The Table They Sent Us To
I had lent him money for rent, for traffic fines, for credit-card debt, once for repairs on a luxury SUV that had nearly been repossessed.
And still he treated me like hired help who’d gotten lucky in a tech boom.
That was the strangest part of my position in that family, and it took me years to name it: the more I gave them, the less they respected me.
I used to think respect was something you earned through reliability, that if I proved useful enough, dependable enough, they’d come around.
It works exactly backward with people like the Hargraves.
To them, a man who keeps handing over money is not admirable; he is a resource, and you do not respect a resource, you manage it.