My name is Karina Jade Ambrose. A big and tall, red-haired and green-eyed Irishwoman living in the city of Brockton, Massachusetts. I'm a truck driver by trade. I didn't go to business school like so many of those highly educated people who find themselves unemployed these days and are praying for a government-issued Bailout. I went to Brockton Community College and earned myself an associate's degree in the field of psychology, of all things. After graduation, I decided that I didn't want to be a psychologist. I became a truck woman instead. Yes, female truck drivers do exist. There aren't a lot of us but we're out there. For twenty years, I worked hard at it. Earned the respect and admiration of the toughest men on the job. Then I retired and wisely invested my money.
What's the secret of my success? Simply put, I lucked out. I made a fortune during the Recession, starting moving companies across New England. Lots of people were moving out of their houses because of foreclosures. My moving companies pounced on that wave of opportunity. We rode that wave to its zenith, folks. By early 2008, I was a multi-millionaire. I worked hard for my money and I don't suffer fools. Men and women of any race or background who don't make the most of themselves and waste time and money get absolutely no pity from me. I don't like to donate to any damn charity and I don't believe in special treatment based on race, gender, or any category falling under the banner of political correctness. Lazy women don't get any breaks from me. Neither do lazy men, or lazy people of any race.
Sometimes, some people ask me how come I'm so harsh. They ask these questions only because they don't know me or what I've been through. When you know what a person has been through, then you will understand why they do what they do. It's that simple. Walk a mile in someone's shoes before judging them. If people did that more often, the world would be a better place. Life isn't as simple as many would like it to be. But I try my best to remove any unnecessary complications. Even though I am bisexual, I don't do the bed-hopping thing with women or men. I don't trust either sex as far as I can throw them. Human beings are treacherous. It doesn't matter if they're Black or White, male or female, straight or gay. That's the world according to me. It's for the best, I'm sure. In case you're wondering what in hell I'm talking about, I'll explain shortly.
Historically, many people have been on the receiving end of mistreatment. Men and women, Blacks and Whites, straights and gays. We've all been there. Pain is part of the human experience. I don't think any of us ever completely escape it. Wealth and power can shield one from much unpleasantness but there are no guaranties. How else could you explain how one of my wealthy Black lady friends became my servant? Life can deal someone many reversals. There isn't a man or woman out there who is so tough, so proud, so ruthless and so powerful that life can't take him or her out and reduce them to nothingness. Sometimes, the powerful become the powerless. And vice versa.
In the United States of America, racial and gender issues, along with the politics of sexual orientation, completely dominate the political arena. If it's not civil rights being discussed, it's women's rights or same-sex marriage. And there are battles fought every damn day over these issues. I think the single most neglected issue in the country is the issue of class. Whether you're male or female, Black or White, straight or gay, how much money you have is what make s all the difference. Rich Black folks don't associate with poor Black folks, or poor White people for that matter. Rich women don't associate with poor women. Rich gay people don't see poor gays and lesbians as their equals. Not really. Class is the biggest line to cross in America. Why? Simply because class has to do with how much money you got, not your skin color, your gender or which way you get down in your bedroom.
Right now, I'm sitting on my living room couch while my servant, Fatima Winston, trims my toe nails. She's a tall, dark-skinned, big-bottomed and somewhat heavyset Black woman in her early forties. She used to be a supermodel, and the owner of Winston Magazine. One of the wealthiest and most powerful Black women in the country. Right up there with Oprah and Tyra Banks. She even had her own daytime talk show. Then she blew it. She hooked up with some shady men, both Black and White, who only liked her for her money. They took her the cleaners in divorce court since she never made any of them sign a prenuptial agreement. She started smoking crack. And that's how her millions went. In legal fees, divorce battles, and lawsuits. It took her a lifetime to become a multi-millionaire mogul but only a few years to become a washed-up has been. Sometimes, I wonder why humanity invented money. It's been known to make otherwise smart people do some crazy things.
