Aren’t you all just dying to know the habits of the wealthy? Grab your monocles and put on your finest silk pajamas because I’m about to shed some light on the mysterious world of the filthy rich.
First and foremost, let me talk about the morning routine. If you think you can just roll out of bed like a mere mortal, you are sorely mistaken. A wealthy person rises before dawn, presumably to bask in the silence before the rest of the world can bother them with trivialities. They then drink a precisely measured glass of water sourced from a remote glacier because, as everyone knows, the tap is for commoners.
Next on the morning agenda is exercise. But please, don’t think it’s anything as pedestrian as a jog or a bike ride. The wealthy opt for personal training sessions in ancient martial arts taught by monks, or zero-gravity yoga on a private space station. After all, they need to make sure their chakras are aligned, and nothing screams alignment like floating yoga.
Breakfast is not just a meal, it’s an experience. Forget cornflakes and a glass of OJ; I’m talking about a spread worthy of royalty. The eggs must come from chickens that are at least third-generation college graduates, and the coffee is brewed from beans that have been individually serenaded. The fruit platter? Oh, they’re just casually handpicked from their private island orchards.
Now, onto the task of getting dressed. Wealthy people have a sixth sense for fabric quality. They can spot a polyester blend from a mile away and would never let it touch their skin. Cashmere and rare silks are the bare minimum. The garments are hand-stitched by tailors who have been sworn to secrecy under the penalty of being forced to wear gasp department store clothes.
After floating through their cavernous wardrobes, they finally step into their shoes, which are never worn more than once. It is said that the wealthy donate them to charities for lesser millionaires.
Now, let’s talk about how they get to work. What’s that? You thought they’d drive? Or take public transportation? No, no. The truly wealthy have a secret network of tunnels and hovercraft, so they don’t have to mix with the hoi polloi on the roads. They arrive at their office refreshed, having not encountered a single traffic light.
Ah, the workday. Meetings are held, but only for the sport of it. Decisions are already made beforehand during secret golf course rendezvous or clandestine superyacht summits. The wealthy don’t work for money; money works for them. Their investment portfolios are like well-tended gardens, and they sometimes talk to them, encouraging the stocks to grow.
Lunch is an opportunity to network, which is code for discussing their next trip to the moon or which struggling country’s economy they could bolster for fun. They don’t eat so much as they absorb the essence of their food. One cannot be weighed down by carbs when conquering the corporate world!
At the end of the workday, they retreat to their lairs — I mean, homes — to relax. Evenings are for hobbies. Some like to collect things, like cities or small moons. Others prefer breeding rare hybrid orchids that can sing show tunes. The sky is not the limit; that’s way too low.
They finish the day with a lavish dinner, in which everything is gold-leafed, because that’s how you know it’s fancy. After an anecdote-filled dinner where they casually name-drop world leaders, they retire to their chambers.
But what, pray tell, do the wealthy read before bed? Financial news or classic literature, perhaps? Wrong! They actually read ancient scrolls written in languages long forgotten. It’s whispered that these scrolls contain the secrets of the universe and the recipe for the perfect avocado toast.
Finally, it’s time to sleep, but not before they’ve been serenaded by a choir of angels and have had their skin lathered with a cream made from moon rocks. The wealthy don’t count sheep; they count the number of times they’ve been on the cover of Forbes.
But wait! It’s the weekend now, and you didn’t think the wealthy simply sat around, did you? Oh no, my friend. Weekends are for exotic travel. They spin a golden globe and wherever their diamond-adorned finger lands, that’s where they go.
They don’t bother with the regular airlines; they take their jet-shaped like a golden phoenix. Once they reach their destination, whether it be a remote village in the Himalayas or an underwater city in Atlantis, they indulge in local cuisine (which is, of course, prepared by a three-star Michelin chef they brought along) and take part in ancient rituals which usually end up with them being crowned as honorary kings and queens.
Upon returning home, they don’t deal with mundane tasks like grocery shopping or laundry. They have a team of highly trained ninjas to take care of household chores. The ninjas are also skilled in the art of Feng Shui, so the mansion is always in perfect harmony.
We mustn’t forget about the pets. Wealthy people don’t have ordinary pets like cats or dogs. They have miniature unicorns, pygmy dragons or genetically-engineered talking meerkats. These pets have their own butlers, of course.
Holidays for the wealthy are just as extravagant. Whether it’s Christmas, Thanksgiving or any other occasion, it is always celebrated in a castle, or on the moon, or inside an active volcano. Because nothing says “family gathering” like molten lava.
To sum up, the habits of wealthy people are not simply habits. They are epic sagas that would make Odysseus look like he wasn’t even trying. The opulence, the grandeur, the sheer magnificence is enough to leave us mere mortals in awe.
So, the next time you’re sipping tap water and eating store-brand cereal, spare a thought for the weary wealthy, gallantly riding their hovercrafts and whispering to stocks. Theirs is a world of wonder, mystique, and over-the-top extravagance.