If you don’t have any plans for the big weekend coming up, I’ve got a fantastic idea: Why don’t you come join my family and me at our country house? You can spend a few days relaxing in the sun, taking walks through the vast and immaculately landscaped grounds, and feeling degraded and ashamed by your inferior station in life.
It’ll be great! You can see all the terrific stuff we own!
No, seriously, I insist. And please, don’t worry about bringing anything with you. We’re more than able to accommodate your every need in a lavish manner you can’t possibly be accustomed to, and anything you did bring would appear a bit laughable in the surroundings of our seldom-used, no-excess-spared second home.
Oh, please say yes. You can pretend to take it easy while actually riddled with debilitating social anxiety. We, if not you, would just love it.
I’ll send a car for you. It won’t be any trouble. And just to make you feel even more uncomfortable, I’ll send the car at a time when you have to be at work. How’s Friday afternoon? Because, in my mind, who would be working on a Friday afternoon? The uniformed driver will have to wait for hours, but don’t worry. He won’t complain. If he did, he’d lose his job!
From the moment he opens the car door, you won’t have to lift another finger all weekend. Won’t that be divine? You can just put your feet up and watch the lovely countryside whip by while you desperately try to figure out if you’re supposed to tip the gracious chauffeur, or if that would be insulting. And once you arrive, you’ll be greeted by our household staff, who can provide you with everything you’ll need to be seized by a deep and abiding sense of socioeconomic guilt that can only come from having a 50-year-old man bring you iced tea.
Doesn’t that sound like a fun way to spend your weekend?
I promise, you’ll have a great time feeling envious of everything you see. Do you like movies? We have a private screening room that seats fifty. Or, if you’d just like to kick back by the pool, you can sit awkwardly in your inexpensive swimsuit, feeling self-conscious about your pale, lusterless skin and substandard body while me and my peers prance before you like gleaming bronze goddesses. Come on! I won’t take no for an answer.
I can see you’re reluctant, but there’s no need to feel shy. You can have the guesthouse all to yourself, sleeping in a bed that isn’t nearly as nice as the ones in the main house, but is still far, far better than whatever flea-bitten mattress you’re used to.
Pamper yourself! We don’t mind. We’re used to hosting lesser people, and trust me, we’ll hardly even notice you’re there.
Plus, you must meet my family. As rich as I am, they’re even richer, and you can bet their facial expressions won’t bear even the slightest trace of the condescension they’ll feel toward you—if they bother to feel superior at all. Either way, they’ll be painfully polite.
Come to think of it, we’re having our monthly polo tournament this weekend. That would be terrible for you! Since you’ve never ridden a horse, we can have our professional instructor awkwardly trot you around in a circle behind the stables while the rest of us engage in sophisticated horsemanship you’ll never in your life come close to achieving.
There are so many ways for you to feel silly and out of place. You could join us in a game of croquet and feel desperately awkward, or just have a drink while you watch and feel even more awkward! Or, if you’d like to just be alone for a while, there’s a room bigger than your entire apartment that we hardly ever use, so you won’t be disturbed except by your own constant, crippling uneasiness.
Oh, please, please say yes? It wouldn’t be a weekend without you there feeling hopelessly inadequate. You won’t be in the way at all. Just make yourself at home and pretend we’re not quietly looking down on you.
It’ll be so fun for us!
