Sent off the agency agreement today. And OMG there was a reason I only equeried agents – Almost R30 to send a letter to America! Are they insane?! SAPO, this better get there, you bastards.
Anyway, duly depleted of my cash (that’s 1 and 1/2 boxes of fags, or almost two KFC streetwise 2s, or two beers. *sigh*) I trundled back home.
I so love walking past men toting machine guns.
Well, not really, actually.
Of course, I had to pass the Spar as the coin vans are coming in. Normally if I see cash vehicles I make the world’s biggest diversion because I just don’t feel like being butchered in the cross-fire if someone decides to do an armed robbery-slash-cash-in-transit-hijacking, but sometimes it’s just impossible.
As you can tell, no one tried to rob anyone, and the security guards didn’t suddenly snap and start killing passers-by.
Still, I don’t like it.
So money was on my mind today. I was thinking about how truly trodden-over waitresses are. When I waitressed, I averaged between R120 and R180 a shift. That was including my R30 wages for the day. If I worked a double shift (7 am to about 1 am but in truth you get home at about 2) I was doing really well if I came home with more than R350.
That means on a shift that came close to 18 hours (gah – check my maths – I’m shocking) I made around $45. From that you have to deduct the R30 to get a taxi home, because there are no busses at night. So…$41.
Of course, instead of going straight home, by the end of a double all
you I want is alcohol and to get off your feet while your brain is churning. So it would be off to either Mitchells or Erte for a drink several drinks.
Yep, there’s a reason I was poor.
Still, interesting things used to happen to me back then. 😀
ETA: Tarantino! For the love of Bast will you stop bringing giant locusts into my bedroom to play with. No, I don’t think they make good gifts for people, although I appreciate the sentiment. Things that leap into my face with huge scratchy legs are not my idea of a fun.