I am a somebody.
You will recognize me in the street as a somebody, and we may cross each other’s path every day, or daven Shacharis, Mincha, and Maariv together in 770 every single day.
My wife and I are well-off financially. Not because we are well-educated or because we have great jobs, but because our parents are rich with “old money”. We are accustomed to getting discounts at most Crown Heights stores because our parents know the owner and because our families donate hundreds of thousands of dollars to the yeshivas and girl schools.
I am gezhe.
Lubavitch Magazines and newsletters love writing articles about my great-great-great grandfather because we call him “elter zeide” and because his childhood story includes White Russia, hiding from Russian police and learning in an underground cheder.