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In the nineties I met a young man walking the neighborhood handing out campaign literature. He was running for office. He was renting an apartment in a concrete walk up a few blocks from me and driving a regular car that he bought used. Eventually he won the office he was seeking, still in his twenties. He did good work in office but he seemed pretty flaky when it came to dealing with constituents. He didn't like to write letters when he was supposed to, etc. Along the way he had decided there was something wrong with me, and stopped communicating with me. When I sat on a board, he avoided dealing with me.
He ran for a national office several times but he didn't win. He married and had two children. He headed a non-profit but seemed to be on leave of absence mostly, due to the births of two children. Then he ran for the second highest office in this region and won. That job must pay a hundred or two hundred thousand dollars a year. He must live in a nice house and all that. I still live in the same studio apartment I did when I met him. I'm smarter than he is. I can see his former building from my windows.
On that same street, in another small apartment in a concrete walk up, the person who is the head of state of my country once lived. He is one year older than me and was born at the same hospital. Our parents worked for the same employer. He went to the same high school, although I wasn't aware of him then. I'm smarter than him too. I can see that high school, and that hospital, from my window. He holds the highest office in the land. I have to ask my mother for money for food and medicine and I'm not sure what she will say.
About a week ago our highest national representative died. He held a position of immense power and influence. Although he named another as his chosen successor, the politician I met walking my neighborhood has been appointed to take over this office. He will head a staff of a hundred people. People were kind of surprised by the decision and the machinations behind it. Nevertheless, yesterday afternoon the politician was named to the highest national office from our region. He is not yet forty years old.
I was just done processing this when the news said the politician was on the head of state's private plane, hitching a ride to the capital. He must be a quick packer. It was less than eight hours after he was appointed. I watched the head of state bound up the stairs to the plane and I was mainly jealous of what good shape he was in and how he can climb stairs. Wish I could. Today the politician was already sworn into his new office. Quick work. And he was on the crawl on CNN.
Looking for a word for what I'm feeling. Sorrow at another's success. Reverse Schadenfreude. I'm surprised the German's don't have word for this.
What did I do wrong?
