There is a rumor in my family that we are related to the Hiltons. You know, Conrad Hilton. Be My Guest. My granddaughter has issues. Those Hiltons. My paternal grandparents use to boast this to company, while my mom rolled her eyes in the background. "They're not even related by blood," my mom would secretly scoff to us children.
Whatever the truth may be, I like to think that I am related to the Hiltons. And I like to think that this is the reason why I am not phased in the slightest by wealth.
Which may explain one of the reasons that I am not impressed by my boss.
I mean, he's only a millionaire. I know that I am merely a child of the middle class, but please---millionaires are a dime a dozen these days, right?
I'd also like to mention that my boss is not the nicest of people. He is racist homophobe who subscribes to Christianity. He chew people out using four letter words, with the rage of a temper tantrum throwing two year old. And as an English major, "F*** You's" and "NO SH**" seem very blase.
Whenever he uses these choice words with me, I simply remind myself that he may have millions but I have something that he doesn't have---a college degree.
I usually remind myself of this when I am in my car, on my lunch break, bawling my eyes out.
I have gone through a lot of klenex in the past few months.
Maybe it's depression. Maybe it's me feeling sorry for myself.
Whatever it is, I need to figure it out.
Oh snizzz. I was suppose to make a doctor's appointment.