Otto must have been raised in poverty and even though he had separated from that, it was forever a key part of his soul from which he could not recover.

He was a system administrator and made sure to tell everyone he met that he owned a BMW M3. Lots of people had nice cars and didn’t think much about it. There was nothing he liked more than accelerating fast out of the parking lot after a long day of modifying configuration files and installing upgrades. People with families heard his tires squeal and knew he was a fearsome man to be reckoned with.

He was socially awkward and angry at the world for his triumph not being recognized. On one side, he thought he had it made by having a professional job so he could eat as much as he wanted. By signing up for convenient monthly car payments, had achieved the dream of owning a featured product intended to impress people, yet was dissatisfied that others were not impressed with his pithy wealth. The entire office class took high income for granted because that had always had it, and some planned for future by not wasting it foolishly complying with marketing messages to splurge on a quickly depreciating asset.

After getting home and watching the same Netflix shows as every other idiot with nothing inspired to do and no curiosity about the world, Otto enjoyed Taco Bell dinners in his shitty apartment. Though out of shape, unfashionable, and unpleasant to be around, he still thought he should be able to land a nice pretty girl because he had made it. He offered no positive distinction to be noticed or a single attractive traits, and gradually realized he was ignored except by worthless ladies who wanted free drinks and dinners from a dope.

No wonder he was so angry.