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I loved Stella for five years, and we were even engaged. However, she never helped when my grandfather was dying, all because the adopted son of my family suggested that she should use the opportunity to put me through adversity—so that I would toughen up. After my grandfather died helplessly, I toughened up just as she hoped for, no longer relying on her for everything. Naturally, I no longer loved her anymore either.

I've been running a grilled fish restaurant in Millennium Square for six years now. Each time the queue for my restaurant gets noticeably longer, the mall management comes knocking on my door to raise the rent. At 5:00 pm today, the waiting list for my restaurant reaches the 200th table. I instruct my staff to prepare three additional cases of fish. At 6:00 pm, Walt Sutton, the mall manager, shows up at my office and slams a new lease contract onto my desk. "Congratulations, Mr. Connor. The mall's foot traffic has multiplied by three times this month," he says while pointing at the third page of the contract. "As it is, the mall is having a hard time keeping up with all the extra maintenance needs, so your rent will have to be increased by 50%." I glance at the contract. "That's not what we agreed on last time," I remark. "That was then, and this is now. You've got three days to decide whether you're signing the contract." In just six years, the rent has already doubled from 10 thousand to 20 thousand. Now, he wants to increase it by another 50%. After he leaves, I grab my phone and make a call. "Hey, Mr. Whitman, it's me. About that spot you offered to me in Avant Plaza, I'll be ready to move in after three days."

My name becomes the sensational topic on the trending list thanks to my company's employees, who have cyberbullied me relentlessly. It all started when an intern named Cecily Plinkton posted a complaint on her social media feed, claiming that the seafood thermidor, a new food item that had just gotten released in the company's cafeteria, was sold for 14 dollars, which was four dollars more expensive than before. "What a scum company! Are the higher-ups that crazy over money? They're just leeching from us white-collar peeps repeatedly!" The entire Internet doesn't hesitate to curse me out. They claim that I'm a cold-blooded capitalist who's greedy enough to charge her own employees for lunch. No one cares about the fact that I've been shelling out my own money in order to upgrade the cafeteria's food choices just so I could make the employees happier. Every day, they get to eat over hundreds of dishes to their fill for free. Every week, the expensive dishes, such as lobsters and crabs, are charged at the net price. Thanks to these free benefits, the administrative department has been suffering from almost a one-million-dollar loss every year. So, I announce that the food prices in the cafeteria will be changed to reflect the current market's prices. At the same time, I've fired the head chef and the kitchen staff and left the meal preparation to another company that produces instant meals. As soon as the announcement is made, the entire company goes into a frenzy. The employees all crowd outside my office while begging me to bring back the benefits with tears streaking down their cheeks.

I owned a taco shop for twenty years. The entire street was crowded because of my shop. After the SATs were over, I wanted to give a 20% discount to the seniors who were graduating on my new taco flavor, but my meat supplier sent me a notice. [Due to the high temperatures, the cost of transporting frozen goods has increased. Effective today, the price of raw ingredients will increase by 30%.] [Items are available on a first-come, first-served basis due to limited quantities.] It was the third time he had increased the price this year. Immediately after, my landlord and vegetable supplier also increased their prices as though they had discussed this in advance. I was furious as I questioned them, but all of them gave me the same answer. “Your profit on your new taco menu is high! We also need to benefit!” I was trembling in anger. I went back to my hometown and sent them a group text message. [From now on, I don’t need you to supply any materials to me. I also won’t be renting the place anymore!]

My father loved silence. He believed noise was the mark of lesser people, so he installed a decibel meter in our home. Speaking above 40 decibels meant that we would have to pay him 10 dollars, laughing above 60 decibels meant 50 dollars, and crying or throwing a tantrum was a serious offense at 100 dollars per second. The year I turned four, I fell and broke my arm. I did not make a single sound. I bit down so hard that I cracked two teeth, but I saved thousands in noise fees. He praised me for it and called me a "high-value child," one that was worth the investment. I treasured that compliment and observed the rules carefully, keeping the house wrapped in suffocating silence. Then came the stormy night a thief broke in. He had a knife and was creeping toward my mother as she slept, and I watched it all from the gap in the wardrobe where I was hiding. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shriek and wake my father, to do something, anything. However, my eyes drifted to the decibel meter on the wall, and my hand found nothing but an empty pocket. I did not have enough allowance. One scream would cost hundreds, and I simply could not afford it.

The hotel calls me on the phone and tactfully reminds me that since I've forgotten to pay for the condoms I've used last night, they've deducted the sum from my VIP card. I'm a little perplexed, to say the least. Last night, I've taken on an overnight shift till late night, so I've never been to the hotel. So, I question my wife, Nyla Burdette, who's the only one that knows about my VIP card number. She just looks at me in confusion. "Honey, it costs over a thousand dollars to spend a night in that hotel! Why would I stay there, to begin with? There must be something wrong with the hotel's system!" I no longer waste my breath on Nyla. My oldest uncle, Eric Fuller, is the investor of that particular hotel, so I call him right away. "Uncle Eric, help me investigate who Nyla has taken to the hotel last night! I want to catch them in the act!"