Who’s Driving Edward Lewis?

Edward Lewis, as we know, is out of his depth when it comes to industrial machinery. That much is inarguable. On taking Vivian up to his penthouse suite at their first meeting, he fumbles with the plastic card that will allow them entry. “I miss keys,” Edward laments. As we know, he is even worse with high-end, expensive machinery. Of the vehicular variety. No surprise, because, as Edward acknowledges, “My first car was a limousine.” The Lotus, Vivian tells an uncomprehending Edward, corners “like it’s on rails.”

Cornering like a Formula One driver is what girls from Georgia learn by regularly reading Road and Track magazine. Dumbfounded not only at her skill as a driver but by her knowledge of cars, Edward asks: “How do you know so much about cars?” “How do you know so little?” she shoots back, throwing Edward for more than a second.

Indeed, how does he know so little? Postindustrialist that he is—well, quite easily, actually. After all, one of the distinguishing features of the postmodern economy is that it moved from industrialization (mechanization) to technologization, from the assembly line to the mainframe computer to, in our moment, that all-purpose device, the cell phone (or, as a generation born with no use for the landline telephone would abbreviate—truncate—it, simply, the phone).

Having just been dumped by his latest girlfriend, who complains that she speaks to Edward’s secretary Susan more than she does to him (it’s a common Edward failing, as a former girlfriend attests) and finding himself in need of an escort for the week, Edward hires Vivian. Her rate, Edward finds out to his surprise, is $100 an hour. In response to Edward’s astonishment, Vivian retorts: “I never joke about money.” Edward, now back on more familiar turf, offers a quick and honest reply: “Neither do I.”

Indeed, who, in the contemporary economy can afford to “joke about money?” Money is what gets you to the penthouse. Money is what can get you off the street—if you want, that is.