Guest Editorial By Tuan Twat
The Views Expressed Here Are Not Necessarily The Views Of Vietnam Beat, Although We Probably Still Despise You As The Reader.
As I sit in my sprawling mansion—an architectural marvel that boasts seven bedrooms, an infinity pool, and a home gym that rivals the local fitness center—I can’t help but reflect on how well I’m doing. You see, despite my countless triumphs and the hundreds of thousands of dollars I rake in annually, I must lament the tragic financial plight of my family members who haven’t paid me back for that $50 I lent them three years ago. Yes, it’s true: while I am living the dream, I bear the heavy burden of their debt.
Now, I fully understand that this newspaper absolutely should not be giving me a platform to air my grievances about how privileged I am to complain. But let’s be honest—what else could you possibly want to read about? The struggles of a middle-class family trying to make ends meet? Yawn. Instead, let me tell you about my struggle with maintaining a lifestyle that includes regular visits from my housekeeper, who I swear has been using too much bleach on my marble floors.
Oh, the sacrifices I make! Just last week, I had to budget for my kids’ tuition at an elite university in the U.S., a country that is, let’s face it, a bit of a dumpster fire at the moment. I mean, who wouldn’t want their children to have the chance to develop a drug habit or start a small fire at their fourth home near UCLA? The American Dream, right? I often hear my friends in Vietnam say, “Nguyen, it must be so fulfilling to have children at such prestigious institutions!” And I respond, “Yes, but at what cost? The cost of a fourth home?”
And then there’s the unjust burden of my mansion. It’s not just a home; it’s a lifestyle. The upkeep alone is enough to make anyone weep with joy. Just last month, I had to replace the roof after a particularly aggressive rainstorm. Did you know that roofs in this neighborhood cost more than the GDP of some small nations? It’s exhausting! I sometimes find myself staring longingly at the modest apartment I grew up in, reminiscing about the simpler times when my biggest worry was whether or not my parents would let me borrow the bike to go to the market.
I’m fortunate enough to have a healthy bank account, a beautiful family, and a home that could double as a tourist attraction. Yet, I also have the distinct honor of carrying the weight of others’ financial imprudence on my shoulders. It’s a tough job, but somebody has to do it. Who knew that having money could come with such emotional baggage?
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a yacht to clean, a mansion to maintain, and a family to gently remind about that pesky $50 loan. Until next time, remember: it’s tough being me, but someone’s got to do it.