Oh the dreaded rich witch that thinks she is better than the ground she walks on. Of course she is. It’s only dirt. Dirty, unfiltered, grime, that only bothers you, or gets in your way. Of course they are better then the dirt they walk on, and the air they breath, and don’t forget to include EVERYTHING. Absolutely everything.
When I meet someone that views life in such a way, I can’t help but wonder if they started out like this. Are they born with a silver spoon in their mouths? Are they taught to hate eveything that’s not worth a handful of $100 dollar bills? Or, did they simply choose to be this way?
A dear friend of mine grew up the same way I did. On a farm. Not a wealthy farm by any means. Just a run down, ragged, trying to keep things afloat, and can your vegetables before it got to cold, kind of farm. She had the same, well let’s not go as far as saying the same, but a very similar upbringing. We were taught values of a hard days work, and how to treat people with respect. We always treated our elders with respect, out of fear of having to choose a switch from the weeping willow tree if you disrespected. We didn’t pick a small switch either. See, you couldn’t outsmart the grandparents. Just when you think you are being clever, they have already planned the next six steps. I tried to be smart and bring the smallest of a branch, a twig really, inside and hand to my grandmother, and she simply placed it into the fireplace and pulled outbone the size of my leg from behind the rocking chair. See, always a step ahead. Needless to say, I never attempted to be “smart” again.
Point of the matter, we respected adults. We respected those in our lives who worked hard. Those who tookcare of us. Even those with more money then us.We were taught to respect PEOPLE, plain and simple.
This dear friend of mine left all of it behind and made something of herself. Something great to say the least. She owns a condo in Manhattan and doesn’t ride the subway, if thats any indication. She does very well for herself. She also changed in ways that I never saw coming. She is ashamed of her upbringing and treats those of us, of lesser value, well, exactly that, of lesser value. She doesn’t appreciate that her upbringing has a lot to do with why she is so successful. That her childhood molded this strong, hard working, individual. Instead, she treats every one around her as if they are simply less.
The reason I tell this story is because I have met both kinds of wealthy people. Those that grew up wealthy and those that didn’t. In my experience, and this is just simply my opinion, and I could be dead wrong, but those that grew up wealthy tend to be more respectful! I know, sounds crazy, but in my line of business, I get to meet and connect with the wealthy often.
Why is it that when you come from nothing and have everything, you feel entitled to treating people like ants? People that are born wealthy, give me a feeling that they almost feel sorry for me, not always, but most of the time. I am not a poor woman by any means, but I do drive a Malibu.
Being raised wealthy: are you taught to feel sorry for those less fortunate then you? Just curious.
Simple upbringing: What gives you the right to shy away from those that raised you? From those that fed you, and worked from daylight until dark just to make sure you had a roof over your head? What gives you the right to act as if you are better then anyone? Do you remember the cold nights, and the days without electricity, do you remember hearing your mother cry behind a closed door, because she didn’t want to show her children how hard life really was? Do you remember the happiness on your parents face on Christmas simply because there were gifts under the Christmas tree? How can you forget?
This is for you Elizabeth. Do you recall the path to your success and the outpouring of support from your family and your friends? The friend you have had since your beginning? The friend that held your hand when you were afraid to get on the school bus. The friend that kept your deepest, darkest secrets. The friend that took a punch to the face, from the dreaded 4th grade bully, for you. All for you.