Rich man, poor man
Posted by Johnnie
Money that comes from an ATM on the day you get paid is always so much sweeter, isn’t it? If I get money out on pay day, it always seems to be crisp new notes, unfolded and smelling of success. The machine seems pleased for me. It’s almost as if it’s saying “Yeah, you’re the man. You’re the man! There’s plenty more where that came from, baby!”
Ask the machine for money towards the end of the month, though, when you’re scratting around to find enough change to buy a pint of milk, and it’s a different story. The machine whirs and beeps and grumbles, seeming to take an inordinate amount of time to check my card, and eventually spits it back out at me along with a grubby old tenner, ripped in two and held together with sellotape. The machine is disgusted with me. “You should be ashamed of yourself.” it mutters as I slink away.
I know, of course, that I should try to save some of the money from month to month. That way the machine will always be my friend. Unfortunately, I now live in Cambridge, so that pretty much buggers that idea.