The Crescat
… a few weeks ago I purchased a home in a rather affluent area. Not that I am affluent, mind you. Quite the opposite, just thrifty and working in real estate helps too. In fact, my home is the smallest for several miles around and the most modest. I bought it for the land and the location. It sits on 2.5 acres and backs up to a marsh preserve so I don’t have to worry about being molested by urban sprawl.
My home is an oasis, let me tell you, because the minute I go into town I am confronted by the most privileged and absolutely miserable people on the face of the Earth. And I’ve lived in DC and New York City.
For an entire suburb of people that have every desire and need met you’d think they could manage a little common courtesy. Instead, they fly through town in Jaguar’s, running red lights and flipping off pedestrians. They belittle store clerks and the elderly for driving too slow. Get out their way, they have places to go. They’re important you know.
I stood in line behind a man who couldn’t even muster eye contact with a local coffee barista and made her and the whole line wait while he took a phone call before completing his order. Later I saw him on the store’s patio sipping espresso and berating some local college kid for riding his bike on the sidewalk and not the designated bike path.
It’s a scary type of aggressive sense of entitlement. It goes beyond regular douche-bagggery run of the mill snobbery… it’s malice.
No body’s nice here. Yet they have everything. Million dollar homes on the Lake, private schools for their kids, the cleanest and most sought after communities, the best libraries… what recession? Yet, not a single person I have encountered in over a month has been the slightest bit pleasant.
To possess so much yet have so little to give. It certainly makes one grateful for what they don’t have.
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