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Betelgeuse
, your $00.02?
I've a couple reasons why the Mexican elite are of interest to me. My great grandfather's parents both died when he was in second grade, forcing him to drop out and become a shepherd in rural Mexico. He and my great grandmother came to Texas, where he worked on the railroad for close to 60 years. My grandmother is one of nine children, raised poor, but not starving. Both great grandparents heavily took after their Indian heritage.
My grandfather was part of the Argentine elite and was basically disowned from his family when he married a poor Tejana (and was further distanced when he divorced her, leaving her with three kids, to run off to Mexico with a drug addicted prostitute). Still, interesting that his family disapproved of my grandmother so much because of her low social standing (though it is interesting to note that after he left her, they were so appalled by his actions that they paid for my grandmother's education...she later went on to become a principle of a high school in Houston).
I worked retail in San Antonio through university. There was a certain type of Mexican which took entitlement to a whole new level. They drove up to San Antonio to shop. When I worked at a book store, they would routinely spread the books they were thinking of purchasing out on the floor, pick out the few, and leave the rest for me to place back on the shelves. Routinely they would just hand me trash. This is now the impression I have when I think of the Mexican 1%.
Mexico's cosseted elite: Named and shamed
The Economist
IT HAS been a bad week for Mexico’s high and mighty, and a good week for Schadenfreude. This is thanks in large part to the growth of social media (as a share of the population, Twitter is said to be more prevalent in Mexico than it is in the United States) and a public increasingly sick of the warped sense of entitlement enjoyed by parts of the political establishment.
There can be few Mexicans who are not relishing the downfall of Humberto Benítez, head of the consumer protection agency, Profeco, who was sacked on the orders of President Enrique Peña Nieto on May 15th. For weeks Mr Benítez clung tenaciously to his job, claiming he had nothing to do with a scandal that started when his daughter, Andrea (pictured), failed to get the table she wanted in one of Mexico City’s trendiest restaurants. She stormed over to Profeco demanding that the restaurant, Maximo Bistrot, be closed down. Her father was in hospital at the time, but his subalterns responded with alacrity, sending over inspectors who partially halted business at the restaurant over some minor misdemeanours. Not, however, before Twitter had started to buzz with the story (Andrea was quickly branded #LadyProfeco), turning it into a national scandal.
On May 9th, Mr Benítez absolved himself of responsibility and said the idea of resigning had never crossed his mind—even though four of his underlings were suspended from work for responding to his daughter’s precocity. Less than a week later, though, the president pushed him out to avoid further damage to Profeco’s reputation. It was a welcome move that made Mr Peña look good. It must have made those who named and shamed his daughter feel even better.
By coincidence, in the same week that Mr Benítez was sacked, a local radio station in the south-eastern state of Tabasco revealed audio recordings of Andrés Granier, a former governor of the state, bragging about his 400 pairs of shoes, 600 suits and 1,000 shirts, most of which he kept in his swanky homes abroad because, he said, he was obliged to dress down in Tabasco. Responding to the revelations, which were recorded shortly before he left office, he claimed that he was drunk at the time, and denied most if it. But newspapers were quick to note the old saying that children and drunks always speak the truth.
These stories suggest something positive is emerging in Mexico, a country that, despite some improvements, still has one of the widest gaps between rich and poor in Latin America. Those armed with iPhones, cameras and recording devices—albeit they too, probably, living far better than most Mexicans—are increasingly calling politicians and others to account for unjustifiable extravagance, in effect forcing them to take responsibility for their actions. So is the mainstream media.
There may be political benefits to the crusade. Mexicans have been regaled with stories about the opulent lifestyle of Elba Esther Gordillo, former head of the main teachers’ union, now languishing in jail accused of money laundering and links to organised crime. Her arrest came just after the passage of a big education reform that the union had long resisted. In the past month Reforma, a widely read Mexican newspaper, has also exposed the fabulous jet-set lifestyle in Miami of the son of Carlos Romero Deschamps, leader of the oil-workers' union. This will make it all the harder for Mr Romero Deschamps to stand up against reform of the energy sector.
Such stories make wonderful press: they offer a tantalising glimpse into the private lives of a privileged few; they also strike a chord with a society fed up at seeing such a cosseted elite lapping up so much of Mexico’s prosperity. The good news is that these days, society has more tools and more guts to bring them to account.
I've a couple reasons why the Mexican elite are of interest to me. My great grandfather's parents both died when he was in second grade, forcing him to drop out and become a shepherd in rural Mexico. He and my great grandmother came to Texas, where he worked on the railroad for close to 60 years. My grandmother is one of nine children, raised poor, but not starving. Both great grandparents heavily took after their Indian heritage.
My grandfather was part of the Argentine elite and was basically disowned from his family when he married a poor Tejana (and was further distanced when he divorced her, leaving her with three kids, to run off to Mexico with a drug addicted prostitute). Still, interesting that his family disapproved of my grandmother so much because of her low social standing (though it is interesting to note that after he left her, they were so appalled by his actions that they paid for my grandmother's education...she later went on to become a principle of a high school in Houston).
I worked retail in San Antonio through university. There was a certain type of Mexican which took entitlement to a whole new level. They drove up to San Antonio to shop. When I worked at a book store, they would routinely spread the books they were thinking of purchasing out on the floor, pick out the few, and leave the rest for me to place back on the shelves. Routinely they would just hand me trash. This is now the impression I have when I think of the Mexican 1%.