Scene: A Walk Through Memory Lane — and the Game of Life
Joe and Nelly sit on a checkered picnic blanket in a Vancouver park. A cool breeze carries distant sounds of children playing. Spread before them is a retro copy of the board game “The Game of Life,” its tiny plastic cars, spinner, and pastel-colored Life tiles faded with age but still intact.
JOE:
You remember this, Nells? [He flicks the spinner.] The Game of Life. God, we used to think this thing actually meant something. Go to college. Get a career. Spin your way to retirement like it’s all just steps on a board.
NELLY:
I always picked Superstar. Duh. [Grins.] Or fashion designer. I liked the pink salary cards.
JOE:
Yeah, and I always avoided the Superstar card like it was a trap. Still do. I didn’t want the house on the hill, or to find uranium and strike it rich like some Cold War tycoon.
NELLY:
So what did you want?
JOE:
I wanted to be the guy who got everyone their retirement money. The guy who fixed the game — not gamed the system.
NELLY:
You mean, like a financial advisor?
JOE:
No. I mean like a hero. A mythological figure with a calculator and a conscience. I wanted to crack the RRSP matrix and stop the Ponzi pyramid before it collapsed on our parents — or worse, on us.
NELLY:
You think it’s that bad?
JOE:
It’s worse. Canadian RRSPs are a slow-motion collapse. A polite con. The government dangles tax breaks, the banks rake in fees, and most Canadians never cash out enough to retire with dignity. They’re told to save more, invest smarter, delay dreams — while inflation eats the ladder out from under them.
NELLY:
So what’s the plan, Joe? Burn it all down?
JOE:
No, I’m not Bane. I’m not trying to blow up Bay Street. I’m just saying… maybe it’s time for a new game. One where you don’t spin a wheel and hope you land on a pension. One where the win condition isn’t “Die with the most assets,” but “Did your people thrive?”
NELLY:
Wow.
So… no Superstar track?
JOE:
Nope. Let the influencers and uranium hunters have their day. Me? I want to write the new rules. A Game of Life 2.0 — where the real jackpot is dignity at 65 and peace of mind at night.
NELLY:
That’s kinda sexy, actually.
JOE:
Only kinda?
[They laugh. The spinner clacks again, but neither of them looks at it.]