The Man Who Has Everything

Volume XI
Issue 5
May 2008

QuestionLady is written and played by SL Stukey, herself an Obscure Celebrity of a sort. It is likely that somewhere, sometime, you have read something she has written, especially if you live in the Midwestern United States. She has been writing promotional material, instruction manuals, and other such everyday literature for many years (she'd say how many, if she could remember what year she started, it was 1989, or maybe 1991). She always thought she'd be a real writer someday, but she's not holding her breath anymore.

She can be contacted at:

The Man Who
Has Everything

QuestionLady met with The Man Who Has Everything (henceforth known as MHE) in his spacious corner office, located on one of the upper floors in the tallest building of this small Midwestern city. His executive secretary (who was attractive, but not too attractive) buzzed me into MHE’s inner office. The building is Midwestern modernist, but MHE’s office is paneled in oak veneer, with furnishings to match. The view out one set of windows shows the river where it bends through the city; the other set of windows shows the city itself.

MHE is a distinguished looking middle-aged man with light brown hair accompanied by the appropriate graying at the temples. He has clear blue eyes. He is impeccably dressed.

QuestionLady: Hello.
The Man Who Has Everything: Hello, very nice to meet you.

He offers QL a seat, and sits down in his own office chair. We both sink into the puffy comfort of butter-soft leather upholstery.

QL: Well, it’s nice to meet you, The Man Who Has Everything. I take it you do, in fact, have everything?
MHE: Yes, yes, I do have everything. My business is thriving; I have a beautiful wife, two attractive and accomplished children (a boy and a girl), and a mortgage refinanced at 5.9%.

QL: Um, that’s nice. It must be nice, having everything?
MHE: Yes, it is nice. My new Mercedes is being delivered tomorrow, and my wife and I look forward to taking our family to Hawaii over the upcoming holidays.

QL: That sounds nice.
MHE: Yes, it is nice. My wife and I are planning to remodel our kitchen next spring. Other than that, my life is complete. Not a cloud in the sky.

MHE's brow furrows for a moment, but his expression immediately reverts to magisterial calm. But QL, dedicated to journalistic expose, is quick to pounce on this lead.

QL: But not everything is nice; you do have a problem?
MHE: No, no, it’s nothing. Nothing at all.

QL (smelling a scoop): What are the drawbacks to being The Man Who Has Everything?
MHE: I wouldn’t exactly call it a drawback.

QL: But there is something--a fly in the ointment, crumbs in the butter, seeds in the seedless grapes, a . . .
MHE: Yes, yes, there is something!

QL: And that would be . . .?
MHE: (whispers): Gifts.

QL: Gifts?
MHE: Yes, yes, you know, items people give to other people to commemorate an occasion.

QL (dryly): I know what a gift is.
MHE: That is my curse.

QL: Gifts are what’s wrong with your life?
MHE: Yes.

QL: Why don’t you tell your family what you want? Make a list, that sort of thing.
MHE: My family always gives me attractive, appropriate gifts. My immediate family, that is. It’s other people. People who don’t know me, but feel a need to gift me. They insist on giving me gifts.

QL: And that’s a problem?
MHE: Yes. It’s not so much the idea of being given a gift, it’s what they give me. You’ve seen them. In the stores. In upscale (and other) catalogs. "Gifts for The Man Who Has Everything." I don’t want to sound ungracious, but I wish they would please stop.

MHE leaps up, crosses the office to a fine simulated oak armoire and throws open the door. It is full of merchandise--the sort of goods sold to give to the MHE. He pulls a few items from the top.

MHE: A mini-vacuum for my keyboard--I have cleaning people who take care of that. Besides, it operates on 2 AA batteries and doesn’t have the power to frighten lint, much less vacuum it up. A travel chess set.--you need a magnifying glass to identify the pieces. Besides, I don’t play chess, travel or otherwise. A monogrammed leather golf tee holder, complete with monogrammed silver golf tees. No comment.

MHE throws these items back into the armoire, and turns to face QL, who is still comfortably squished down in the butter-soft leather upholstery. She has given up asking questions, as MHE seems to be on a roll.

MHE: What am I supposed to do with this stuff? I can’t give it to charity (certainly not the monogrammed items.) Why can’t people give me a nice cheese tray, a tie, a gift certificate to Denny’s. Anything but this useless junk.

MHE begins wildly pulling items from the armoire. At this point QuestionLady became alarmed and disengaged herself from the butter-soft leather upholstery in order to leave the room.

MHE (muttering): No more golf trivia games, no more executive desk toys, no more monogrammed anything.

QL eases to the door and leaves MHE’s office, but not before she is given a stuffed referee doll with removable Velcroed arms and legs, a mini-screwdriver key chain, and a set of bar towels embroidered with the saying, "Tee many Martoonies". She returned to her office, quite thankful that people don’t give her gifts very often, if at all. Rather than a nice cheese tray, she plans on giving The Man Who Has Everything a gift from not that she’s plugging that worthy organization.

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