Oh I don't think it's having no desires left that rots their souls, I think it's knowing they still have limits. A friend of mine was kind of an estate manager for some crazy-rich (also crazy, rich) people who would have her do things like survey the CDs that they'd been listening to lately, and buy duplicates to go in each of their cars, and pack two boxes to take to the beach house and the mountain house. They literally could not think of enough ways to spend money. Lady would buy furniture and forget, and then buy something else, so when the extra sofa's delivered, oops! But they were not happy, at all, and it wasn't because they had all the couches, or their immediate environment was completely perfect and there was nothing else to make better, with my poor friend stockpiling bananas in her office so that there would always be four (not three, not five) in the fruit bowl at the exact peak of ripeness. It was because while they were filthy, filthy rich, there were still things they couldn't have. They had a jet share, but people who actually owned their own planes could have custom paint jobs on them. They had some nice art, but there was art in the world that they couldn't buy. It killed them. And they craved, CRAVED the company of people with both money AND fame, who wouldn't give them the time of day and didn't come to their parties.
I hope all of these people have no living relatives, because when they wind up in the hospital, they will be dunned in an incredibly aggressive and threatening way. A friend of mine suddenly found himself in intensive care without insurance. He wouldn't give them a next of kin, so they took his wallet and got on the web. They called his parents and told them if someone didn't show up with a certified check for thousands and thousands of dollars, they'd basically unhook him from the machines and leave him at the bus stop. They were vicious. If I had a relative who wouldn't buy their own insurance I'd buy it for them but not tell them. I wonder if you can do that, like life insurance. Also, I liked the bit where the uninsured woman stopped for coffee. Slipping in the how many lattes reference.
Second. Designers are not the same as coders, nor the product guys, since they were the ones doing the negotiating. Sounds like they didn't value her much, since they weren't paying her much. Yes, they could have insisted that she was part of the deal, but I have never noticed that "Making offers to four-fifths of a company as part of an acqui-hire, while legal, is nearly unheard of in Silicon Valley..." Google had seen her work and interviewed her. I'm sorry to see this spun so hard as sexism on so little. If they'd had an engineering department of ten, and five were women, and they'd hired the five guys, maybe. You'd still have to see their resumés. And their code.
Next Month on the Billfold: I am engaged to a person who works at home on his own schedule, but doesn't make very much money. Not nearly as much as I do. I work really hard at a tough job, and we have a pretty nice lifestyle, but now that we're getting married, and I'm thinking about children. Kid expenses would kibosh a lot of our nice extras like takeout and longer vacations, and it's pretty much impossible for me to take any time off work, since I'm the one with the steady paying gig. Unfortunately I'm also the one with the uterus and breasts. My partner is one of those people who thinks he's got the system beat. He's a writer. Spends a lot of time puttering around the house, doing that writerly procrastination thing. It's great that he gets things done around the house, but it's not like if he had to go to the office the garbage would never go out again. He doesn't even try to assert that he does more than 50%. When I talk about his trying to earn more money, he points out that we don't really need as much as we have. He's big on the virtue of frugality. But I'd infinitely prefer that he compromise his high ideals and earn more than 25% of the household budget. Oh well. I haven't married him yet.
When I got a prenatal massage I was not really joking when I told the woman that what I'd really like it to pay her the $85 to leave me here alone, lying on my stomach for the first time in four months, on this wonderful table.
I signed up for Motley Fool with a unique email address, and got a freaking tidal wave of spam for vaguely financial shit like credit monitoring. Wasn't impressed.
This must be for the people who paid for Prime and then never bought any non-perishable anything from any local source ever again. Toilet paper once a month, Windex once every six weeks, six pairs of blue boxers once a year. The agorophobe special.
http://www.heifer.org SO GREAT
The laying the blame part, that's like being an addict who hasn't been to any meetings yet.
That is not hack. That is enviably awesome.