I had to go back to work on a Sunday. For 4 hours, to solve some technicality issue that a colleagues was neither qualified nor had a pay grade high enough to solve. In normal circumstances, this would have been painful, the time meant for leisure being spent at work. But the pain was eased.
Because they paid me 25 dollars an hour.
"100 dollars in the bank", I boasted. Easy money. They concurred, for they did not enjoy the luxury of overtime."Like that, not bad lar", they affirmed my statement, my opinion. Of course, I was paid for what they did for free. My time was not wasted.
Because they paid me 25 dollars an hour.
"I do OT daily. Go to work an hour early and there is enough work for me to stay an hour more later", I claim proudly. "Your treat today man!", they respond, hoping, only to see their hopes dashed by my own stinginess. The more you have, the less you become willing to share it. The greed to accumulate, not that it made me significantly more well off, but just the knowledge that the number was going up, was strangely comforting. "At least they are paying for it", I consoled myself as yet for another day, I trudged home late, with barely enough time to exercise, put pen to paper, learn Macro or just go for that walk, all that I had planned to do everyday after work. All that could be sacrificed.
Because they paid me 25 dollars an hour.
An hour of my life, that now could be bought, for 25 dollars an hour.
Because they paid me 25 dollars an hour.
"100 dollars in the bank", I boasted. Easy money. They concurred, for they did not enjoy the luxury of overtime."Like that, not bad lar", they affirmed my statement, my opinion. Of course, I was paid for what they did for free. My time was not wasted.
Because they paid me 25 dollars an hour.
"I do OT daily. Go to work an hour early and there is enough work for me to stay an hour more later", I claim proudly. "Your treat today man!", they respond, hoping, only to see their hopes dashed by my own stinginess. The more you have, the less you become willing to share it. The greed to accumulate, not that it made me significantly more well off, but just the knowledge that the number was going up, was strangely comforting. "At least they are paying for it", I consoled myself as yet for another day, I trudged home late, with barely enough time to exercise, put pen to paper, learn Macro or just go for that walk, all that I had planned to do everyday after work. All that could be sacrificed.
Because they paid me 25 dollars an hour.
An hour of my life, that now could be bought, for 25 dollars an hour.
Still waiting for that treat mate ;)
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