Some years ago I was delivering the 3rd tractor-trailer load of decorative paver blocks to a new lakefront mansion on Lake Norman. There were dozens of young Hispanic workers busting ass everywhere as lots of new homes were being built there.
As I waited for the fork lift
operator to finish the truck in front of me a new Benz drove up and a
man in his 60s got out along with a very stunning 20 something female,
"Oh Honey," she exclaimed, "It's going to be beautiful. Do you think I
could go inside?"
"Sure," he said, "the inside is almost finished. I'm going to try to find the contractor."
He was walking my way and being the sort who will strike up a conversation with anyone I asked," Is this your house?"
"Yes it is," he answered. "Having it custom built just for the wife."
"Must be nice to have that kind of cash," I said.
"Oh," he replied, "I don't have that kind of money. I've got a 30 year mortgage. There's no way I could pay cash for that."
"Must have a pretty good job," I said, "what do you do?"
"I'm in the Internet business," he answered.
"So let me get this straight," I teased, "if the economy goes to hell
that young wife is going to ditch your ass and 4 families of Mexicans
will end up living in this house you just blew your wad to make the down
payment on. Is that about right?"
I'll never forget the look on his face. He never said a word.
That was 1998, just before the Dot Com bust.
So she got the house. I could deal with that. And the new car. I expected that to happen all along. Custody of the kid? It was the 1970s, th...
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