When you have a job long enough, and work hard enough, and care just enough about everything there is to care about and do the right thing just enough to get into heaven with the platinum invitation, you can say to yourself, “I’m ready for the American Dream!”
You work hard, very hard, and earn millions for the Boss, and for that he cheats you on your insurance, cuts your salary, and doubles your workload. You scratch enough money together to put a downpayment on a house, and when you look around for one, you find that there are more home’s you wouldn’t want to be murdered in than those you’d like to live in. The mortgage broker robs you, the previous owners despise you, the real estate agents - well, there are not enough words to describe that kind of disease - and the sub-contractors who will fix up your dream falsify their credentials, lie about their ability, deceive you about the scope of work, and are generally the kind of people you are trying to keep out of your home instead of let in. The car dealer is a thief, who manages to admit to aspiring to ever deadly sin between the first handshake and the first pat on the back. The State the City and Town, will all put a home more than a hand down your briefs, the Insurance brokers will admit that they are not at all competitive, and the only people through the entire episode who seem nice enough are your new neighbors, who look as tired and ravaged as you do.