Payday: A short tragic love story
Oh! its pay day.
I am supposed to be happy right? ‘hihihihihihi’.
My salary entered my account this month with so much confidence.
For about 5 days, I was rich. Not “generational wealth” rich, but “checking balance in public without flinching” rich. I opened my banking app and even checked the balance twice, just to confirm I was not daydreaming, just to let the number sit in my chest for one more second before reality remembered my address.
Rent took its portion first, no greeting, straight to business.
ECG came for its own like an old debt from a past life. Internet cleared its throat politely and said, “Don’t forget me.” Transport quietly removed another chunk, the way a pickpocket removes a wallet, gently, so you barely notice until you pat your pocket.
Food was already standing at the door before I even opened it, arms folded, tapping its foot.
My salary is suddenly looking malnourished.
By the time I finished paying everything, my salary has magically vanished.
The kind of disappearance that will force you to see a man of God to look into your destiny.
And then, just when I thought I could finally breathe, my family remembered that I exist. Like they have a payday alert set up somewhere.
“Please, can you send me something small?”
In Ghana, “something small” is never small ”oooo”
“Something small” has ended relationships, cancelled brunch plans, and rewritten entire budgets in real time. “Something small” can change your mood for days.
So now I am sitting here looking at my account balance like two strangers who have nothing left to say to each other.
The interesting part? I am not even broke. Broke people do not own bank accounts!
But me? Oh, I do own accounts. Four of them! Different banks! GH¢200 in each, spread out like a diversified portfolio, like I am hedging against inflation and not just avoiding the shame of one account saying GH¢800 and looking depressed about it.
Now you tell me, is that the behaviour of a broke person? That is financial strategy. That is wealth distribution. Please respect it.
It is just my salary that goes to visit her friends. Oh! Light bill said hello, data bundle sends her regards! Groceries? ”hahahahahah”, Transport says thanks for passing by.
At this point, payday is no longer payday.
It is handover ceremony.
The money enters, looks around, and starts distributing itself.
I just stand there and watch.
I thought of giving myself a treat. A treat? ”God abeg”
Sky Bar 25 on my mind. Heard the price of a simple mashed potato and had heart palpitations.
Now to avoid any casualty, I need to sit and listen to the rest of the prices.
Now you understand why I am antisocial; going out poses serious health risks to me and my bank account and I have advised myself accordingly.
I have accepted that I am not broke. I have just committed to a long-distance relationship with money under duress. Not as if I have a choice! It comes to visit at month end, spend 5 nights and travels again.
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