Have you been this way your whole life? Do you really have to one-up everyone? Didn’t you ever want to just say What The Fuck? Because your resume is the most obnoxious thing I’ve ever seen.
Good on paper. That’s what you are, and I’m sure you’re very fucking proud of it. You’ve stuck it out, worked hard, graduated, earned accolades and over-achieved. And while you were busy doing this, I was shooting stick in all-night pool halls is San Francisco and livin’ it up like a normal person in their 20’s. I may have been the waitress to serve you and your preppy buddies cocktails at happy hour, but at least I never had to set my alarm to get up before dawn. Anyway, you pretty much paid my rent. Thank you for spending a fortune on a college degree in economics, going to work every day, getting all bent out of shape at the office, only to find yourself drowning in bottles of Anchor Steam so I could live off your tips. Thank you.
What I really don’t appreciate is your stupid name. Change it. Unless you already changed it from something normal to what it is now. Then I just give up. You apparently don’t know how lame it sounds. I’ve learned there’s nothing whatsoever wrong with a normal name. People feel like they can trust me. I can tell.
And here’s some more advice: Thanks a ton for snagging the job I wanted, the one you don’t even need, because you obviously are going through some kind of existential mid-life bullshit and you think this is the solution. (I know that’s not really advice, but it could be.) I’m the little guy (or chick, I guess), the worker among workers, the 99%. Take your fancy degree, and your BMW, and your winning “I’m signed by Wilhelmina” smile, and go away. I’m sick of you and your stuck-up friends. I’d wish you good luck with the new job, but you know what? I’m sure you got up way earlier than me this morning and you have it all figured out.