To be privileged enough to not be born into the depths of destitution is a wonderful blessing. Free of pangs of hunger. Exempt from the humility of begging just to get by. And free from an early death. Whether it be from hunger or disease from the unsanitary streets of Equestria. Luckily for Lightning Rod he was free of all these worries.
Born into a privileged household Lightning Rod inherited a multitude of things. His father's blue mane, his mother's white coat, and a cutie mark depicting a Mayor's top hat. Not to mention a large mansion with 10 acres of land, a well-paying job as mayor of Baltimare and a fortune of 500,000 bits. All for one stallion. But how to spend it all?
That day Lightning trotted across Baltimare. First viewing the splendid lights of the finer areas of Baltimare. And smiling at the casinos, muttering his congratulations to the owners of such a fine establishment. Next he studied the streets. Clean, tidy, and bustling with carriages. And he was on his way.
When he reached the industrial district he beamed with pride. The factory workers pumped in and out of the large factory. Some starting their shifts and others leaving for home. It was outside the factory that Lightning stopped one of the workers.
“Good day Sir Mayor.” The worker said stiffly and without a smile.
Lightning smiled, “Yes, good day to you as well sir.” Lightning paused and looked at the worker. He was an earth pony. Thin from malnourishment, and streaks of black soot from the factories lined his muzzle, “Do you enjoy your job sir?” Lightning asked.
The worker stared at him. Confused, “Of course not. You can see me can’t you? Skin tight on my bones. Working 14 hours a day for 14 bits a week. Mayor I’m sure you know where I stand on my job.” The worker finished.
Lightning nodded, “Very well then. Please expect a consequence tomorrow on your behavior.” And with that Lightning bowed and was on his way.
Finally Lightning reached the poorer district. There was nothing to study here. A dilapidated hospital that looked as if it could only fit 15 ponies in it. Houses that looked so fragile that if the wind so much as blew the wrong way everything would crumble. Colts and fillies rummaging through gutters and piles of trash strewn throughout the cracked streets.
The scene disgusted him. A place of wretchedness and inadequacy compared to that of his home. Lightning left at once.
***
When Lightning had returned home it was already dark. When Lightning opened the grand wooden doors into the large entry way his servant greeted him, “Good evening Mister Mayor.” The servant said with a bow.
Lightning did not bow in response, “Evening to you as well.” Lightning said, while using his magic to put his coat on the rack to his left.
“May I get you anything?” The servant asked.
“No I’m quite alright. But I would like to be alone for a while in my office for about an hour.”
“Of course sir.” The servant answered.
And so Lightning left his servant without another word. Lightning scaled the marble steps up to his office, locking the door behind him. The room was a marvelous sight. A polished wooden desk sits in the center of the room. Adorned with a miniature statue of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna standing proudly together. To either side of the desk were two bookshelves filled with books of law.
Lightning sat down at the desk and levitated a quill and ink bottle to himself. Then from a drawer at his desk brought out a piece of parchment and went to work. Ready to give the worker the consequence to his actions.
***
The next day the overstallion at the factory received a letter from the mayor. With deft hooves he opened it. Finding a handwritten piece of parchment.
To whom it may concern,
Yesterday it would seem that one of your sheep has stepped out of line. Apparently he is not happy with the state of his working hours or the pay wage of 14 bits a week. A sheep cannot step out of line. Lest the other sheep follow. But. If a sheep is to stray from his master than it must be for good reason. And with every action comes a consequence. So the consequence to this worker’s action is double the weekly pay. As mayor of Baltimare I say that every worker (including the overstallion/overmare.) be granted 28 bits a week. And rather than 14 hours maximum the work day is to be cut to a maximum of 10 hours a day. Hopefully this will alleviate the anger boiling within the workers and myself.
Warmest regards,
Mayor Lightning Rod
Later that day an architect from the poorer district was visited by the mayor on regards of construction on the Mayor’s land.
“How much will this cost me?” Lightning asked as the architect drew the designs with a piece of charcoal.
“Usually 100 bits. But for the mayor…50 bits.” The architect said with a forced smile.
Lightning was taken aback, “What!?” He exclaimed, “A measly 100 bits? No that will be no good. What do you say to…5,000 bits?” The mayor asked with a warm grin.
The architect stayed quiet, unbelieving, “Mr. Mayor. Are you serious?” The architect asked.
The mayor nodded, “Yes I am very serious.” The mayor retorted.
The architect lunged at the Mayor, “Mister Mayor! Nopony has ever given me this many bits in my life!” The architect exclaimed while hugging the mayor in an iron grip.
When the architect released him the Mayor bowed and was on his way back home.
***
Once again he sat in his chair and wrote his expenses for the year. Keeping in mind the 100,000 bits he received yearly and the 500,000 bits he had from his mother and father. These were his expenses.
Yearly Expenses.
On the construction of a hospital for the poor- 50,000 Bits
To the betterment of the less fortunate- 20,000 Bits.
To the local orphanages- 15,000 Bits
To the creation of free soup kitchens- 25,000 Bits
To the construction of a new factory, in the hope of increasing employment- 50,000 Bits.
To the creation of public schools for both the poor and the wealthy, for grades K-12- 30,000 Bits
To the advancement of conditions and recreational activities in prisons- 35,000 Bits.
To the poor- 60,000 Bits
Personal expenses- 315,000 Bits.
When Lightning asked for his servant to proofread he had this to say, “Sir. Money does not grow on trees. Perhaps devote less money to the poor and more to yourself for personal interests?” The servant asked.
The mayor stomped his hooves happily, “Yes! You’re right! Personal expenses yes!” The mayor shooed his servant away.
Later that day the servant stood at the door. Stoic, prepared for any guests to arrive. To his surprise 15 moving ponies came to the door, bringing with them beds and cabinets full of medicine.
The servant stood there. Mouth agape. As more ponies trickled in. Ponies with maladies, and ponies ready to care for them. All equipped with the finest medical equipment available. When the servant counted 75 ponies he quickly galloped to the mayor’s office and flung the door open.
The servant stood. Shocked. All the furniture had disappeared. Vanished. Nothing remained. The mayor stood in the center of the room where the desk would have been and waved his hoof to his servant.
“May….Mayor! The…The furniture! The ponies downstairs they-”
“Here.” The mayor cut off the servant. As the mayor levitated to him another piece of parchment, “That should answer your questions. Now if you’ll excuse me I must greet our new guests.” The mayor said, and trotted away with dignity.
The servant squinted at the parchment and read.
Personal Expenses
To the construction of roads in the poor districts- 75,000 Bits
The fitting of my home into a temporary hospital while the new hospital is constructed- 50,000 Bits
Medicine- 15,000 Bits
In the event that a patient dies, funeral expenses per pony- 25,000 Bits (Subject to change.)
For myself- 150,000 Bits.
And that was how Lightning Rod managed his money.