I know that feeling. Living in 3rd world - ish public housing and the directors do not look at you, don’t care to know your name, would rather die than go in your apartment. They wear the stupidest most garish clothing to a place where most of us get our clothes from the dumpster/goodwill/sidewalks. They drive BMWs and Mercedes up in here-- who the fuck is making that kind of money managing public housing? One starts to want to put sugar in gas tanks (in Minecraft of course)