Scott Davies

Where the fuck is my Ferrari?

“Where the fuck,” I ask myself, “is my Ferarri?”

I didn’t actually own a Ferrari at that point, so the question was more rhetorical than anything. But seriously. All the reels on Instagram are telling me there are billions of millions of dollars out there somewhere, and I can’t even get my hands on one of them. I have to be entitled to at least one of them, right?

For the last three months, I’ve been improving my circle of friends. Cutting the fat, I guess.  I used to have so many friends, but now I have five, because everyone keeps telling me the same thing; ‘you are the sum total of the five people you spend your time with’, or something like that. I figure, why bother with more than five friends, then?

Alan, he has his own painting and decorating company, and he’s making bank. Totally worth keeping him around. I need to learn how he does it. And he gets to pick the kids up from school. He barely works, but he has a brand new Ford Transit van with his name on the side. And his mobile number. In a serif font.

Jeff doesn’t even have a pet or anything, but he works from home, and he went on a holiday with his wife and kid to Spain a couple of years ago, so it’s going real well for him. I want to work from home.

Why can’t I work from home? My boss wants me ‘in the office’. What an asshole. It’s total bullshit. If I could work from home I could be working on my own business, but no, I have to get my ass into the office every morning by 8am.

Mark is my dentist and a great guy. He has two cars. Sure, one is his wife’s, but two cars. Imagine! He doesn’t even rent his place, he has a mortgage. I haven’t heard from Mark for a while, but I definitely consider him a friend. He said I shouldn’t drink so much and focus on my work instead. I’ve got so much to learn from him.

Martin has his own business now his dad is dead. He pumps shit out of blocked drains, and he must be making a killing because he doesn’t even have a mortgage now on account of the life insurance payout from his dad falling down the stairs at home. And his mum is already dead. Some people have all the luck. I need to catch up with Martin. I wonder what he’s been up to these last six months. That guy’s a real son of a bitch, you know.

Then there’s my best friend, Kev. That guy is a hustler. A real inspiration to me. I’ve been following him on Instagram for a while now and what he does is so smart. He sells this course online, and what happens is you buy this course on how to become, like, geographically and financially free, and he teaches you how to create your own course online about things like financial freedom or how to work from anywhere in the world. You can even get a kickback on your monthly subscription if you get people to sign up through your referral link. It’s legit. 

I took his course like, 12 months ago, and it was really good. I even got my website up and everything, but work is kicking my ass right now, so I haven’t had time to get it off the ground.

I wish I could just work from home so I could work on my own business. I think it’s bullshit that I have to come into the office on my shitty little bike and work all day when my boss has a Mercedes-Benz and only comes in once a week. He works from home all the time and has his own house. I’m crashing with my mum for now. Just while I’m hustling hard towards my dream of becoming a millionaire.

I tried calling Alan earlier to ask if he knew whether a laptop would be tax-deductible, but he just told me I had to knock this shit off because it’s nearly midnight and he was asleep and I’m not making any sense again. He asked me why I wasn’t asleep and didn’t I have work in the morning? Fuck that guy. What does he know? He’s just a decorator. He’s fallen into his money. He has no hustle at all.

I figured I’d try Jeff, but he told me to fuck off and that we don’t even work together anymore and, besides, his wife was asleep. Well, it’s not my fault he decided to stay at that shithole and I had the courage to leave and chase my dreams, is it? What a pussy.

Mark didn’t pick up. I guess he’s sleeping. That guy goes to bed so early. It’s only, what? Shit. half past midnight. I’m sure he’ll call back this time.

Martin answered by saying I couldn’t have my job back, that joker, then he said me calling at all hours to run business ideas by him and ask about his dad made him uncomfortable and that I should probably see somebody about my drinking. He just doesn’t get it. Know what I mean? Ever since he got all that money, he’s been a real asshole.

Kev doesn’t seem to reply to his own emails anymore. Usually a girl called Kelly replies and just says he’s busy, he’s away in Thailand, or at a business conference or some bullshit. 

I deserve that fucking Ferarri. I can’t wait to get it. I’ll post a picture on Instagram of me sat on the bonnet with a real nice watch on. I just wish I could see their faces when they open Instagram over their morning coffee and see me on a beach in Dubai with a woman on each arm and a big ass watch on my wrist and a Ferrari under my ass. That’ll show ‘em. That’ll really show ‘em.

Vroom, vroom, bitches!