----- 3 stars ----- My First Gulfstream / Vanity Fair An interesting read (albeit from 1998): After his initial reaction, I expected a lecture about what a pathetic, cosseted wimp I was even to consider such an extravagance. Instead, he said, “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said tonight,” and proceeded to detail all the reasons I was stupid for not already owning a private jet. Emboldened by this response, I asked several other friends the same question, and I found the results were very predictable. Those who have jets had a strong positive response. There was an almost conspiratorial tone to the conversation, as if I had confessed to a secret passion they shared. People I had known for years without hearing a word about their plane would suddenly wax eloquent about it. In retrospect, the reason was obvious. You cannot really talk about your jet to non–jet owners, unless you want to come off as some kind of braggart. So, after biting their tongues all that time, jet owners were happy to help when somebody had a sincere interest in joining the club. The disapprovals were just as strong. Responses ranged from the barely articulate “Why spend all that money on a frigging jet, for Chrissake?” to holier-than-thou put-downs. “That is not a use of capital I find acceptable” was one retort. People worth billions could suddenly sound like Marxists when confronted with the private-jet issue. One famously parsimonious billionaire I talked to said, “Jesus, do you know what those cost to operate? Maybe four grand an hour! Who is worth that?” I offered on the spot to buy the next year of his time for $5,000 an hour, as long as I got his profits in return. Sadly for me, he rethought his position. My favorite reply came from Warren Buffett. “That sort of prurient interest isn’t suitable for a youngster like you,” he said in a father-knows-best tone. Accepting the inevitable, as a good father should, he concluded, “but when you get it, I want a ride.” [...] Decorating a plane is even more wildly expensive than flying in one. No matter how outrageous you think a ground-based price is, wait until you try to put the stuff into a jet. Part of this is the genuine need to use special lightweight materials. Strict F.A.A. regulations also play a role. Mostly, however, it seems to be a way for the completion centers to take a rich guy for a ride even more expensive than he’ll get in his jet. People who have been in business a while tend to develop a good bullshit detector—a sixth sense that tells them when things do not add up. I fancy myself an expert in this arena, and count on it to see me through many tough situations—jets included. What I failed to realize is that my bullshit detector would be in constant alarm. Everything I heard told me I was being taken advantage of left, right, and center. It wasn’t a question of detecting bullshit—I was swimming neck deep in it. But you can’t fight it all, you have to prioritize.
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----- 3 stars ----- My First Gulfstream / Vanity Fair An interesting read (albeit from 1998): After his initial reaction, I expected a lecture about what a pathetic, cosseted wimp I was even to consider such an extravagance. Instead, he said, “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said tonight,” and proceeded to detail all the reasons I was stupid for not already owning a private jet. Emboldened by this response, I asked several other friends the same question, and I found the results were very predictable. Those who have jets had a strong positive response. There was an almost conspiratorial tone to the conversation, as if I had confessed to a secret passion they shared. People I had known for years without hearing a word about their plane would suddenly wax eloquent about it. In retrospect, the reason was obvious. You cannot really talk about your jet to non–jet owners, unless you want to come off as some kind of braggart. So, after biting their tongues all that time, jet owners were happy to help when somebody had a sincere interest in joining the club. The disapprovals were just as strong. Responses ranged from the barely articulate “Why spend all that money on a frigging jet, for Chrissake?” to holier-than-thou put-downs. “That is not a use of capital I find acceptable” was one retort. People worth billions could suddenly sound like Marxists when confronted with the private-jet issue. One famously parsimonious billionaire I talked to said, “Jesus, do you know what those cost to operate? Maybe four grand an hour! Who is worth that?” I offered on the spot to buy the next year of his time for $5,000 an hour, as long as I got his profits in return. Sadly for me, he rethought his position. My favorite reply came from Warren Buffett. “That sort of prurient interest isn’t suitable for a youngster like you,” he said in a father-knows-best tone. Accepting the inevitable, as a good father should, he concluded, “but when you get it, I want a ride.” [...] Decorating a plane is even more wildly expensive than flying in one. No matter how outrageous you think a ground-based price is, wait until you try to put the stuff into a jet. Part of this is the genuine need to use special lightweight materials. Strict F.A.A. regulations also play a role. Mostly, however, it seems to be a way for the completion centers to take a rich guy for a ride even more expensive than he’ll get in his jet. People who have been in business a while tend to develop a good bullshit detector—a sixth sense that tells them when things do not add up. I fancy myself an expert in this arena, and count on it to see me through many tough situations—jets included. What I failed to realize is that my bullshit detector would be in constant alarm. Everything I heard told me I was being taken advantage of left, right, and center. It wasn’t a question of detecting bullshit—I was swimming neck deep in it. But you can’t fight it all, you have to prioritize.