The only difference is the lens.
Give a child an unlimited budget until they’re 18, and they’ll demand a last-minute, $2,000-haircut on a Sunday, thinking nothing of it and making snarky comments at the disgruntled beautician’s face.
Give them a $2/hour paper route, a job at McDonald’s over the summer, and a hard-earned degree they’ll have to support with a side gig, and they’ll show compassion to the stressed waiter spilling a $10 glass of wine.
There’s a saying that rich customers are the best customers because they won’t care about mistakes nor ask for refunds. That’s not true. Often, the difference is whether they are rich by design or by default. One might know the value of everything, the other the value of nothing.
Some lenses only take seconds to switch. Others form over decades, made of layers upon layers of perception, sometimes so many we can no longer see through the glass. It might require a hammer to smash such a lucid prison, but once the spectacles are shattered, we’re free to start anew – and it’s never too late to buy a new pair of glasses.