Rich people look so… bored.
But let me back up for a second.
I’m sitting in a relatively upscale cafe, sipping a delicious drink (hint: it has boba in it), reading a book, and — all-in-all — doing my very best to avoid the internet.
It is a Monday.
As I look around, all I see are bored, tired faces, immersed in their phones, and gazing around, even though they’re with someone. They look like they don’t want to be here. Or like they want something better.
Couples sit in silence. Customers complain. What a stark juxtaposition.
Because, 100 yards away, are the slums.
On my way to this cafe (and I’m probably giving away the location), you have to trek through the worst, most-depressed parts of Los Angeles. Homeless people everywhere. Squalor everywhere. Buildings abandoned years ago. Graffiti. Broken glass.
And broken dreams.
Yet, all I see in this cafe are “searching eyes” — always hunting for something more. Yet perhaps it’s the search that kills us: it’s the search that exhausts us and creates tension and uneasiness within. Because once we (or they) get our riches, we can’t enjoy it.
We’re still too busy.
Is this what the Buddhists and Stoics warned us of?
Still, in many cultures, we value success. But what is success? More dross? Less empathy? A skewed perception of what is good and what is good enough?
Perhaps. But you can’t fool yourself forever. It’s like the salad oil fiasco or the antifreeze scandal — if you construct something on poor foundations, it will fall. So what can we do? And what can I do if I’m complaining about it?
I don’t really know.
Sorry dude, but it’s the harsh truth. There’s no right answer; that’s up to you to decide, but I can venture a guess:
The table next to me just left and left their uneaten bits of lasagna, salad, and bread. Soon, a happy bird entered. “Jackpot!” I thought. It grabbed a shred of salad and flew off. I looked up and saw a woman watching the same scene and we shared a smile.
Maybe because we saw what the other busy people missed.
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