Peggy lay on a lounge chair by the pool of an all-inclusive resort in the Dominican. “I’m having a first world crisis,” she said to Steve.
Steve looked over at Peggy. She was still sunning herself. “What’s that?”
“It’s a problem that you only find in the first world.”
“I know what a first world crisis is. I was asking about yours,” said Steve.
“It’s the anxiety I’m feeling on the last day of vacation realizing that tomorrow I’m going back home,” said Peggy.
“That’s a real crisis. I feel deeply for you. I’m looking forward to going home,” said Steve.
“Why? You’re in the same boat I am,” said Peggy.
At that moment a waiter replenished their margaritas.
“I’m gonna missed having a waiter serve me,” lamented Peggy.
“I wonder what it’d take to own a place in the Caribbean with waiters and servants?” asked Steve.
“I think we’re a few million dollars short,” said Peggy.
“It gives us incentive to work harder to get back here.”
“According to my calculations, it’ll take us about thirteen years to earn a million dollars.”
Steve sighed. “Now I’m experiencing a first world crisis.”