Millionaires and Billionaires Shouldn't Exist

From my seat here, there is no part of me that believes millionaires and billionaires should exist.

Be prepared, we're going to get into some heavy math here.

Let's look at an example. A friend of mine is a power engineer for a Canadian-based oil and gas company. I've never directly asked him what his income is, but my sources say that a power engineer's average salary is $105,000 (source: Indeed Canada – Power Engineer Salary in Alberta, 2024).

Now, the CEO of this company makes $4.26 million in salary.

That means my friend's net income is: $75,909.74.

And the CEO's net income is: $2,248,639.13.

Now, keep those levels of compensation in mind when I tell you that I fully believe the CEO of this oil and gas company could take a year off, and that company would continue to run as if nothing was wrong. Yet if my friend and the other power engineers didn't show up for one day, that company's production would grind to a fucking halt.

So, from my chair, while I am sure the CEO does something at the company, in the grand scheme of the company's ultimate goal of production of bitumen, my friend and his fellow engineers are significantly more important to that production, and thus the generation of revenue for the company.

Now, do not get me wrong: I am not advocating for a C-Level employee making no money, or so little money that they cannot live comfortably. And that's the key here: comfortably.

And here's my overarching thesis: we should tax anything over $1 million at 90%. Hell, we could leave all the other tax rates the same, but anything over $1 million? 90% tax rate.

Let's do some more math.

Remember that CEO's $4.26 million gross salary, with their net income being $2,248,639.13? Well, if we taxed that $4.26 million under the tax scheme above—everything over $1 million taxed at 90%—their new net income would be: $879,439.13.

At the time of this writing, I am making $55,000 per year. That means my net income is $41,159.75. And I have to say, I am living quite comfortably. All my bills are being paid, and after expenses I still have a considerable amount left for spending. Sure, I would like to make more, but at the moment, I am comfortable.

There is no part of me whatsoever that believes the CEO could not live comfortably on $879,439.13. I bet you, dear reader, would LOVE to make $879,439.13. I would give up everything I own to make that income, because quite frankly, I could easily replace all my possessions with that kind of money.

I will absolutely concede that C-Level employees do "work" for the company, but I will not concede that the work they do requires making over $2.2 million after tax. Especially when you take into account that idea that the CEO could take a year off without any detriment to the company's ability to produce its product and generate revenue from its sale.

On the spectrum of importance to the production of the company's product, it seems to me that the workers are a little more important to the company than the CEO.

Again, I am not asking for C-Level employees to make nothing, or to live in poverty—no one should. But to ask me to accept a CEO making $4.26 million as a necessity is insane.

Let’s just be honest here: nobody needs $4.26 million a year. You don’t “need” a net income that could buy six houses a year in cash while there are workers down the hall splitting rent and bringing their own instant coffee to work.

We’ve spent the last few decades convincing ourselves that these outsized salaries are somehow justified—that they reflect “responsibility,” or “risk,” or “vision.” But here's the truth from where I sit: compensation this inflated is a rigged reward system. It’s not tied to contribution, effort, or necessity. It's tied to power. Full stop.

And that’s what this is really about—*balance*. If you want to make over a million dollars? Go right ahead. Knock yourself out. But you do not get to keep it all. Because you did not earn it alone.

The roads your trucks drive on, the schools that train your engineers, the hospitals that keep your workers healthy—those weren’t built by millionaires. They were built by taxes. Taxes from people like you, me, and my friend in the plant. And if you’re making millions off the collective infrastructure and effort of a whole society, you better be ready to give something real back.

So no, I’m not against wealth. I’m against hoarding. I’m against the delusion that the system works just fine as-is, that we can keep stretching the rubber band of inequality without it eventually snapping.

We should be designing a society where people who keep the lights on—sometimes literally—aren’t living paycheque to paycheque, while someone else makes more money in a day than that worker does in a year. Because when we start valuing comfort for everyone, instead of obscene luxury for a few, we’ll finally be building something sustainable.

Until then? Tax the damn millionaires.