Death is a great leveller. By Charles Roberts

               

        

            “MacLaine, how long have you been with the company now?”

          “I was apprentice here sir, so that would be about forty four years.”

          “So you’re due for retirement next year?”

          “I am sir.”

          “When you started didn’t you have any ambition to go into management?”

          “The shop floor was good enough for my dad, then it was good enough for me.”

          “But the extra money you could have earned.”

          “I’m doing all right thank you sir.  Me and the wife have enough to live comfortably.  We have our own house, we get a new car every six years, we have a fortnight’s holiday every year.  Yes she works and that helps, but we’re happy, we don’t want for anything.”

          “But didn’t you think that you could have had more if you’d have gone into management.  A better house, a better car, better holidays and your wife not having to work.”

          “There is that to it sir, but the way I see it, and this was my dad’s view as well, is that you can’t take it with you.”

          “What do you mean?”

          “I mean that come into this word with nothing and you leave it with nothing.”

          “Sorry, but I came into this world with this company and all its trimmings.”

          “No sir. Begging your pardon, but you only came into this company when your father died.   You only inherited the house and money when your mother died.  Yes you might have had an annual allowance, but in reality you had nothing.  No company, no house, and if your parents had wished, no money either.  Everything I have I have had to work for, whereas you were gifted everything.  All right you have expanded the company, but before that it was just the same company your father left you.”

          “I may not have had the company or the house, but I knew that one day they would all be mine.”

          “And what happens when you die sir?  You’ll be the same as me.  You’ll go into the family vault wearing your best suit, and I’ll go into a hole in the ground wearing my best suit, then we are both worm food.  Death is a great leveller sir, because you can’t take it with you.  Oh you may be remembered as the founder of this company, or the son of the founder of this company, seeing as it’s your father’s name over the door, or for any charitable deeds you may have done during your lifetime, but you, your body will become worm food.  No one will remember me except my friends and they, in time, will join me under the sod and then I’ll be forgotten, as will you in time.”

          “That’s what I like about you, and it’s what my father liked about your father.  You talk straight, you don’t mince your words.  You would have made a formidable manager MacLaine.  Good night.”

          “Goodnight sir.”