Brian

Wayne knew about the haters. He knew what they said about him, the names they called him behind his back: “sell-out”, “shill”, “corporate whore”.
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He also knew that the reality was that they were just jealous. Jealous that he had figured out a way to make a living—truth be told, a VERY good living—just being a thermos, and that all he had to do to make it happen was give the good people at Marlboro a tiny spot of ad space on his chest.
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So the rest of them could tsk, tsk about him being “in bed with Big Tobacco” and take comfort in their perceived moral superiority all they wanted. He knew they were all just jealous they hadn’t thought of it first.