Having just returned from The Maldives, rich friend Jenna Armstrong wants you to know she thinks you would really, really like it.
“The whole pace of life is different,” gushed the 23-year-old part-time entrepreneur, whose father is an orthodontist and whose mother is heir to the Quanderman’s empire. Armstrong, whom you knew when you were both high school junior varsity basketball players, now lives in the Bay Area, where she makes $275K annually to do God knows what for some what-the-hell-is-that startup that promises it does something really important, even though nobody really knows what that is.
“I know you really like nature, so I think you would just be in absolute heaven,” said Armstrong. “Everything is just so lush, and there’s beaches, and mountains, and the sunsets are just to die for. And if you pay a little extra to your guide, they take you to the top of a mountain with a bike, and then you ride down while the sun rises. It’s just the most soul-transforming thing you can possibly imagine. You should totally go now, while you’re still looking for a job,” says Armstrong, biting into her lemon ricotta brunch waffles with her exquisitely white teeth.
Other favorable attributes of the Maldives that your rich friend recounted include the mind-blowing fresh food, like aki poke, mahi-mahi chowder, and organic guava purée drizzled over a fresh coconut gelato finger.
“It was all-inclusive at our private beachfront resort, which you also would have loved!” declared Armstrong. “You wake up and the beach is right there, and they bring this amazing coffee right to your doorstep, so after you swim with the dolphins and take your outdoor shower and wrap yourself up in one of those thick pre-warmed white plush robes, you can relax in your his-and-hers mega-hammocks and just be.”
“It’s so meditative, I know you would love it,” urged your rich friend. “Everybody was so friendly and laid back, and there’s none of that go-go-go pressure that everybody always has all the time here,” said Armstrong, her glowing face a mix of Pacific sun and the two weeks of pre-tanning she engaged in so she wouldn’t be totally white on the beach.
“I so don’t want to go back to work,” lamented your rich friend. “It’s going to be so surreal. You’re so lucky,” continued Armstrong, raising a manicured finger to order another mimosa. “I would so love to be unemployed for a few months so I could just travel and meditate and get massages. If you ever get a chance, you should totally go. You would love it so, so much.”
