Lessons on Men from “The Little Prince”: The Businessman
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Photo by Martin Long
The Little Prince
As the story goes, the little prince was a boy who was the only human inhabitant of a tiny island. His life was simple there, filled with various chores and simple pleasures, such as watching sunsets after his work was done. Until one day, a beautiful rose appeared and he fell in love with her.
But, the rose was rather moody and difficult to get along with—what we would call today, “high-maintenance.” And, so, he decided to leave her and see what he could find in the rest of the universe, as he had never before left his tiny planet.
On his adventure, he first encountered a series of men, one on each of their own tiny planets. (But, scientists would call them “asteroids.”) There were six such tiny planets/asteroids in all. Here is what the little prince found on the fourth one:
THE BUSINESSMAN FROM THE LITTLE PRINCE
The fourth planet belonged to a businessman. This person was so busy that he didn’t even raise his head when the little prince arrived.
“Hello,” said the little prince. “Your cigarette’s gone out.”
“Three and two make five. Five and seven, twelve. Twelve and three, fifteen. Hello. Fifteen and seven, twenty-two. Twenty-two and six, twenty-eight. No time to light it again. Twenty-six and five, thirty-one. Whew! That amounts to five-hundred-and-one million, six-hundred-twenty-two thousand, seven hundred thirty-one.”
“Five-hundred million what?”
“Hmm? You’re still there? Five-hundred-and-one million … I don’t remember … I have so much work to do! I’m a serious man. I can’t be bothered with trifles! Two and five, seven … ”
“Five-hundred-and-one million what?” repeated the little prince, who had never in his life let go of a question once he had asked it.
The businessman raised his head. “For the fifty-four years I’ve inhabited this planet, I’ve been interrupted only three times. The first time was twenty-two years ago, when I was interrupted by a beetle that had fallen onto my desk from god knows where. It made a terrible noise, and I made four mistakes in my calculations. The second time was eleven years ago, when I was interrupted by a fit of rheumatism. I don’t get enough exercise. I haven’t time to take strolls. I’m a serious person. The third time … is right now! Where was I? Five-hundred-and-one million … ”
“Million what?”
The businessman realized that he had no hope of being left in peace. “Oh, of those little things you sometimes see in the sky.”
“Flies?”
“No, those little shiny things.”
“Bees?”
“No, those little golden things that make lazy people daydream. Now, I’m a serious person. I have no time for daydreaming.”
“Ah! You mean the stars?”
“Yes, that’s it. Stars.”
“And what do you do with five-hundred million stars?”
“Five-hundred-and-one million, six-hundred-twenty-two thousand, seven hundred thirty-one. I’m a serious person, and I’m accurate.”
“And what do you do with those stars?”
“What do I do with them?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing. I own them.”
“You own the stars?”
“Yes.”
“But I’ve already seen a king who—”
“Kings don’t own. they ‘reign’ over … It’s quite different.”
“And what good does owning the stars do you?”
“It does me the good of being rich.”
“And what good does it do you to be rich?”
“It lets me buy other stars, if somebody discovers them.”
The little prince said to himself, This man argues a little like my drunkard. Nevertheless he asked more questions. “How can someone own the stars?”
“To whom do they belong?” retorted the businessman grumpily.
“I don’t know. To nobody.”
“Then, they belong to me, because I thought of it first.”
“And that’s all it takes?”
“Of course. When you find a diamond that belongs to nobody in particular, then it’s yours. When you find an island that belongs to nobody in particular, it’s yours. When you’re the first person to have an idea, you patent it and it’s yours. Now I own the stars, since no one before me ever thought of owning them.”
“That’s true enough,” the little prince said. “And what do you do with them?”
“I manage them. I count them and then count them again,” the businessman said. “It’s difficult work. But I’m a serious person!”
The little prince was still not satisfied. “If I own a scarf, I can tie it around my neck and take it away. If I own a flower, I can pick it up and take it away. But you can’t pick the stars!”
“No, but I can put them in the bank.’
“What does that mean?”
“That means that I write the number of my stars on a slip of paper. And then I lock that slip of paper in a drawer.”
“And that’s all?”
“That’s enough!”
That’s amusing, thought the little prince. And even poetic. But not very serious. The little prince had very different ideas about serious things from those of the grown-ups. “I own a flower myself,” he continued, “which I water every day. I own three volcanoes, which I rake out every week. I even rake out the extinct one. You never know. So it’s of some use to my volcanoes, and it’s useful to my flowers, that I own them. But you’re not useful to the stars.”
The businessman opened his mouth but found nothing to say in reply, and the little prince went on his way.
“Grown-ups are certainly quite extraordinary” was all he said to himself as he continued on his journey.
CONCLUSION
A company sort of began selling stars in 1979. Actually, they sell, for 48 U.S. dollars, the ability to “name” a star in their private registry, which registry is not recognized by the scientific community or in any other official capacity. So, you don’t “own” the star any more than the businessman in the above story owned any of his 501,622,731 stars. Still, over 1,000,000 people in less than 30 years have shelled out nearby 50 bucks each to receive a 12″ x 16″ certificate with their chosen name for a star on it along with a booklet of the constellations and with a red circle around “their” named star. And, I’ll bet it makes the owners of all those certificates feel about as good as the businessman above did, which is not much.
Whether it’s stars, cars, or designer clothes, if you work too hard to enjoy them—or if your work doesn’t actually benefit someone or something that you care about—you are also in danger of being too “serious” for all the wrong reasons. I certainly spent way to much time and money chasing empty goals and possessions. (For example, see “How I Paid Off $50,000 of Debt in One Year” and “Why We Buy It Even If We Don’t Need It.”) Now, that I’ve finally found work that I love for its own sake as well as for its potential to help others, I’m very happy indeed! : )
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