Here in New York City… A man crosses 57th street and 5th avenue. His Patek gleamed in the light, his brow intense and furrowed dripped of sweat. He can be seen sporting a Ferragnamo suit, and a scowl. He complains loudly.
“Fred, I told you to get me that proposal by Friday at 5PM. It’s now Monday at 3PM… This is unacceptable. You have been warned multiple times about your timeliness, I cannot contain my frustrations…”
He looks fucking miserable. Hunch backed, fat, red, sickly. I feel genuinely sorry for him.
Here he is, at the pinnacle of financial and material achievement… his health in poor condition… his mind in poor condition… but he’s got some Gucci Loafers.
- I myself, try my very hardest not to complain.
- Because complaining is bullshit.
- A complaint is a problem. A problem is a question that hasn’t been formed. Once a question is formed we can find a solution. Your complaint can’t be solved.
Besides… I have no real problems. My family and loved ones are safe. I am healthy. I have nothing to complain about.