You know whats Not on Roids, it’s the sheer, unadulterated audacity of the wealthy struggle. While the rest of us are playing a high-stakes game of Tetris with our bank accounts just to cover rent and daycare, there is a specific breed of human whose primary source of cortisol is a seating chart that isnt flowing correctly.
Let’s be clear: we are all stressed. But there is a vast, yawning canyon between I hope my engine doesnt explode on the way to work and I am distraught because the software on my smart-home system is glitching. One of these is a crisis; the other is a fancy new problem created by having too much money.
It is truly a marvel of the human psyche that when you remove the burden of survival, the brain simply fills that void with a curated list of luxury grievances. We’re talking about the kind of people who treat a waitlist for a boutique hotel or a specific surgeon like a human rights violation. Imagine the sheer mental gymnastics required to be genuinely aggrieved by the fact that you have to wait three weeks for something that costs more than my first car.
We are rolling our eyes so hard they’re practically orbiting our skulls. Most of us spend our days listening to our cars make a weird noise and praying its just a loose heat shield and not a four-figure repair bill. Meanwhile, the 1% are spiraling because their private jets catering menu lacks a specific artisanal goat cheese.
Money doesnt actually solve problems; it just trades the boring, stressful ones for fancy ones. Instead of worrying about whether the electricity will stay on, they worry about whether the lighting in their foyer is too aggressive. It is a special kind of torture to hear someone gripe about the logistics of a gala while youre calculating if you can afford the name-brand cereal this month. Please, tell me more about your seating chart drama while I contemplate the mysterious clunking sound coming from my transmission.
