The Lament of the Wealthy Liberal
Grab a tissue, it’s crying time
When I worked as a creative director for a fancy advertising agency, I got used to making seven figures, traveling first class, and living in five-star hotels.
I didn’t have time to think about climate justice or other unpaid philosophical topics back then because I was too busy making money.
It was a good life, but I got tired of working.
After negotiating my exit and landing nicely, thanks to my golden parachute, I have plenty of time to share my moral lessons with others.
And I have plenty of lessons too! Now that I’m unemployed, I know the hardships of life first-hand
I cannot invoice my expenses anymore, and I had to downgrade myself to business class. It’s a nightmare back there. I have no idea how people can travel in such small seats and keep smiling during the flight.
And I’m not even talking about economy class.
I wish I didn’t know that existed.
Thank God and my overpaying former clients, I have the lifetime platinum partner status at the Hilton, and they systematically upgrade me. (Or I would have to stay home.)
