Years ago, communists and conspiracy-theorists used to speak of a secret, underground bunker - probably near Geneva - where the captains of global capitalism would gather to rule by remote control. No one could prove that such a "button room" existed, but that just showed how devious these men were.
Now, Irish people must be wondering if the bunker is operational again. Just as the wealth of our professional classes soars, so market forces have intervened to deny access to what is rightfully theirs. For flashy cars, big houses, decent golf clubs, deluxe holidays and even ritzy restaurant reservations, all but the richest have to get in line, and wait.
Perhaps the button-room bosses took the view that the trappings of wealth were like handguns in the United States; there can be no way to know if the buyer is a responsible member of society or a hot-blooded fool, so there should be a built-in "cooling-off" period.
But for guns, the delay tends to be just a few days, a week at the most. The backlog for a range of high-end goods and services in the Republic can reach a barbaric and degrading 12 months.
Such is the case with the new Mercedes CLK. Ballsbridge Motors in Dublin and other luxury car dealers will break this news, then guide the sobbing, chequebook-clutching executive towards an E-Class Mercedes, where the waiting period can be as little as four months. At Maxwell Motors in Dublin, sales manager Mr Declan Murphy can get you a Rolls Royce, hand-made to your specifications; but if you order now you will not see the vehicle before September.
He and other motor industry professionals say the super-wealthy Irish hate to wait, and are often willing to pay more than the new price for a recent second-hand model in Britain or further afield.
Switching to the latest two-wheeled vehicle is unlikely to bring much solace. At Maddock Motor Cycles in Bray, orders are being taken for the new BMW C1 bike - the one with the roll-over bubble and the seat-belt - even though it will not actually reach Ireland until March 2000.
Bored waiting for a car to arrive? Fancy a holiday to pass the time? Think again. Neil Horgan of Abbey Travel says 15 per cent of his 1999 summer holidays were booked last August. As 1998 rolled on, so the options for this year's would-be holidaymakers were eroded. By the start of 1999, some of the best destinations were already unavailable at popular times.
"If you waltzed into us in January this year, you might have been disappointed. And unlike the Mercedes, which you will get if you wait, the holiday is gone until next year," he says.
Neither is there much point trying to idle the time away on the golf course. Membership at most golf clubs in the Dublin area is limited, and newcomers must wait until existing members die or leave.
At Beaverstown Golf Club, there may be as few as five vacated spots each year, and these are typically filled by existing "five-day" - or weekday - members. At Elm Park, there is no waiting list, hopefuls just have to reapply, year after year.
Some more cynical observers suggest the best way to get to the top of the queue is to become a "pavilion member", then generally hang around, cringing and fawning upon club officials whenever the chance presents itself.
At least that will get you out of the house, which may by now have become a cruel reminder of the inadequate level of supply. The larger estate agents all have lists of clients, waiting for houses on certain roads to become available. New houses can be had, but only ones that have not yet been built. You must pay a deposit, then wait.
Renovating your existing home may not be a smart move either. Trades-people are in such demand that for small jobs - that is, anything that is not a new housing estate - they can be hard to find.
Going out on the town to forget about it all is a fine idea, but not without careful planning. Most of the top restaurants are fully booked at the weekend, but if you are lucky, you might get onto the cancellation list.
And if you do get a reservation, order your taxi well in advance. . .
