Brett Meyer is a 31 year old hotshot agent in the Beverly Hills area. He drives a black Audi A6, smokes weed, and speaks a touch of Farsi. He was well on his way to achieving F-list celebrity status in Los Angeles. However, he noticed a massive decline in his sales and decided to seek consulting. Experts attributed his recent drought to his uneducated opinion of self worth and complete lack of societal decency. “I honestly didn’t think any phone call was worth my time,” Brett said. “My assistant tells me what I have to do and I prefer to text or respond over email.” An anonymous, flustered agent said that dealing with Brett was “literally the worse experience of her entire life.” Brett finally answered his phone for the first time in six years after an intervention from a “friend” he met at the Greystone Manor club. “I had at least two hundred showing requests,” Brett sighed. “I used to get mad at other agents when they didn’t pick up their phones, but I didn’t realize that I had become one of them.” Brett now occasionally answers calls from numbers he recognizes and is slowly beginning to call people back. He is currently looking for a roommate to join him in a “sick condo he found in West Hollywood.” He has turned to his uncle for a little extra cash to cover his Equinox membership. He believes that his body is a temple and that happiness starts with a healthy lifestyle.