"So, where are you from?" I asked the blackjack player my stock question to appear friendly.
"Now...I'm from Beverly Hills," he replied without an ounce of remorse.
"Where were you from before?"
"Chicago," he said.
"Chicago?" I feigned interest. "That's quite a change."
"Yeah, it's quite different," he admitted.
"So, where do you like better: Chicago or Beverly Hills?"
"I like Chicago for the city, but Beverly Hills for the weather."
"So, what makes Beverly Hills a bad city?"
"I have to say the people," he paused. "They're just so fake and possessed by material goods. Why does a woman that makes $20,000 a year, need an $1,800 purse?"
I nodded. "I have to agree with you, but I have to say that you are living in the absolute epicenter of this way of thinking." I paused, "I hope you don't mind me asking but what possessed you to move there?"
"Oh, well, I'm a plastic surgeon, it really is the best place for my profession."
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