Seeing Chelsea Clinton this past week got me thinking about what it must be like to be Bill and Hillary’s only child. Things can’t be anything but good. I can only imagine the kind of life she has and continues to live. It must be comforting to know that you can have anything money can buy, that you can go places many only dream or read about. Most of all, it must be great to have a last name that opens doors everywhere. 

Who can say no to a former First Daughter who could re-assume the title in three years? I’ve always fantasized about having famous parents, right from when I was still in school. We had a couple of Ministers’ and a few other high profile people’s kids.

Most bore their fathers’ last names and there was no way you could miss them. They were the ones everyone wanted to be friends with. People were always falling over themselves to do stuff for them. Sometimes we had to peel or do some general cleaning. There was also washing and ironing uniforms on weekends. 

Anyone who attended boarding school knows the routine. Famous kids did none of that because there was always someone eager to help. While we jostled at the school canteen during break time, our special friends waited for their deliveries. They had the best seats in class, usually next to a window.

Back in the dormitories, the right last name secured you that coveted top bed, ensuring that your bed stayed neat all day since nobody would sit on it. I badly wanted all of that. Unfortunately, I was a nobody. At the peak of adolescence, everyone I knew was changing their name or adding something. I thought about using my Dad’s name but realised nobody knew him either so it was pointless. I hope I marry a famous guy someday so my kids don’t go through the same. 

I don’t understand why we give rich people special treatment. I mean, don’t they have enough already? The head of house in a less privileged home won’t hesitate to slaughter his last chicken when the rich man visits. His own children may not even partake of it as everything is reserved for the guest. 

I remember a couple of years back when my cousins from Sweden were coming over for Christmas. They’re not even rich, but everybody assumes they are just because they live abroad. Anyway, we had meetings before they arrived and money was collected to give them a "proper” welcome. So we prepare all these kinds of meats and delicacies we thought they’d love and they didn’t touch most of it. One happens to a vegetarian and the other said the food was too greasy.

If only they knew that their relatives not only had to dig deep but also spent hours preparing the food, they’d have been a little more polite. They didn’t even bring us anything. People usually bring T-shirts, handbags or toys for children. This stuff doesn’t cost much and I know they just didn’t want to do it. Unfortunately, some rich people are just like that. They’ll mostly take from you, intentionally or otherwise, and give little or nothing back. 

Back to Chelsea, and I’m not suggesting she’s pompous or selfish, seeing that she left a high paying Wall Street job to join her dad’s foundation. She says she didn’t find her former job meaningful. If I were in her position and made that kind of money, I’d be happy because at the end of the day, fulfillment doesn’t pay the bills.

But I understand her predicament. It’s not like she needs the money. The girl’s net worth is over $15 million and she has a safety net in her parents who themselves are worth over $120 million. To think that my family, immediate and extended, is not even close to $300,000. Life!

To be continued…