Read an interesting article in Intelligent Life, an Economist special, yesterday. It was by Alain de Botton, and looked at the way status, and perceptions of it, mold us. It was an abstract from a book he wrote some time ago, Status Anxiety
His main argument, it seems to me, is that in a meritocratic society the way is now clear for anyone to be successful; that the constraints of class or the creed that people are born into no longer apply. The corollary of this, of course, is that people who don't make it really are failures, and that they deserve, in the natural order of things, to be so and to be seen to be so.
He goes on to talk about definitions of success, and how, rather than absolute levels of wealth, most people define themselves as successful if they have the possessions and preferences of people they themselves deem to be successful. If he's successful and has a Ferrari, then I'm successful if I have one too. Hence the success and appeal of branding. I don't have a watch, I have a Rolex
Well, this explains a lot. Especially about what happens here in Asia's World City - what the fuck does that mean? - aka Imageville, Asia, aka Hong Kong. Like in most small communities (such as Buttfuck, Alabama and Colostomy, Ohio), the effects of in-breeding and narrow horizons can be quite debilitating. Which explains why every business meeting you go to here features an array of same-suited, same-accessorised blokes and birds. They are obviously self-validating their success by being clones of each other (isn't that tautology?; don't you need at least one original to produce a clone? - in which case I'd like to find out who he/she is/was). Stepford Meeting.<
Well that's fine, but the question is: who decides that success is defined by the Rolex Oyster Perpetual Calendar 36mm: or the Tiffany Silver Mesh cuff link? 
Someone must have decreed this, because the Hong Kong Club is full of them. All flashing their success discreetly but surely in the faces of the rest of God's Chosen People in the Jackson Room
The Hong Kong Club, though is strict about some things. Well, most things, actually. One of these, like most places these days, is a prohibition on mobile phones. Odd really, if you think about it. I mean it's like banning the use of mobiles while driving. Sure it's dangerous, but probably no more than eating a Starbuck's bun or drinking a Diet Vanilla Coke. Or trying to have a bad-tempered discussion with your passenger. I wonder when they'll invent the hands-free latte.<
But banned they are, so the over-achievers here end up being torn between trying to flash their gold over the truffles (on the one hand) and being unable to stay in contact with that breaking gazillion-dollar deal (on the other
Which probably explains why now there are only four (or five, max) of us in Hong Kong who don't have a Blackberry. 
Sales pitch: “Why have a life of your own when we can run it for you. It’s always on, so now you will be too”. It's like a disease. "Levels of Blackberry infection have reached pandemic proportions," says Hong Kong health chief, "so the Government is considering urgently what measures it might take to protect the public telecommunications system". " Stress levels reaching new high" screams the headline in Investment Banking Monthly. "Thumb RSI out of control" suggests the Asia Pacific edition of Physio Gazette. Well. maybe. What is true is that this little device (actually not so little; it has to be big enough to allow you to do two-thumb typing without the knuckles crashing into one another - I wonder if they have separate Caucasian and Asian models, with this in mind?) is now everywhere. And with it, a chance for over-achievers to remind us of just how important they and their high-roller jobs really are
Sit next to one at dinner and they'll be furtively wriggling their fingers under the table cloth. Very distasteful. Or have a drink with one and see their brain conspicuously fail to manage at the one time a conversation about Asian legs and read/reply to a message from their colleague asking if there is any Verve Cliquot in the office fridge for the morning. Or queue behind one on the MTR and have to remind them that the train has arrived and that the doors are now open, while they read the latest op-ed from the Bohai Economic Research Journal
Quite frightening to see otherwise sensible adults addicted to a gizmo which links them like an unbreakable bungee cord to their jobs. But perhaps not that surprising, given that their job is their life, and the conspicuous demonstration of their success. And besides, everyone else has one. Don't they?
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