As I sit perched in my zebra-skinned armchair, watching the snow fall upon one of my vast estates (this one I call, Colorado), I can’t help but think of those hearty, rosy-cheeked youngsters hustling to shovel the snow from their neighbors’ driveways for a scanty buck or two.
On the one hand, I appreciate their moxy and hope there’s a future Richard Branson or Kim Jong Un in their midst. On the other hand, I laugh at their reliance upon manual labor.
As one of my expensive Yale professors used to say, “Why shovel a driveway when you can have the help shovel off your helipad?”
Wise words from a wealthy man, haha!