Bertram sat on the floor sobbing and wiping snot from his face. See, this is why I couldn't become a counselor. How can you not grimace in disgust from seeing so much snot?
Well, that and because I lacked empathy.
I tried that career but I only lasted a few weeks. I always managed to get the one's who would complain about rich people's problems. 'Blah ble blah said this about me'. 'My boyfriend looks at too many girls'. 'Should I get a nose job?'
Ugh. It was too annoying to sit through.
Maybe it was because of the life I had lived up to that point which made me roll my eyes at their upper class problems.
Still. I was the problem.
Luckily I realized that and discovered my true passion: Overselling cars to the same kind of upper class people.
"A bet?" Bertram said drawing my attention back in again.
I grabbed a cloth and threw it in his face. "Yes, a bet. I bet that I can help you break your alcohol addiction problem."
