Money or Love?

In the past two weeks, I think I’ve been offered a piece of about $500 million if only I’d hand over my banking details.

Today, three more arrived in my e-mail: one about the assassinated deputy governor of Baghdad, with a hidden account – $30 million – a deceased foreigner in Burkina Faso whose money can only be taken out under the radar of the UN - $15 million – and 850,000 euros in the London Million International Lottery though the office is, apparently, in Ouagadougou, Burkina Fasa with an e-mail address in France all because my e-mail address was selected in a world-wide lottery.

I must, of course, keep these financial dealings confidential, or risk losing it all. I think I can cope with that; it’s only fake money.

* * *

I went to a job interview a few weeks ago and had a good time of it – I don’t really stress out at interviews anymore (I’m looking for something, and they’re looking for someone suitable, no big).

So earlier this week, I got a phone call telling me that I was unsuccessful by one place. Regrets all round, ‘we’ll keep you on our file in case someone doesn’t want the job’, yadda, yadda…

Yesterday, I told my parent. She stared at me, outraged: “What? How could there be ten other people better than you?”

Sometimes, all it takes is one instinctive, off-the-cuff comment to make you feel the love and the disappointment vanishes.

No amount of money can buy that.