Or money for working?

It struck me today that I had never before fully grasped the concept of working for money. Before now, my parents,the marvelous beings that they are, (note the lack of sarcasm) have always given me "pocket money" for just being me, and have even gone as far to increase it by a certain amount after every birthday.

So now, I find out what it's really like. Toiling away and making mistakes and being shouted at and making new friends and aching all over and being so bloody nice all the time. Just for a bit of money. One of the nicest bits, of course, is the friends, who make you feel that little bit better when something goes wrong. You have a common goal with these people, and therefore you help each other. Which is nice.

I have been forced into compulsory situations all my life (i.e. eleven long long long years of education) without an immediate reward in sight, aside from gaining knowledge - which most of my age fail to see as a reward. Therefore, I am constantly surprised when I remember that I am not doing this because I have to. I am doing this for the money! Money for doing something as loathesome as being on my feet for eight hours and smiling and spilling red wine over white skirts.

So possibly the best bit of working is, so far, calculating how much money I will recieve in five days time.

Or the free biscuit I got today, eaten illegitimately in the store cupboard, choking on crumbs when the manager walked past. Perhaps he has a sniffer dog nose, and smelt the biscuit from afar.