You too can be a millionaire if you hustle hard. I thought I’d blocked all these mediocre white bros, but apparently not. You know the type. They pose with their fast cars and designer shades. Their bank account is their ultimate flex, and they trot out those show pony zeros whenever they get the chance. But they want you to know they’re human too. When cut, they bleed, even if their deepest cut comes from a butter knife.

Their voices are indistinguishable. Their pitch is genius and formulaic.

They worship at the altar of billionaires (if I read one more fucking Elon Musk article, I’m going for jugulars), who’ve managed to make more money during the pandemic while people can’t afford diapers. Our megawatt bro sells you on their get-rich-quick scheme, complete with a course and ebook without ever acknowledging their socioeconomic upper hand and lottery-winning privilege.

No doubt they work hard, but these guys aren’t necessarily brilliant, they’re lucky.

Why am I mad? Their words are dangerous. They’re capitalizing off the fragile lot, selling them on cash-money millions. You too can make $10,000 a month and drive the fast car I own. And while the buyer beware axiom holds true, people now are at their most vulnerable.

It’s likely you won’t make their money, own their car, have their life. Maybe it’s because you didn’t win the privilege lottery. You’re working three jobs and you’re on the verge of a breakdown because you might get evicted. Maybe it’s because not everyone can be a millionaire. That may sound way-harsh Tai, but I’m being realistic. Look at the crippling economic disparity in our country. You think these bros are going to shift it overnight with their ebooks and courses where they make money off telling you how to make money?

PFFT.

Maybe I’m wrong. But here’s what I do know. I don’t have the luxury of failing. I’ve worked for and with so many mediocre white guys. I’ve had to be twice as smart to stand in the room in which they breathe and I’m a white-passing woman. Men wouldn’t take me seriously unless a man stood beside me. Even when that man reported to me. That hasn’t stopped me from working hard and being awesome, but it’s infuriating. Imagine if I wasn’t as high up on the privilege totem pole.

Maybe these motherfuckers should just be honest and not promise the sun, moon, and stars. They don’t have to apologize for their privilege, but truly step back, look inward and acknowledge it. Hold up their winning lottery ticket…