WE shouldn’t be surprised by Mike Ashley. But still, I mean, wow.

On Monday, the Sportsdirect boss insisted he was keeping stores open in spite of government guidance that non-essential retailers should shut (he later backtracked); on Tuesday documents seen by PA News showed he planned to hike the cost of home exercise equipment online; and on Wednesday staff were still being told to come into work at empty shops. He’s now been told by the Prime Minister to obey the rules or “expect the consequences”.

A hot debate has raged all week over who is Britain’s worst billionaire boss and Ashley with his estimated wealth of around £2.3bn is cruising away at the front of the metaphorical pack, one hand on the wheel, the other flicking us all the finger.

But there are other nominees, including Wetherspoons boss Tim Martin (the half billionaire disgracefully indicated he would not pay thousands of staff until late April, before u-turning) and Richard Branson (MPs have called on him to use £6.4 million of his £3.8 billion fortune to pay Virgin Atlantic staff the statutory sick rate after they were told to take eight weeks’ unpaid leave).

People aren’t stupid. They get that companies shouldn’t bankrupt themselves during this crisis and that many can’t continue paying people as if nothing had changed. Some businesses are struggling for their very survival. Staff know that. They accept that we all have to take some of the pain.

But these titanically wealthy people who can afford to take more of the pain seem unwilling to do so. And that makes people angry.

History shows that national crises precipitate radical change and this one won’t be any different. There was already deep disquiet before this emergency about the gig economy and the millions in low paid, insecure employment. Those workers are now in the frontline of keeping the country going. Public disgust at how some have been treated could propel us towards a post-crisis reckoning and moves to ensure a fairer division of commercial spoils. It certainly should.

This a sort of moral shakedown. Comparisons with wartime are a little insulting to populations who have lived through bombing raids (though probably apt for some medical staff); nevertheless, in a similar way, this is a universal test not just of our ability to cope, but our capacity for altruism. Most people are doing their bit, which makes the ruthlessness of the others more keenly felt.

Tim Martin didn’t seem to want to do his bit. It’s worth noting that though the prominent Brexiter may be hated by many Remainers, before this week he was held in high regard by many of his staff. But it appears that beneath the bluff Spanish-expat demeanour lurks the dispassionate heart of a Brylcreemed tycoon.

On Tuesday, he abruptly informed 40,000 staff they could consider getting a job in Tesco.

Workers reacted first with incredulity and then with anger as realisation sank in that the company seemed to be refusing to pay them for five weeks until the Government’s job retention scheme kicks in. (That is even though the scheme is backdated, to reassure businesses that they will be reimbursed.) No cash for rent, food and bills.

A surge in the company’s share price apparently explained what was going on: their pay had been sacrificed to keep shareholders happy.

The fact that Mr Martin has now agreed to pay workers during the intervening period is down to those who protested against his actions, such as the Business, Economy and Industrial Strategy Select Committee chair Rachel Reeves MP, who ordered him to come forward with a plan by Friday (she demanded the same of Mr Ashley).

A free market economist would no doubt condescend to explain that though these individuals are rich, they can’t be expected to step in to help employees with their own money since even half a billion quid is not really much money in the grand scheme of megabucks business.

This really is such tosh. So many workers keep going financially only from one week to the next, toiling for bosses who are unimaginably wealthy. To someone for whom £30 could be the difference between eating and heating or going hungry and cold, even £10,000 is all the riches of the universe. You could fit £10,000 in handbag; these people possess the sort of wealth you would need a lorry to move. (You really would: £1bn in £50 notes would be 2.7km high if stacked in a pile, or fill 24 square metres. Richard Branson would need an articulated lorry for his.)

No one expects Tim Martin or Mike Ashley to become St Francis of Assisi, but you could fund a pretty useful hardship fund for your employees with a fraction of their wealth.

Why on earth don’t they do it?

They are the beneficiaries of a rigged system. Trickle-down economics, the theory that if you deregulate and cut taxes to the wealthy then it will boost economic growth benefiting everyone, has been comprehensively discredited after decades of growing inequality.

The architect of New Labour, Peter Mandelson, remarked in 1998 that he was “intensely relaxed about people getting filthy rich as long as they pay their taxes”, but of course the truth is that the very wealthy tend to hold their money close.

People are fed up with unfairness. Some have turned to socialism; others voted for Brexit as a demand for change. This crisis is likely to increase those demands.

There are striking parallels between the 20 years preceding the Second World World and the first 20 years of this century. In the early 1920s, there was prosperity followed by a crash and a slow, painful recovery in the 1930s before war broke out. Boom, crash, slow recovery, second crisis, much like today.

At the end of the war, returning servicemen demanded a fairer deal, refusing to put up with the hardship that had blighted the 1930s.

Today’s army of low-paid workers, many on insecure contracts, who are keeping the country going with care work, shelf-stacking and delivery driving, may well demand another upgrade to the social contract and they will have widespread support from a grateful public in doing so.

After the Second World War came the NHS. Perhaps one good to come out of this emergency will be a more equitable economic relationship between the bosses and the bossed.

Virgin has announced a $250m investment into its affected businesses. In his first blog on the crisis, Richard wrote “We are supporting our people and our businesses in their fight for survival in numerous ways. We are providing a quarter of billion dollars over the next weeks and months to protect them and save jobs - that is likely just the start.”.