Hey, in my continuing quest to describe all the jobs I’ve ever had, I’d like to present you with (drumroll) my next job: namely, my ongoing quest to describe every kind of person in the world.
Okay, up next—Rich assholes who have it all figured out.
These guys say shit like, ‘man, you just gotta stay true to what you believe in, and shit will work out.’ Oh really? Why’s that? Because it did for you? Look, there’s nothing worse than some dick who just happens to have hit all the green lights in life waxing philosophical about how life needs to be lived. Life is luck, man. It has almost nothing to do with hard work, dedication or believing in yourself. If it did, Mozart, Goodyear, Van Gogh, Bulgakov etc etc, would have died in luxury hospitals instead of, you know, wherever it is they died… My point is that for every guy who just ‘sticks it out, stays the course, wocka wocka wocka’ and becomes successful there is not only a guy who does the exact same shit, just as well or better who did just as much work (we’ll get into this in a second) and didn’t succeed, but there’s also a guy who didn’t stay the course, didn’t stick it out, and is even MORE successful. There’s no fucking recipe, you smug rich asshole who has it all figured out! You just got lucky. Sure, you can make luck by working hard, you can make luck by being dedicated, but you know what? Luck also passes the dedicated by and lands in the laps of the mouth breathing mongaloids too.
Take Nichole Ritchie. She’s fucking adopted for fucks sake! This bitch is so lucky it’s ridiculous. She got adopted by lionel Ritchie, got cast as a sidekick on some reality show even though she’s not particularly good looking or talented, parlayed that into public appearance fees and now I know the name of her fucking daughter because she’s got this life of joy and leisure where she skips around in the park and US Weekly takes pictures and they fucking pay her for it. Her fucking trajectory is astounding. She is not empirically good at anything at all. She was born to live in a trailer home, fuck her cousins and be on a first name basis with planned parenthood’s receptionist. Instead, her new dad sang her “dancing on the ceiling’ every morning while she got ready over a gold sink. AND NOW, she’s got her own gold sink! Why? Oh, no reason in particular. Just luck.
The thing is though, she’ll be the first to tell you that she’s worked very hard to get where she is. Everyone with any success says this. Oh, it wasn’t easy. I had to work hard to get where I am today. That’s what separated me was my hard work.” This is a ubiquitous mantra of a successful person, whether they’re an actual hard worker (Howard Stern) or have absolutely no idea what hard work is (Ashlee Simpson-Wentz [nice name by the way]). BUT, here’s the thing that none of these dipshits realize. Nothing motivates like success. They don’t know what real hard work is, because real hard work is done against insurmountable odds. Real hard work is toiling in the face of no reward, no potential for advancement. I mean, what? Did they have some late nights? Dealt with meanies? Lifted some heavy stuff? Boo hoo. They were climbing a ladder the entire time. Fat Mike can discuss how impossibly hard his band worked to get where they are, and they did, BUT they were constantly being rewarded with bigger shows, more money etc etc. This is the same idea in any realm of business, not just entertainment. Tell the guy who cleans the blood out of the organ vat at the slaughter house that you worked hard to get where you are, Real Estate Mogul. See how much empathy he gives you.
Now, and this is the most aggravating, most of these fucking people say things like “well, who needs money anyway? I just want to be happy.” I need money. I do. And you know what? Yeah, I’m pretty happy without it, but I’d be a zillion fucking times happier with it. Thanks, millionaire, for the totally awesome and relaxed guide to peace and harmony, but you’re neglecting to understand that you already have money and that’s why you see it as irrelevant. It’s the same reason that Robert Redford never worried about being bald and Ashton Kutcher doesn’t worry about being short. Just because it’s not relevant to you doesn’t mean that it’s not relevant.
So, in conclusion, rich assholes who have it all figured out are a lot like Michael Scott in that episode of the office where he finds out that his branch is the most successful and when asked why, he just kind of starts talking. He has no idea. It’s luck. These assholes have no more insight than any of us. Our balls are in your court, so to speak.
Okay, off to my dumb job. xoxox