One hundred million is a big number. Oh, it’s not as big as one billion or one trillion or one bazillion but it’s definitely bigger than eleven million or twenty-five million or, for that matter, ninety-nine million, nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-seven other numbers.
One hundred million looks a lot bigger when you write it out in numerals. 100,000,000. See what I mean? Add a dollar sign to it and it looks even bigger: $100,000,000. How would you like to open your bank statement and see that as your account balance? How about your Visa bill? Obviously the former would make you a lot happier than the latter.
You could do a lot of things with one hundred million dollars. Hell, you could do just about anything you could think of with one hundred million dollars. You could buy every home advertised on the back page of Pique and still have enough dough left over to buy the most outlandishly over-priced furniture you could find to fill each one… and still have more left over than you’ve ever really dreamed of having to start with.
You could invite all your friends to dinner at La Rúa every night for a year, pay Mario to keep the rest of the riff-raff out so you could have the place to yourselves, drink the best wine he has in his cellar, fill the finger bowls with Dom, light cigars with thousand dollar bills and at the end of the year you’d still have almost one hundred million dollars left because you’d have barely spent more than the interest you’d made on it if you invested it in Government of Canada bonds.
You could buy 333 average Canadian homes. Which would raise serious questions about your sanity since you’d be the only hundred millionaire buying average Canadian homes.
Since you’d want to live on the Left Coast, you could buy 192 average Vancouver homes… or the most expensive home available in British Columbia, which would be more in keeping with your profligate lifestlye.
You could buy almost 400 Whistler Housing Authority houses, which you might have to if they keep going up in price to the point where the people on the wait list can’t afford to buy them.
If you were burdened with a monk’s distrust of wealth and a heart of gold, you could keep one of those starving orphans – the ones that only cost $20 a day to feed, clothe and shelter – alive for 13,698 years. Of course, it would make more sense to keep 13,698 of them alive for one year, although that would seem a bit cruel when the anniversary date rolls around.