The Real Economy in a World of Make Believe

By S. Aprov

“Where are you?” my wife asks worriedly.
I shift the cell phone to my left ear. The limousine I’m traveling in hits a dip in the road, and I almost drop the Blackberry. My papers on the seat beside me bounce about, and a few fall onto the grey mats which line the back floor of the car. The limousine driver apologizes profusely, but I barely notice.
“What?” I say, speaking to my wife. “I can’t hear you! Speak up! My Blackberry’s low on power.”
The connection is intact, but there is no immediate answer, only a faint buzzing; the winter storm engulfing New York is causing a problem with my cell phone.
“Are you still in New York?” she asks eventually.
There’s a hint of irritation in her barely audible voice. Her words have a distant tinny tone.
“You said you’d be back in Toronto two hours ago” she adds.
“It’s snowing quite badly here” I reply. “I ‘m stuck in traffic in lower Manhattan. The meeting went longer than planned. The client wanted to hear more about the economy than I expected.”
The line goes dead, and the only reply I get is the Blackberry telling me ‘signal lost’. So much for using ‘Big Blue’ I mutter. Why am I holding these shares?
The limousine driver, a friendly man of Indian extraction from the Caribbean, has been listening to my conversation.
“Have you lost the call, sir?”
He has a distinct Indian accent that is unusual to my ears, but he is also very polite and respectful; it removes the edge from my situation.
“Yes” I answer.
Lost in my thoughts, I look out the window, and my mood turns from mildly irritated to miserable. The snow is heavier than before and is being pushed about by fierce winds. Traffic has slowed to a crawl. Everywhere I look thick white smoke spews from the tailpipes of cars that crawl along the snow covered street.
“How much longer till we get to the airport?” I ask
“You’re asking about the airport, sir?”
“Yes, I hope we’re heading to La Guardia?”
“Of course sir, but as you can see, this bloody snow is making it impossible to get there. Let me tell you, when it snows in New York, all the worst drivers show up.”
Just ahead of our car, I see a street woman stepping off the curb. She is wrapped tightly in an ill-fitting grey wool overcoat that falls to her ankles. The collar of her coat is turned up, and she wears an oversized red toque that covers most of her head. Oblivious to the traffic around her, the woman begins to casually saunter across the road pushing a silver colored grocery cart which she uses to carry her possessions. A collision with our limousine seems inevitable, and my heart races.
Fortunately, the driver is traveling at less than ten miles per hour, and he’s able to make a quick stop narrowly missing her. Somewhat shaken, the limousine driver honks his horn fiercely. The woman turns toward the cab driver and reveals the deeply etched face of a sixty something woman with yellowed white hair. With a disinterested annoyance that comes from a life of hardship, she flips the driver the bird. The driver shakes his head. For the first time in the fifteen minute trip, the driver has becomes angry, but no curse words come from his mouth.
“As you can see” the driver says apologetically “it’ll likely be a slow drive to La Guardia, but at least the limousine is comfortable. Let me tell you, sir, there’s no better driver in New York than me, Rajeev.”
With this little bit of self promotion, the limousine driver, whose name I’ve now come to know as Rajeev, presses a smile to his lips and glances reassuringly at me through the rear view mirror.
After this incident, I suppose he senses his tip to be at risk. I understand his worry. Everywhere I’ve gone in New York, there seems to be two classes of people, the rich and the working poor. The poor are paid miserably and life is expensive here.
“Yes, sir, it’ll be very slow indeed” Rajeev adds.
Considering the driving conditions, I grip the back of Rajeev’s padded black leather seat and lean closer to him.
“If it’s snowing this bad, will LaGuardia be open? What about Brooklyn Bridge?” I ask nervously.
“Yes, sir, rain or shine, La Guardia is always open, but dispatch is telling me the Brooklyn Bridge is closed because of the snow. We’ll avoid Brooklyn and go north to mid town. Then we’ll cross from Manhattan to Queens through the Midtown Tunnel. Afterwards, we’ll travel east through Queens using the Long Island Expressway. Don’t worry, sir, I’ve used this route many times.”
Rajeev’s answer seems reassuring, and I sit back in my seat. Almost immediately, he makes a quick turn and exits down a side street in his attempt to turn north.
As the limousine barrels down scarcely traveled back alleys and side streets, we seem to make progress. The only occasional problem is a dumpster narrowly missed, or other drivers, who having a similar plan, cross Rajeev’s path, earning them a quick blast of his horn. They respond in like manner, and honor is satisfied on both sides.
Eventually, we exit the financial district and end up traveling north to mid town along side streets which give glimpses of the East River. The dark river is cold and uninviting. Where the river does not swell, pockets of thin ice have begun to form. As we approach the Midtown Tunnel that will take us under the river to Queens, Rajeev begins to relax.
“So tell me, sir, is this your first trip to Manhattan?”
“No, I’ve been here several times” I reply. “I’m a financial analyst and my clients fly me back and forth for meetings.”
“Oh, I see! My brother-in-law is a day trader” Rajeev says, eager to chat.
I turn my head to the window and roll my eyes. Everyone’s unemployed brother-in-law is a day trader.
“He tells me a big correction is coming soon!” Rajeev says knowingly. “Maybe it’ll be as bad as last year!”
“I don’t think so” I reply carefully. “Maybe a correction of ten percent down, but that’s about it.”
“Well anyways, sir, that’s for the rich to worry about. I have four daughters and they’re all married to white guys. Every single one is unemployed. One lives with her husband in Michigan, and there are hundreds of thousands unemployed there. Another one lives in California and that state is bankrupt. But what can you expect from an actor turned Governor? These people are worse than politicians who become actors once they’re elected! My other two daughters used to run small businesses in Yonkers. They went bankrupt last year, and the banks won’t lend them money. It’s very sad, sir. I have to send money to everyone so they can live. There’s hardly enough for me and my wife! I’m already working three jobs at age fifty seven. She is working two and not in good health!”
I feel sorry for Rajeev and his family, but it is a familiar story. What can I do?
“Tell me, sir, what about these bailouts? All I see on television is President Obama telling everyone to be patient.”
Moved by Rajeev’s story and being thankful for his driving skill, I try to offer my own words of reassurance.
“It’s interesting that you ask these questions. My client more or less asked the same ones. He wanted to know how the economy would perform six months out. I told him to expect U.S. economic growth of three to four percent in 2010. Positive employment numbers should show up by the summer.”
“So the bailouts are working, sir?” a confused Rajeev asks.
“Well not quite” I reply. “To this point, the bailouts seem to have benefited the banks more than the economy.”
Rajeev approaches the toll entrance to the Midtown Tunnel and stops in the long line up of snow covered cars. His irritation returns, and he forgets about our conversation. His sour mood is aggravated by a malfunctioning meter box which he begins to fuss with vigorously.
While Rajeev works, I look at one of the reports I’ve brought with me. It describes how President Obama's bailout money has profited the banks more than the economy. The report can be found here:
Bailouts Used by Banks
This is the one piece of information I didn’t show my client. My client is a banker.
A flustered Rajeev interrupts my thoughts.
“I’m sorry, sir, but my meter box isn’t working properly. While we wait, I’m going to talk to one of the other drivers. I’ll be back in a minute. We should be at La Guardia in thirty minutes” Rajeev adds.
As Rajeev opens his door, a cold blast of winter wind enters the car and chills me to the bone. A few flakes of snow brush against my face. Afterwards, when Rajeev closes his door, I look at my watch. My flight leaves in an hour. My cell phone still shows ‘no service’. I clasp my hands behind my head and try to push worry from my mind. If need be, I can stay overnight in a hotel near the airport.
However, I wonder what will happen, if the economy does not improve by the summer. The effects of that cold wind will not be cured by the simple closing of a door. The nagging example of Japan circa 1990 to present worries me. They too tried bailouts and promised a recovery. For them, the golden days of the 1980’s are a distant memory. What will happen to the Rajeev’s of this world if there is no recovery, or one that is merely lukewarm. How far would stocks advance then?
The stock rally from the March 2009 lows has been surprisingly healthy and long. What if the inevitable correction becomes a rout fueled by a stagnant economy? Are we living in a world of make believe?
Rajeev returns to the car, and another blast of cold air greets me.
“The problem is solved, sir” Rajeev proudly proclaims. “We’ll soon be on our way.”
I wonder.