Albert Lord is the CEO of student loan giant Sallie Mae.
Dear Mr. Lord (or do you prefer to just be called "Lord"?):
Have you seen the movie Moneyball with Brad Pitt? It's a good flick. It's about baseball, which I am sure you love since you're probably so American. Anyways Mr. Lord, there's a quote in it that I want to share with you: "There are rich teams, and there are poor teams. Then there's 50 feet of crap. And then there's us."
Now, you're a rich team. Not just the company you work at but like you, personally, Mr. Lord. Word on Forbes Street is that you and your family take in around $5 million a year, if you include "bonuses" and stock options and stuff. Good for you. You make about the same as Mike "The Situation" Sorrentino from Jersey Shore. You probably worked harder and got degrees and things to get where you are now, rather than simply lifting your Ed Hardy top and showing your spray tanned abs at cheesy dance clubs, but seriously, who knows.
Mr. Lord I am writing to you not just as a person who is in the "50 feet of crap" and also in the "us" part of the equation depending on my mood (which usually shifts when I get a Sallie Mae bill), but as a concerned citizen. I'm concerned for your well-being as one of the "rich teams." I really mean it. It's just a simple scientific fact: people with too much wealth go crazy and lose their minds. They get weird. They lose touch and do things like build wood burning pizza ovens in their garden and then #humblebrag about it, or buy tiny diamond collars for their Siamese fighting fish. Remember Citizen Kane? Only a wacko would build a fireplace like, 15 times taller than himself! What about Sunset Boulevard? Norma Desmond lived all alone in that big Hollywood mansion dripping with chandeliers and jewels and furs and she was straight psycho. Little and Big Edie from Grey Gardens -- crazy East Hampton bitches! Scarface? He had that nice bathroom but he still dunked his face into a pile of cocaine. Only crazy rich people do that.
Sure, right now you're feeling great. Black AmEx, silent auctions, yacht shoes (which you actually only wear on yachts). But Mr. Lord, a few more years of this and you're gonna end up wearing a mink turban and a diamond caftan to Kim Kardashian's third wedding! You're a stuffy businessman, not Liberace or Andre Leon Talley. Be careful dude. Mr. Lord, I'm not asking you to write me and the other hundreds of thousands or maybe even millions of people who owe Sallie Mae money a big fat check. We understand we have to pay back. It just would have been nice having someone to advise us when we took out our loans. I tried Mr. Lord, and... crickets.
I'm asking you to peer far, far down from your metaphorically tall yacht shoes and think of "us" in the "50 feet of crap" and maybe, just maybe rethink your interest rates. Do you really need $5 million a year, Mr. Lord? Does anyone? We're not asking for handouts like that super annoying jerk Oliver Twist who kept whining, "Please sir, I want some more." What nerve. But really, for your own sake, it'll probably do you some good to give a little. Unless of course you like mink turbans.
With Restraint,
Just Another Sallie Mae Wench
Portions of this article originally appeared on the blog Bureaucracy for Breakfast