter.

“The glasses...” he muttered.

“What glasses?” she asked. “We have lots of them here.”

He looked up at her desperately.

“Please.” He begged. “Cat-eye sunglasses. Silver temples. So shiny, so… perfect.” His breath was shaking.

“You mean...” the seller thought for a second. “Oh! Well, those have just sold out. But we have plenty of other sunglasses, if you want, sir.” she said with a smile.

Maximilian’s eye twitched.

He slowly raised his arms towards the sky, as if he was begging God for an answer. He stayed like that for a second, before suddenly, something in him shifted. Without a word, he got up, now with an unreadable expression.

“Thank you for your time,” he said coldly and left the shop.

Now, he finally knew the truth. There was no answer to life. All his attempts at finding it were simple hubris. Whatever false hope, whatever he would pick next, would once again disappoint him. He thought about what to do with this realization—he decided he would spend the rest of the day at home, eating pasta and watching movies.

Just another great day in the life of Maximilian Brett.