Modish Living

Words of the Week 02.25

The Chief Executive Officer of the embattled National Energy Corporation sat in his car in the sun-baked grounds of their head office at Stadial Park, arguing with his wife on the phone.
“Darling I’m sorry.”
“You said you didn’t have to go into work this morning.”
“Yes, but—.”
“You promised.”
“I know, but darling, it an emerg—.”
She hung up. Marc let his head tip back onto the seat. It was an emergency. But then everyday was a new emergency.
He tried some of those mindfulness breathing exercises his doctor had been banging on about, absently tracking the staff as they crossed the car park and entered the building.
It was the handbags caught his eye. Like that salmon-pink leather one, embossed with the interlocked double-g of Gucci, Jane had bought one just like it last week. And over there, one of the debtors clerks was swinging a quilted leather Chanel bag by its gold chain like a child’s toy. Why do all these brands look so similar? He wondered. And then, how are people on government salaries affording such modish apparel?

He asked his personal assistant to show him her bag later that morning. It was Dior, and to his eye pretty much indistinguishable from those he had seen that morning. “Is it worth the money?” he asked her.
“Sir,” she answered in an exasperated voice. “A girl has to stay in mode!”

Late that night – Jane was probably going to divorce him – he discovered his answer in the thick reams of investigative accounting. Kick-backs and bribery. Is there anyone in this place not stealing? He took a sip of his coffee, barely noticing the strangely astringent taste.

Two days later the newspapers ran the headlines:
National Energy Corporation CEO POISONED!
How will we keep the lights on now?