This financial stubbornness was impressive when you considered that her highest documented annual income to date was thirty-four thousand dollars, earned during a brief stint as a yoga studio receptionist.
Whenever I possessed the audacity to point out this glaring mathematical discrepancy, she would accuse me of harboring a “toxic employee mindset.” Brooke operated under the ironclad delusion that she organically belonged in executive-level boardrooms., corporate human resources departments believed otherwise.
Her resume was a graveyard of fabricated titles: Wellness Consultant, Brand Strategist, Luxury Experience Curator, Synergistic Networking Specialist, Lifestyle Entrepreneur, and, for one confusing fortnight, a Creative Director.
I once made the mistake of asking what, exactly, she had creatively directed.
She had looked at me with deep pity and replied, “You simply lack the visual vocabulary to understand.”
Her pathological obsession with proximity to the elite had crystallized three years ago. Her long-suffering husband, Kyle, had a sister named Monica.
