Good evening. Thank you all for coming. These past six months, I’ve been to thirty-five states and done more than eighty town halls. You talked, and I listened. And the one thing I came away with, above all else, is that we have a lot of first-world problems in this country. Problems that are often overlooked and ignored. Just hearing about them has made me a better candidate—and a better person.

So many of you have opened your lives to me. There’s Blair, the Silicon Valley executive who walked into her closet one morning to find that many of her cashmere sweaters were marred by moth holes. These sweaters cannot be repaired, and if you love cashmere—and, really, who doesn’t?—you can appreciate how upsetting this would be, especially when you consider that every other item in Blair’s closet had to be sent to the dry cleaner. Fortunately, she didn’t have to go herself, but she did have to deal with not having her whole wardrobe available to her during a period of many social obligations. Blair broke down as she told me this. I put my hand on her shoulder and assured her that someday she’d get her clothes back and that, in the meantime, shopping for new cashmere sweaters could be fun. This seemed to cheer her up, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Blair’s story. Let’s face facts: we have a moth problem in this country, and the sooner we recognize it the better.

Then there was Rob, a hedge-fund manager from Scarsdale, who took a golf vacation in Miami Beach with his buddies and found himself on the first tee with no sunblock. He went into the pro shop to buy some, but they only had the kind that wasn’t organic. Fortunately, he was wearing a hat that protected his face, but his arms and legs got so sunburned that he was unable to play the next day. Sadly, he was reduced to lying poolside under an umbrella while his buddies teed off.

Of course, the sun kept shifting, which required him to move his umbrella every ten minutes. No easy task—those umbrellas are unwieldy. He asked the pool boy to do it once and gave him a tip, but he didn’t want to tip the kid every single time the sun shifted. So he moved the umbrella himself and wound up pulling a muscle in his back. Imagine: you work hard at Sullivan, Fairchild, Renfro, & Lieberman trying to help people. Sure, you’re well compensated, but no one deserves this.

What’s worse is that the injury could’ve been avoided if these resorts had a no-tipping policy. Then the pool boy, who’s trained to move the umbrella, would have moved it. Who can blame Rob for not wanting to give him ten dollars every ten minutes? Who brings that kind of cash on a trip? It’s hard to hear Rob’s story and not be moved by it. I promise that as President I will not rest until we do something about the tipping-policy fiasco that has long plagued, and continues to plague, this nation.

When Rob woke from a poolside nap, he ordered lunch, and it took more than an hour to arrive. He liked his veggie burger well enough, but they didn’t have any gluten-free buns. It’s time that these resorts realize that some people have gluten allergies. And that others, like myself, are just under the impression that there’s something wrong with gluten and try to avoid it. When I’m President, there will be a much greater emphasis on gluten. That’s a promise.

After lunch, Rob went to the spa for a facial. Another bust: the facialist didn’t massage Rob’s hands and feet during the mud mask. And they didn’t even have a micro-needling machine—unheard of! The result? Rob left with no facial glow. That’s right. You heard me. No facial glow. Later, at dinner with his buddies, Rob ordered a pricey bottle of wine, but it didn’t taste right, so he sent it back. Sure enough, Rob’s pal Stan made a snarky comment, and before long the two were going at it. Rob, with his sunburn and pulled muscle, could not defend himself against the smaller and wilier Stan, who punched him in the nose, causing him to bleed all over the mushroom flatbread. Rob had to sleep with toilet paper in both nostrils, which, combined with the unusually high pillows, made it impossible to get any rest.

Rob paused at this point in his story, unable to go on. This wine incident cuts to the core of who we are as a people. It took courage to send that wine back. Rob is an example to all of us, and he’s here tonight. Rob, stand up!

In closing, when you hear about people like Rob or Blair—people with first-world problems—remember that they are still human beings. I’ll be taking a break from my campaign next week and heading to the Four Seasons in Maui, where, rest assured, I’ll be focussing on ways to improve this great first-world country. I’d appreciate your vote. ♦