The price we pay

Tomi Anastasia

11th Grade A

Every day, I wear a mask, a designer one.

Tom Ford cologne. Christian Dior suit, slim cut and perfectly tailored to my perfectly sculpted

upper body. Rolex on my wrist, not the latest model, that would scream flashy, but a more subtle

model, one that imparts old money. My shoes, Berluti, and my tie, Hermes. All of these measly

“flesh and FLASH embellishments” are what reeks of status in my circle of associates.

As I grab my Hugo Boss briefcase, I am once again reminded of my failed attempts to dine at

Dorsia, the hottest spot in town. Every one of my coworkers, even Paul Allen, that spineless

fraud, managed to snag a table there, and I, the most SUCCESSFUL AND THE MOST esteemed 

businessman in the entirety of the World, haven’t.

While making my way to the elevator of my immense building situated in the middle of NYC, I

affix my rigid mask, hoping it doesn’t slip while my friends, Timothy, Craig, or Price converse

about their daily hook-ups, the soaring price of cigars, or what functions and illegal substances

they may have dabbled in.

I must make my way to office , but I practically carry the company on my back. It

survives because I let it, thus time is not my anathema. Nonetheless, it is the new and advanced

iPhone model, Price is crowing about having bought. I must have it, so I made a mental note

about asking my secretary, Jean, to phone the CEO of Apple. If I don’t have the new iPhone within 24 hours, someone will be terminated. All I could think about for the length of the lunch was why I didn’t have the sophisticated phone. It made me ill to my stomach. Was I socially beneath that perverted Price? I left the restaurant earlier than expected with an invidious feeling .

Pierce & Pierce was finally graced with my worthy presence. Albeit in the brief interval of 

time when I left the restaurant and traversed to the office building, I observed a plethora of

homeless people scouring the streets. I could only feel disgust while noticing them. If I

were able to work and make an honest living, why couldn’t they? Such indolent pests.

They plague this luminous city. Just their soiled appearances make me want to gouge my own

eyes out. I finally arrived at Pierce & Pierce, and the Hispanic doorman, whose name had long

escaped my concern. I superficially smiled at him, and he reciprocated with a sycophantic grin,

evidently gratified by my luminous presence. I presume, at his income bracket, utility is the apex 

of existential achievement.

I arrive in my exquisite, meticulously decorated office, imbued with my numerous corporeal

achievements and a diverse array of employee-of-the-month plaques. Honestly, it's no wonder I

continuously win; all the other associates are such dunces that I can't really fathom how they

went about securing this prestigious job. My comely secretary enters my office and mentions that 

she has notified Tim Cook(The CEO of Apple), albeit she exclaims that she hasn’t received an

answer yet. She also notifies me of a message left by my fiancée; however, I couldn’t care less

about her. She is only sufficient AND USEFUL for my corporal desires and acting like a

housewife. I don't love her or even like her. She is just like another doll in my dollhouse. After

having brushed Jean off, I put on my headphones, playing only the most trendy hits, and started

on my actual work, reviewing some minuscule cases. To be honest, I didn’t really care about

them; however, I noticed that my American Express Centurion was stained with something red,

was it blood, women’s nail polish, or lipstick? I couldn’t care less.

I don’t believe I am a noxious person; I view myself as the epitome of the idyllic man. Every act

of mine that some may find inhumane, I just view as a necessary mechanism to preserve

aesthetic and intellectual standards in a world collapsing under mediocrity. 

Notwithstanding some labelling me as bigoted or callous, they are just jealous of my lifestyle and 

wish they could abode an analogous life to mine. After all, I am just the epitome of manhood. I

arrive at my homely sanctuary and take off my mask.