First, this title clearly identifies how very not-American I remain, despite being in this country for almost a decade. The proper American version of this would be: On the things I will do when I am rich.
And good luck to you all in this endevour.
Unlike every American, who is just one great idea, one appearance on reality TV, or just a lucky break away from their first million, all I have are daydreams of how I would spend my money.
Obviously, curing cancer and solving world peace come first. But the real hard work comes in figuring out what you do after that.
First, I would hire a dental hygienist to clean my teeth properly once a week (I haven’t thought this through, but I’d probably have a highly trained monkey with an electric toothbrush do it the rest of the week). I love the way my teeth feel after a proper dental clean – like a long-awaited shower after a day in a hot, claustrophobic, packed gym in the middle of Texas, in the middle of summer, in the second month of >100F heat. But for my teeth.
Second, I’d have an iTunes Playlist Manager. He or she would be tasked to accompany me everywhere I listen to my music. And when I hear a song I don’t like, I can say: “Take that off my iPhone please” and if something I like comes on, I can say: “Could you add that to my Cool 80s Songs By Men Who Used to Be in Great Bands But Who Are Now Dead playlist?” “How many stars does that have? Change it to FOUR stars!” Yup, I would be that rich.
I would have someone to pack for me, obviously, but more than that – I would have someone who packed up everything for when I wanted to move houses. And then unpack at the other end. Moving house is one of life’s most hellish everyday experiences and the less I have to be involved in it, the better.
Have you ever backed up photographs? It is boring and repetitive, and needs someone who likes to do boring and repetitive things. And has plenty of time. Uploading the millions of pictures of my dog to Flickr to make sure they can never be lost to history is important work, but it takes more time than I have spare to do it right. Just making sure they’re accurately tagged could take some cheap teenage intern months. But it’s important, culturally significant work. And I’d happily pay someone else to do it.
Someone with military or at least Hollywood-bodyguard training would be required to keep a watch on our kitchen and bathrooms…at the earliest sign of tiny, creepy, disgusting little bug-shaped intruders, they would act with what I believe is universally referred to as “maximum prejudice”. If I am stinking rich, then I never need to see an insect in my home ever again. Mike, ex-SAS, should take care of that.
I don’t need to mention that I’d buy a golf cart, right? Wouldn’t we all rather drive around in golf carts? Short of being part of a real Mario Kart race, living life behind the wheel of a golf cart looks like the most fun thing a person can have sitting down. I love golf carts so much, I’d seriously consider pretending to take up golf just to get ready access to the zippy little electric people carts.
And, obviously, I’d need a golf cart to get me from one wing of my palatial homestead to the other. But the main reason I’d have a golf cart isn’t for me at all – it’s for The Rev. Along with a golf cart, I’d hire a driver to keep that thing moving all day long so my little grumbler could chase it to his heart’s content. The repair guys at our apartment complex dash around in golf carts and John Henry nearly throttles himself in his desire to race after them. When I start cashing million dollar checks, he gets a golf cart of his own to chase after.