My House, My Car, My God Please Shutup

The superiors in my office enjoy discussing their latest financial adventures amongst themselves but within earshot of subordinates. Gentleman, your salaries and stock options are listed in the annual report. Don't rub salt in the wound, especially during cutbacks on styrofoam cups and plastic forks in order to "Go Green!".

A jury of your lower-income peers would conclude Justifiable Homicide if our overweight secretary (who has not received a raise in three years) stabbed all of you with her scissors. Actually, there have also been cutbacks on office supplies. She'd probably have to stab all of you with a fork she brought from home. As long as it's not during her lunch hour, that girl can flat-out chow.

"We're going to knock it down and build our dream home."

The discussion among the high-level execs always begins with harmless mention of either 1) their home, 2) addition to their home or 3) addition to the addition of their home. The conversation slowly begins to ante up and a verbal poker game ensues to ensure that everyone is keeping up the Jones's.

Exec 1

I'm thinking about buying a new car.

Exec 2

You're thinking about buying a new car? I just bought a Rolls Royce.

Exec 3

You just bought a Rolls Royce? I just bought a Bugatti Veyron.

Exec 4

You just bought a Veyron? I just bought the world. Rock beats scissors, paper covers rock, and owning the world beats a Bugatti Veyron.

Exec 1

SSSSSSS, you just got burned!

The executives disperse and go to a meeting they scheduled at The Palms but can't remember why.

"Enough about my car. What do you think of my car?"

So to all the C-level executives reading my blog (what's zero times zero?) Please keep in mind that conversation about your excesses cuts to the bone of underpaid and overperforming employees. And if you find a fat woman clenching her own fork while running towards you yelling "Mutha' F*cka!", you've shot your mouth off a little too much.