I find it incredibly difficult to have sympathy for people who complain about the following things:

*How dreadfully long the drive is to their summer home in the Hamptons.

*The fact that their new Jaguar is not a convertible. For if it was, they could enjoy the long commute to their home in the Hamptons ever SO much more.

*The fact that they MUST throw a huge soiree at their beach house for 200 of their closest friends. You see, they’ve been doing it ever since they began summering in the Country, and now it’s expected of them.

I (over)heard all of this while waiting for one of my superiors to get off the phone. This boss o’ mine called me into his office to see him, and asked me to sit down. He then proceeded to call his wife, or friend, or buddy, or whatever, therefore forcing me to listen to the entire conversation. He does this all the time. These overheard conversations are always regarding his fancy home, fancy car, fancy beach house, fancy vacation, etc. etc. Obviously I’m supposed to be impressed by his lavish lifestyle. After he hung up the phone, he then waited for some sort of sign from me acknowledging how in awe I was about what I had heard. “Can you believe it,” he asked, “I have to wait until 3pm tomorrow for the garage to finish detailing my Jag. This means I won’t get to the Hamptons until AFTER dark." "I’ll probably miss cocktail hour,” he said with a panicked look on his face. I gave him a blank stare and said something to the effect of, “That DOES stink.” What I really wanted to say was, “Oh yes. I completely understand. Just yesterday I was delayed almost 30 minutes on the A train while the authorities were searching for a criminal. I almost didn’t make it home in time to scrape together enough money for a pint of Bud at the dive bar down the street. I can totally relate.”