A mobile home park in small-town New Zealand.
I’m outside our tiny battered old caravan, towed by an aging Toyota. I don’t recall when I last washed them.
I haven’t washed my hair either for days. I’m in decaying loafers, combat style pants, and a shapeless outdoors jacket, topped by a cheap straw hat.
Talking to the neighbour, I’m always excited to share our amazing lifestyle.
“My wife is inside. She is working right now. We are international management consultants. She is coaching and training the top executives of one of Vietnam’s biggest banks.”
He looks me up and down.
”Riiiight… ” and changes the subject.
This scene has played out several times.