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Pay Day, that time of the month every working bloke dreams of and works toward: the period when what ever is owned for time worked becomes payable. Even if you will be broke again in two weeks, a week or a day, you feel great for a second. Pay day is a day of celebration again , even if short lived. The worker celebrates being alive by a drink at the bar, or a movie or going out to dinner.
I am fortunate to have my check direct deposited into my account. I do not get the rush of having some one hand me my check. On the other hand I do not have to hassle with breaking away from the office and going to bank to deposit or cash said check. Just knowing the pay period has come is good enough for me. Some payday morning I get off the train downtown and stop at one of my favorite breakfast restaurants in honor of payday, other days I’ll stop at my coffee shop and get half a pound of my favorite coffee ground. Today I stopped at the german bakery round the office from my office. I thought with the change I have in my wallet I’ll get a pastry. Sometimes during the week I’ll stop for a couple of Kaisers or rolls to have for lunch. The girl will usually throw in a sweet roll or two free. The Kaisers run about .45 cents a piece So, I figure a sweet roll cannot be that much by itself. The other issue is the baker is built in a historic Salt Lake building. The building has no access. I usually grab someone walking by and have them send out, or I’ll knock on the window and last option is to call them with my cell and let them know I am out front and he skip out and take my order. The point is I cannot leisurely wonder up and down the shelves of baked goods. I just order and hope I have enough to cover my order. This morning I ordered one cream filled sweet roll. There was a young guy wearing a baker’s apron milling round the front of the time. I drove my power chair up under the widow and rapped on the window pane. He started and looked round and started again when he saw , what seemed, my disembodied had waving back and forth trying to get his attention. He came out and took my order and quoted $2.10!! Yowsser Arafat! $2.10 for a stupid sweet roll. He took me by surprise and turned and skipped back in the bakery before I could say “ Just hold on a minute, did I just hear you say $2.10?” By the time he had skipped back out with one sweet roll in the white little paper sack and I could just not break his heart. So I ponied up the cash and change and held the bag out in front of me like whatever was inside my break. $2.10 for one stinking sweet roll, I bet I could have got half a dozen glazed doughnuts, cookies and coffee for the same amount of money. As I rolled to work I kept repeating a mantra “ “I am worth it…I am worth it , I am worth it.
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