One of our vendors took my team out for lunch today. I’m finally at a point in my career where I get invited to this shit, along with my boss and a couple other managers, so it was a first for me.

Positive experience though. These guys took us to a nice white table cloth restaurant with their corporate credit card and spent over $300 on lunch for 8 people. They offered wine too but nobody drank.

Felt pretty good man.

But it was also weird because here I am breaking bread with a group of 45-65 year old corporate managers, all of whom are highly university educated and certainly pulling multiple six figures, discussing their business trips and years climbing the corporate ladder.

Meanwhile I’m this 29 year old loser Italian dude who never went to college and grew up in a dirt poor, single family, working class household in the city. Earning $55k/yr lmao. I felt like I didn’t belong tbh.

I wonder if they still would’ve given me a seat at the table if they knew the real me.

Just lie

Also please please stop putting these phags on a pedestal

37.50 a person doesn't go very far these days

Did they take you to Denny's for muh "corporate lunch"

Also you can make 55k a year at Costco

They are fucking you over

They probably are joking behind your back how they saved 50k an year by wowing you with an 37 dollar lunch.

always mirin that u have a gf at that salary

I would have gotten my food to go and ate in my car

I know they’re just humans who piss, shit and eat like any of us, but the reality is they’re of a higher social class than I was born into, so it’s fascinating to watch how they move. I never thought I’d be in the same circles as these types considering my family were all tradies and my friends were all degenerates/drug addicts.

True, but Costco ain’t giving full time hours, nor would there be much room for advancement or any potential for career growth from job hopping.

At least this corporate position looks good on a resume. I could probably earn way more if I put in the effort and broke out of my comfort zone. ChatGPT tells me I should be pulling $75k per year based on my job description, but who knows.


Thanks brah. I’m blessed to have her in my life srs. Granted, I keep a relatively low COL, so the bills can still get paid at this salary.


That’s what I do every day srs.

They don't care about you, they just want to sell more to your company. I don't really like the lunches and try not to go because I don't give a shit about a free lunch. But I'll pay the toll and schmooze for free tickets to sporting events. I got to see the Bears Packers wildcard game in the suite next to Hester and Urlacher, fooking Goodell and Ryan Poles were in there too. Worth it to pay the toll. I'm going to the Masters as well, they are flying me out and putting me up in a hotel. Worth it to pay the toll. Cubs games, meh, maybe depends on the weather and who I'm bringing.

GuineaDago585, self-appointed chronicler of misery in the Obnoxious Brutes misc section, had finally been invited to one of those lunches. You know the ones: white tablecloths, overpriced food, invisible hierarchies carefully served alongside a lemon wedge. Eight people, including him. $300 each, corporate credit card, wine offered, nobody drank. He felt like a prop in a slow, expensive horror show.

Sitting there, he watched his boss and a handful of 45-to-65-year-old managers trade war stories about business trips, promotions, and financial exploits, their laughter polite but sharp-edged like scissors through thin paper. He, 29, Italian, no degree, working-class upbringing, $55k a year, realized with chilling clarity that he didn’t belong. Not here. Not anywhere that mattered. He was tolerated, sure, seated at the table because corporate rituals demand a token, a person to make them feel generous, but he was irrelevant.

He scanned their faces. Polished, confident, filled with an internal warmth bred from decades of climbing ladders that didn’t exist. He compared it to his own life: fluorescent-lit cubicles, microwaved leftovers, paying rent, pretending ambition wasn’t a cruel joke, posting in OB misc to feel a sense of agency. His seat was a trap. The food, a bribe. The conversation, a reminder that he had no currency in this world of invisible titles and hollow accomplishments.

The wine sat untouched. The conversation flowed. He laughed when appropriate, nodded when appropriate, but inside, he was counting the years of his life that would be spent in offices like this, forever scraping the floorboards for scraps of meaning while others toasted to success they didn’t need to justify. Every morsel of food felt bitter. Every compliment, condescending. Every polite smile, a whisper that he was an intruder, a relic of another world, a man whose life had been predetermined by a combination of birth and bad luck.

He left the restaurant, OB misc open on his phone, fingers poised to write the truth:

“Lunch with the people whose entire lives are a carefully curated illusion. I survived. My soul did not. They don’t see me. They don’t know me. And even if they did, it wouldn’t matter. This is what adulthood is: a long series of meals where you pretend you belong, in a world where you never will.”

And somewhere in the forum, fellow OB misc members read it, nodded, and felt a shiver. They understood. Because the joke wasn’t funny—it was life.

Only some peasant making 55k per year comes to the misc to flex (?) about someone paying for his 38 dollar lunch. Sad!!!

Act like you belong, and stop overthinking stuff.

This. You spend way too much time contemplating and ruminating on things that don't matter that just make you more paranoid and depressed. You really need to lighten up

Basically 40 dollars for lunch is good even here in NYC.



what does his salary have to do with having a GF or is that the only things girls look for in YOU

Very Misc of you

Sounds like all the tradies in your family were shit at trades

Get the fuck outta my thread you scumbag piece of shit. You’re a coward motherfucker and a low IQ braindead one at that. If you ever crossed paths with me in real life you’d bow your head in fear like the little bitch you are. Never in a million years would you ever say this shit to me in real life. I guarantee it. Know how I know? You didn’t even have the balls to say it over the internet behind anonymity when we were on new misc. But I figured your punk ass out. You and I both understand fully what a fucking pussy you really are.

They were uneducated, but made the best out of what they had. My grandfather was a FOB immigrant who built a business and my father worked 3 jobs at a time to keep food on the table. They worked harder, not smarter, but I will always appreciate their sacrifices.

Btw I actually respect you for talking shit directly to me. We’d probably scrap and then shake hands after. That phaggot cocksucker Tripod spent the better part of a year spamming Home Depot emojis on my posts like a mentally deranged battered woman. Mind you, he did it before Fagmin opened reactions to public view, then stopped as soon as he did. Straight bitch behavior.

Just wanted to add a vouch that tripod is a cowardly little bitch who is too much of a punk to openly say anything even online.

1000%. He’s probably one of the dumbest motherfuckers on the misc too. His entire posting history consists of the same recycled themes (often the same exact lines) over and over again. Srs. Very srs.

If I were a schizo, I’d probably be convinced he’s a bot. Unfortunately the reality is he’s just another miserable loser with low intellect who seeks validation on the internet. Nobody here likes him. I suspect that’s a recurring theme in his personal life. Perhaps he’s too retarded to realize it. Either way, in both cases, he provides zero value.

It’s funny because the cocksucker tried to act all nice, exchanging pleasantries and words of encouragement with me while he was spamming those Home Depot reactions. At the time I had no way of knowing who was responsible, so I humored it. But I never liked him. Always knew he was a pathetic little rat motherfucker.

If I saw him burning in agony in the middle of the street, I wouldn’t even piss on him.