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| There was once a man in the land of Ont whose name was Mr. Job. And that man was a strong believer in Free Enterprise as the one and only true religion revealed by the God of Competition through his prophets who dwelled in various think-tanks and research institutions. There were born to this man sons and daughters who were all educated in the very exclusive private schools in which this true religion of Free Enterprise was, in one way or another, instilled in their young minds with all the persuasiveness money can buy. By all accounts Mr. Job was a prosperous man. Besides the substantial portfolio of stock and bonds he owned an expensive house in a fashionable part of the town and a big, comfortable cottage in the country. He employed a cook and housemaid. Each member of his family who was old enough to drive had a car of the latest model. It was customary for Mr. and Mrs. Job to spend most of their leisure time going to numerous parties given by their friends and acquaintances, all of whom were as well off as they or they would entertain them at their own place. But no matter how late these parties went on, Mr. Job would rise early in the morning to read the business section of his favourite paper, The Get and Gain, always rejoicing in finding in its pages complete and unreserved justification and approval of his way of life and the strongest possible support for his faith - Free Enterprise. And then during the day and later at the parties he would never miss the opportunity to proclaim this faith to be the only true religion governing the whole world and to reassure those who began to express the slightest doubt about it. Now, the God of Competition occupied the penthouse of the temple of Free Enterprise which was the tallest building in the land. And he spent his time, which he had plenty of (eternity to be precise) watching each and everyone below. And those who worshipped him faithfully he would reward (sometimes) with all kinds of worldly goodies, but those who didn't were cursed all the time. The God of Competition was always surrounded by the angels of Success, Power and Wealth who paid homage to him day and night and he enjoyed their devotion very much. One angel, however, the angel of Failure was never welcomed at the God's penthouse. The ever present threat that he may get in and spoil all the fun scared its inhabitants so much that the God of Competition sent him down into the bottomless pit - the basement where all unsuccessful, powerless and poor suffered in endless misery. Even his name was not allowed to be mentioned, for it immediately put everybody in the penthouse, including God, in a very depressing mood. Needless to say the angel of Failure deeply resented banishment from the dwelling of the God of Competition for he felt that he rightfully belong there, failing being just the other side of succeeding. Becoming now an outcast himself he began to commiserate with the others languishing in the basement of misery. And so one day he pleaded with God to let them out of it. But the God of Competition was a stern and vengeful god and not accustomed to changing his mind. "The reason they are in the basement", said God, "is because they didn't worship Me. For those who did have prospered and live now on the upper floors as anybody can see." "Sorry, God", retorted the angel of Failure, "but I will have to open your eyes. You have it all upside down. It is precisely because they are well off that they worship you and not the other way around." "I don't believe you, you miserable devil," thundered the outraged God. "Well", replied the angel of Failure calmly, "if you allow me to strip any one of your devoted worshippers of all his possessions and to throw him into the basement of endless misery, rest assured, he will quickly stop singing praises and start cursing you." "Well", said the God, "I still don't believe you. But if you insist, let's use Mr. Job. Few are as devoted to me as he is. And, as a result few are as prosperous. But he would never betray me, even if he lost everything." "I take it I have your permission to test his faith?" inquired the angel of Failure. "Yes, you can do that," were God's final words. The next day Mr. Job, quite unexpectedly, was told that his services were not longer needed at the prestigious law firm where he'd worked for years. The day after, several companies he'd heavily invested in suddenly declared bankruptcy and he lost all his money. Then the unpaid bills started piling up. Unable to pay their salaries any more he had to let the cook and maidservant go. On the top of everything else, he was told by his wife that unbeknownst to him several of their children had developed drug addictions and she had to periodically bail them out of heavy debts to the drug dealers, but now that the money was gone, she was desperately afraid for their safety. In a short while Mr. Job was in complete financial ruin. Selling first his cottage and very soon after the house to pay at least some of the outstanding debts, he moved alone (for by this time his wife had already left him) into an apartment in the poor section of the town. Like many of his new neighbours he eventually went on welfare, began to use a Food Bank, wore clothes donated to the Salvation Army and occasionally bought a lottery ticket in hopes to win some extra cash. But even when he didn't have enough money for food, Mr. Job would still buy his beloved The Get and Gain and read its Report on Business with the same devotion as before. Being a sociable man he soon acquired new acquaintances, all as poor as he was by now, and quite often got into heated arguments when, trying to convert them into the religion of Free Enterprise, would be faced with their refusal (obviously caused by the lack of true knowledge on their part) to join him in worshipping the God of Competition. Sometimes frustrated by their unreasonableness and driven by nostalgia for the good old days when he was a successful man and everybody around would enthusiastically share his faith, Mr. Job would go to the financial district of the City especially during the lunch time to have the opportunity to "incidently" run into his former colleagues. Most of them tried to avoid him but those who couldn't had no choice but to stop and listen to the story of his misfortunes which he would always finish with bitter complaints about the injustice of all that befallen him. "Hadn't I worshipped the God of Competition with all my heart and mind? Didn't I conform diligently to each and every precept of the one and only true religion of Free Enterprise? So, why was I punished so cruelly? Why has everything been taken from me?" But none of his comfortable listeners had (not surprisingly) any sympathy for him. "You must have done something wrong," they would reproach him. "It must be your own fault, for the God of Competition is a fair god. He gives to those who follow faithfully His commandments and takes from the ones who don't". "But I did, I really did", protested Mr. Job. "And yet, I'm ruined." "You may be thinking that you did, but you clearly didn't, for otherwise you wouldn't have gotten into the terrible situation you are in now. We can't tell you exactly what you have done wrong, because the God of Competition is a mysterious god and it is not given to mortal men to always understand His ways and designs. But one thing we can tell you for sure: if you have failed it must be your own fault. This is the law of Free Enterprise, the rest is just commentary." And so it went on and on. Mr. Job would complain and profess his innocence and his still prosperous former colleagues would invariably condemn him for some undetermined transgressions against the God of Competition and the Religion of Free Enterprise. Meanwhile his life wasn't getting any better. Soon he could no longer afford to live in an apartment and had to move into a rooming house. The place was old, dirty and completely run down. His new neighbours were even less responsive to his preaching than the old ones, and his welfare cheque lasted less and less. But in all his misfortunes he not even once insulted the God of Competition and was as strong, if not a stronger believer in Free Enterprise as before and always ready to defend it against sceptical or hostile unbelievers. And the only thing that bothered him and kept him awake at night (besides an occasional cockroach scurrying across his face or the sound of a mouse gnawing at the kitchen closet - both being quite common to the area) was the unexplainable injustice of his fate. Then once again the God of Competition called the angel of Failure. "So, what about My loyal servant Mr. Job?" he said triumphantly. "Wasn't I right? Despite all the pain and suffering he has been through he is as faithful to me as always. I wish there were more like him amongst all these poor wretches, these welfare bums, these blind fools who refuse to see the eternal truth of Free Enterprise and worship Me, the God of Competition, their only salvation. And for this insubordination I will continue to punish not only them but their children and their children's children for generations to come." "Hold on, God!" replied the angel of Failure. "Don't be so sure. You only took away his wealth and many men can survive that. But try to take his health as well, turn his life into one endless physical torture and he will surely curse you." "Very well," said God. "Do this and let's see who is right." Soon after that Mr. Job's health started deteriorating precipitously. The life of continuous disasters and ever increasing deprivation was taking its toll. He began to develop all kinds of diseases he didn't know even existed and spent more and more time in hospital. But now that he was a poor man, living "on the wrong side of the track" he was treated by doctors and hospital staff accordingly. Some of them openly despised his old clothes from the Salvation Army and his shabby, haggard appearance. The treatment he was receiving wasn't adequate and he was getting progressively sicker and sicker. By now he was going out less and less and though he would still argue about the superior virtues of Free Enterprise with his roommates, the energy and zeal was clearly not there anymore. Then he disappeared altogether. Nobody knew exactly what happened to him but there were some persistent though conflicting rumours going on around. According to one version, favoured mostly by his former prosperous colleagues, he suddenly won ten million dollars in a lottery. With this newly found wealth Mr. Job got his house back and hired again a cook and a housemaid. Now that he was rich and comfortable once more his health visibly improved. He resumed the morning readings of The Get and Gain with even greater enthusiasm than before. Full of energy Mr. Job wrote a book describing how despite all the terrible things that happened to him, he never lost his faith in Free Enterprise and kept worshipping the God of Competition and finally was rewarded for it. The book became an instant best seller. He married again a woman thirty years his junior and had several new sons and daughters who all went to the same exclusive private schools as the children from his first marriage. He and his old friends (they all came back after he became rich and famous again) attributed, of course, all this to his unbroken faith in the religion of Free Enterprise and to a special favour the God of Competition granted to Mr. Job for his unparalleled devotion to Him. The second version circulated among the inhabitants of the rundown part of the town where Mr. Job lived before his disappearance, was quite a different one. According to it, some of his roommates after not seeing him for several days and noticing the bad smell coming out of his room broke down the door and found him dead in his bed. The police were called, the body had been taken away and whether it was buried at the municipal cemetery, donated to medical school or cremated, nobody knew. Every now and then his name would be mentioned among the tenants of the rooming house he used to live in and everybody would get a laugh remembering the old and sick man, who had next to nothing, worshipping the God of Competition and fervently defending the religion of Free Enterprise which obviously didn't do him any good. Now, which one of these two conflicting versions this or that particular reader will find more realistic, I suspect would depend on his own situation. And that, I suppose, whether we like it or not, is the way of the world, and each side will only waste time trying to convince the other one otherwise. |
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