There isn’t a MasterClass in the world that prepares you for the jaw-dropping audacity of someone who burns through cash like it’s confetti, then expects you to be the fire department when their financial house inevitably goes up in flames. Enter our heroine, a 26-year-old master of fiscal fantasy, who’s perfected the art of living beyond her means while maintaining the delusion that «deserving nice things» is a legitimate budgeting strategy. Armed with no steady income, a daily $6 latte habit, and the economic planning skills of a goldfish, she signs a lease that would make a Wall Street banker sweat.

Of course, reality has a funny way of showing up uninvited, usually around month three when the rent is due. Suddenly, the same person who dismissed sound financial advice as «negativity» is crafting tearful SOS messages, complete with promises to «get back on her feet,» as if her feet were ever firmly planted on solid ground to begin with. The emotional manipulation playbook gets dusted off: accusations of fake family loyalty, threats of homelessness, and the classic deployment of Mom as backup guilt artillery.

The thing is, somewhere between the artisanal coffee runs and the «I deserve this» mantra, personal accountability got lost in the shuffle.