Things I can afford that the middle class cannot: 16 ft tall security walls

As I sit with Mrs. Ross on my favorite of the seven decks that surround my palatial ocean side estate, exhausted from a day spent espousing the virtues of values and ethics in Corporate America (however, false they may be), I take comfort that we are able to sit undisturbed and topless, away from prying jealous eyes. For as much as they may desperately seek a glimpse into a life of luxury, my sixteen-foot tall, imported Costa Rican lava rock privacy wall prevents their envious middle-class eyes from doing so.

Sometimes, when my driver erroneously steers the Maybach into yet another neighborhood brought to you by Shea Homes or Richmond American, I laugh to myself at the matchstick fences that pathetically try to hide the dead sod and cheap plastic toys that litter the yards like discarded trash. For if any neighborhood demands fortification it are those of the middle-class. Though, such walls would protect the eyes of the innocent as much as they would the egos of the hyper-extended, paycheck-to-paycheck homeowners.

My walls (and yes I have many, all literal) isolate me from the realities faced by the average. The moment I cross the gate's threshold I am transported to an idyllic paradise designed and created especially for me. My walls afford Mrs. Ross the tan-line free look she demands and allow our child to play, free from predation and the jealous, thieving bullies that permeate suburban playgrounds.


There are those who argue that such defenses scar the landscape and further isolate the rich from the poor. While I disagree that such walls scar the land, I agree fully that they isolate the rich from the poor. For that, my acolytes, is the primary reason God invented stone.

Analysis: Week One Poll

As much as I love her, Mrs. Ross has tastes that any man would find difficult to satiate. But she's my wife and I love her and if that means I need to fuel up the Citation and jet down to West Palm so she can go to Charley's Crab then so be it. If I have to move mountains, I will. Mrs. Ross gets what Mrs. Ross wants. Of course, when money is no object it's easy to bring one's dreams to reality.

However, as you do not possess the unlimited financial resources I do, you'll find your dreams harder to realize-, which, if you're middle class (and I'm sure you are) you've probably gotten used to. But, since you're reading this article and visiting this site you have obviously decided that you want more than mediocrity. You're just lacking a road map to take you there.

In last week's poll I asked if you would compromise your morals to get ahead. Not surprisingly the majority of you said "no" while only a couple said "yes." Now, the tenor of this blog may lead you to believe that I would disagree with those who said they would not compromise their morals to get ahead. I do not. How can that be, you ask? Because I distinguish my morals from my ethics. Example: morals tell us that divorce is wrong. Ethics tell us that it would be improper to flaunt our indiscretions in our loved one's faces. See the difference?

So if staying true to one's morals is the hallmark of any leader worth his salt, how is it possible to get ahead? The answer, again, lies in ethics. It also happens to be Ross' Rule #1: One cannot compromise their ethics if they have no ethics.

If it sounds simple, that's because it is.

After Korea, when I was an enthusiastic young financial analyst, I learned the effectiveness of this rule first hand. My boss was a nice guy- very intelligent, very dapper, very nurturing and very trusting. He helped me adjust to my new life and showed me the ways of Corporate America. Under his guidance I learned as much as I have ever learned from any of my bosses before or after. In fact, I learned so much that I quickly was ready for promotion. But there was a problem- my boss had the job I would be promoted to.

What to do?

As mentioned, my boss was a very nice guy. I, on the other hand, wasn't. Sure, I acted the part, but deep down I was a cutthroat bastard. Always was, always will be. So, one day I happened to be see my boss’s boss at the country club and I let slip that my boss made a pass at me. The next day, he got fired and I took his job. He never suspected a thing and I never lost an ounce of sleep. You do what you got to do. Do I feel remorse at what I did? Hell no. Do I feel bad for the guy? Well, it turned out he actually was a gay. Last I heard he was very high up at some clothing company. If it wasn't for what I did would he have been as successful? I doubt it.

Remember Ross' Rule #1 as you move forward with your career. Who knows; maybe I'll see you at Charley's.