If I had a bajillion dollars

I had a conversation once with someone who works for someone with a lot of money. Planning a party for the boss, blah blah. I heard some quirks about the party planning--food must be served in only one layer--no heaps. Things like this. My first reaction--ha! The rich! So ODD! But then I was all, well that's not actually that bad.

And I started thinking--what if I win the lottery? Or write the next Harry Potter and become a bajillionaire overnight? My life would instantly become a fishbowl. What would my employees say about me?

My chef: The toast. She is a nut with the toast. But for a midnight snack? Apples only. She's crazy. Orange? NO. Pear? NO. The sacred toast? NO. Always with the apples. And it's a lot because she's not exactly a SLEEPER if you know what I mean. A bit of a night wanderer, that one. And does SHE clean the counters on her little midnight applefests? Nooooooooooooooo.

My party planner: Don't even get me started. She is way overinvolved in the menu choices. She's all into this Pennsylvania Dutch lard-laden cuisine. Oh, for the love of God, do we really need to have scrapple every holiday party? Really? We can make other things, you know. It's not even that good.

My research staff: She's so NOT detail oriented! She's such an "idea" person but has no idea how to actually get anything done. Try pinning her down to an actual plan--good luck.

My financial adviser: I'm embezzling so much money from her because she can't be bothered to keep tabs on anything. She actually trusts me! Ha! Want to see my new house in the Caymans?

My nanny: This is the easiest job I have ever had! She never wants to be away from that boy for a minute. Except the playground. She hates the playground. She's terrified of the other mothers. She thinks they are all best friends except her. That's the only thing she lets me do with him.


My housekeeper: She's a nut about the cat hair. Do you have any idea how to keep cat hair off everything? With 47 cats? I have to vacuum like twice a day. I heard she did that when she was in her own apartment with wall-to-wall carpet. What a nut.

My gardener: Who wants to tell her that she doesn't actually live in an English country garden? What a poser.

My butler: You better be on time if you are going to come to her house, that's all I can say. She starts getting all nervous and edgy if people are like five minutes late. She becomes convinced that they hate her. Then she gets mad at them--a door slammer, that one--and festers about it for weeks. And I've seen her hold grudges over it too.

My car guy: This is the most boring job I have ever had. She doesn't care in the least about cars and her husband still insists on taking the bus even though they have a bajillion dollars. I quit.

My philanthropist: Yawn. There we go getting clean water and vaccinations to some more children. A little diversity, please? How about a nice art endowment? Some microfinancing? Nooo.....always with the clean water. Something about how she feels guilty studying genetics when so many people in the world still don't have clean water. Yawn.

My stylist: She is a disaster. She totally makes me do vanity sizing and won't wear dresses EVER. Put her in heels and she falls on her face. I quit.