Are you like me, folks? Does your cup overfloweth with sweet, sweet dollars? Then you probably understand how hard it is for people like us, who have all of this money. Recently, I was taken by the shoulders and violently shaken after discovering that not everyone understands the curse of the affluent.
A friend of mine scoffed at the idea and ridiculed me for being spoilt…SPOILT! Can you believe it? In light of this, I spoke with the hard working people at The Hip Pocket. They were most accommodating and subsequently granted me the opportunity to share my plight so as to educate you all.
Being rich is hard. Believe it or not, there is a downside. It’s easy to fixate purely on the positives; the houses, the cars, the boat shoes, never thinking twice about the “add guacamole” option. But like all things, there is a flipside… let me try to explain.
Have you ever left a tip at a restaurant or at your favourite cigar lounge? I have. In fact, it’s expected of me. Not only do I have to leave a tip for services rendered, but it has to be an “appropriate amount” comparative to my wealth.
I suffer from ‘Gratuity Anxiety’ now as a result. I’m too scared to eat at the same restaurant twice in case my tip wasn’t deemed sufficient the first time around – oh, the humanity!
Talk about highway robbery! I work darn hard for my seven figure income only to have the taxman reach into my pocket and make off with a sizeable chunk of my hard earned. Disgraceful. Does the taxation department have any idea how expensive the suits I’m expected to wear are?
Luckily, a close friend of mine, David Cameron, came to my aid. He knew a guy who ended up saving me an absolute bundle on tax. I never got the chance to meet him to say thank you, but David kept referring to him as Mossack “Fonz” Fonseca. But despite my efforts, I couldn’t locate him on Facebook.
David, of course, wouldn’t allow me to repay the favour, so I arranged for his kindly mother to transfer some pocket change to him on my behalf as a thank you. Nothing major, just two small payments of £100,000. It’s certainly lucky that people in my income bracket are able to make use of these services with no consequences whatsoever.
Purchasing gifts is a nightmare. Sure, I gave David Cameron £200,000, but he saved me a tonne of money. Any other gift-worthy occasion is nothing short of an ordeal. When the lower classes give each other gifts, they bring a cube of beer, a box of wine flavoured drink or a variety of beef jerky.
However, amongst the wealthy, things are different. For a gift to be accepted, you have to spend a small fortune. When I went to a dinner party held by Mitt Romney, I gave him a couch. When I went to Donald Trump’s book launch, I gifted him some printer ink. So imagine the outrage I caused when all I gave Barry O’Farrell was a bottle of wine! I was humiliated.
Apparently, it even made the news. I was too ashamed to read about it, but I think the main point was that it only cost $3,000.
So to all you folks out there who feel you’re entitled to berate and demean people like me just because I’m rich, maybe from now on you’ll remember our struggle and think twice. #EqualityForAll