This morning I woke up at 7.27am. My alarm goes off at 7.30 however my body knows how much I despise the sound, so it has ever so kindly learnt to outsmart the iPhone5. (Take that Mr Jobs)
Anyway there I was, starkers, in my little bedroom (that was built to be a laundry) contemplating which pair of denim shorts to wear to work. Yes, I do work in a fancy office thank-you. There are a lot of beautiful people and beautiful shoes. Celebrities stroll in and out. However I don’t try to keep up. There is no point. Most of my shoes have to be enclosed anyway. I am also a waitress lest we forget. And I am not in a financial position to have two separate wardrobes. Not to mention find time to change between shifts.
Anyway. There I was. Thinking about blue vs brown acid wash when I remembered it was pay-day. My first pay-day on this new contract. I grabbed the aforementioned iPhone5 and took a squiz at my balance.
What happened next posed a problem.
They had made a mistake. They had over-paid me. By a lot. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know who to tell. Everyone in the house was asleep. (Poor people tend to sleep in. So that’s what my friends were doing obviously.)
This all happened to coincide with the very first night I had borrowed my auntie’s shiny white car. It was parked close to my laundry-like private door. This car is pretty fancy itself. It doesn’t need to be told when to wipe the windows. It just knows. It doesn’t need to be told when to turn the lights on. It just knows. It knows stuff that even I don’t know. For example, it knows when I am about to hit the motorbike parked behind me.
So there I was. Filthy RICH and climbing into a GENIUS car on my way to my FANCY work. I felt like a grown up. I had my lips pursed more than usual. (I was still wearing shorts, a dangly jingly sun peace pendant necklace and 12 dollar shoes, but that’s neither here nor there)
When I got to work I bought a yoghurt cup. That’s what the ladies do I think. Usually I bring an apple from home or buy a sandwich at Coles. I was a totally different person. A much more secure, prettier (I put on mascara for the occasion) and speedy person. (Don’t forget about the car)
I felt like a pirate. With a treasure chest of stolen dollar-dollar-bills-yall. I was flying on the high seas of payroll mishaps! Captain Mat Sparrow! But somehow it didn’t feel right. Digging into my yoghurt cup I knew something was wrong. I felt a little sick and I am so not lactose intolerant.
I texted my two friends I trust to have good moral compasses and divulged my dirty little secret about being over-paid. They both told me what I didn’t want to hear. I needed to tell someone.
At first I was really sad. It took me 20 minutes to pick up the phone. It seemed really unfair.
It was mine. I wasn’t a bad pirate. I hadn’t asked to commandeer the ship; the ship had just been direct-deposited to me. I was quite annoyed at the knot in my stomach. I was thinking about new jeans. I was very confused to say the least.
But then I remembered my favourite things about pirates.
Their dreadlocks for one… are awesome. And I get those bi-weekly anyway!
I like their pants and their drinking problems. I have both of those as well!
I like their free-spirits. And. Low and Behold! I have that as well! (Hence remaining in my very low pay-bracket probably)
So really… I don’t need the pirate treasure. I have the pirate life!
So I called payroll.
And for lunch I had the sushi on special.
Hashtag #StillWinning #SeeYouInTheWater
Aww, matey, they should have let you keep the treasure for your goodness.