5:00 PM: Saturday night respite mode activated. Remove daytime garb of black polo shirt, jeans, aviator sunglasses, and Jeff Bezos nametag. Don evening garb of silk pajamas, genuine black rhino hide slippers, lime green shutter shades, and Jeff “The Emperor” Bezos nametag.
5:02–5:02.03 PM: Drop down through walk-in closet floor hatch, landing in Saturday Night Fever disco pose in the Affirmation Chamber.
5:02.03–5:03.50 PM: Slide in front of floor-to-ceiling mirror and scream the Evening Affirmation: “My thirst is unquenchable. I am the economy. I will never die.”
5:03.50–5:05 PM: Punch floor-to-ceiling mirror, shattering it into a million pieces. Pinch bridge of nose and take a few deep breaths.
5:05–5:05.10 PM: Drop down through the Affirmation Chamber floor hatch, landing in the Virtual Reality Room.
5:05.10–5:05.40 PM: Don VR headset. Command, “Alexa, activate ‘J.B. Fantasies.’”
5:05.40–5:15 PM: First VR scenario launched. A steady stream of Amazon warehouse workers cycle by, asking for humble $2 raises to feed their families. Each time a raise is requested, pause and feign thoughtful consideration. Then, after executing a 360-degree spin on one foot, exclaim in a sing-song voice whilst doing jazz hands, “Nooooope!” Repeat 86 times.
5:15–5:35 PM: Second VR scenario launched. Bird’s eye view of Seattle. The air is thick with Amazon delivery drones. Every plane in the sky is branded with Amazon Air. The city is surrounded by 10G LTE Amazon cell towers. 98% of the population sports an Amazon nametag. The Starbucks logo has been replaced with the Amazon smile and now reads “Starbezos.” Grip VR headset and simply observe this beatific vision of perfection for twenty minutes.
5:35–5:45 PM: Third VR scenario launched. Mike Bezos sits in an audience, clapping. “I’m proud of you, son,” says the man. “I’m so proud of you.” Remove headset, shaking. As single tear rolls down cheek, whisper: “Alexa… off.”
5:45–5:45.10 PM: Drop down through the Virtual Reality Room floor hatch, landing in Fighter Stance in the Home Gym.
5:45.10–5:45.20 PM: Command, “Alexa, play ‘Workout Vibes.’”
5:45.20–6:47 PM: Sigh with pleasure as satanic German death metal booms from surround sound system. Strip naked, except for shutter shades. Stand with back turned to full-length mirror. Flex left butt cheek, then right butt cheek. Do this for one hour.
6:47–6:47.10 PM: Drop down through home gym floor hatch, landing in massive tank teeming with saltwater crocodiles.
6:47.10–7:00 PM: Smirk with satisfaction as the crocodiles, sensing the presence of an alpha, cower in fear. Begin spinning underwater — slowly at first, but then so fast that a whirlpool begins to form; a whirlpool so strong that the crocodiles are swept up in its pull. Smile deviously from center of saltwater crocodile whirlpool for exactly thirteen minutes. Require no breath.
7:00–7:02 PM: Eject self from tank. Dry off. Remain naked. (Except for shutter shades.)
7:02–7:02.30 PM: Dinner time. Consume one raw, bloodied lamb haunch and one jug of Amazonian warehouse workers’ tears in thirty seconds flat.
7:02.30–7:04.30 PM: Release single, two-minute-long burp.
7:04.30–7:04.40 PM: Drop down through dining room floor hatch, landing in Yogi pose on velvet pouf.
7:04.40–7:05 PM: Command, “Alexa, activate guided meditation session.”
7:05–7:50 PM: Begin guided meditation. Feel wave after wave of unadulterated calm course through body as Alexa repeats “Customer satisfaction over workers’ rights, bitch” for 45 minutes straight.
7:50–7:50.30 PM: Take high-speed elevator up to master bedroom.
7:50.30–8:00 PM: Lie down on California king and pull out phone. Record new voicemail message: “You’ve reached Jeff Bezos, the richest man in the known universe. I make six figures every minute. I have no interest in what you have to say. Do not leave me a message. Goodbye.”
8:00–8:00.30 PM: Open Voice Memos app. Record, “Prime Original idea: Amazon reboot of The Lord of the Rings except I play all the hot characters.”
8:00.30–8:07 PM: Refresh Amazon stock on the NASDAQ. Shriek in unadulterated exultation. Print out web page. Shred it. Snort it.
8:07–8:07.20 PM: Jesus Christ. What a rush. Scream, “Alexa, play ‘Dance (A$$)’ by Big Sean and Nicki Minaj.”
8:07.20–8:59 PM: Perform stiff, robotic twerk for 52 minutes. While twerking, fire every Amazon worker who has ever mentioned the word “union” in a text, call, or internet search.
9:00 PM: Slumber mode activated. Fall asleep immediately, with eyes wide open and one hand wrapped tightly around an etch-a-sketch knob, writing, erasing, and rewriting the word “trillions” over, and over, and over again.
For an exclusive look at Jeff’s Saturday morning routine, check out the prequel: