Middle-aged, overweight, borderline diabetic, at risk of a heart attack, socially removed, man in a noose (tie) that makes six figures and barely remembers his child’s name, and we call that a success.
Find something wrong with this picture? Me too.
But since we often define our success by the collective voice, we accept that’s the price we must pay. Perhaps somewhere in the back of our skulls that little piece of conscience we have left quietly tells us it’s wrong.