|Everything and Nothing|
This weekend a group of mates and I decided to go and paint the town different shades of vomit (aka: drink until you cannot stand) and before the night had even begun I was faced with a moral dilemma of note. First, it was my friend who was upon favourably by the ATM gods and then is was my turn. The ATM in use was my local and personal bank and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work out which one I’m referring to.
My friend selected the R500 withdrawal button and landed up waiting 5-6mins while the ATM made more noise than Jenna Jameson during one of her best sessions. Yes…I went there. Back to the issue at hand, so after the allotted time the ATM eventually spat out an additional R300 for my friend. Feeling like he had been taken for a ride harder than…errm…Jenna Jameson, he checked his balance only to discover that only his original request of R500 had been withdrawn from his accounts. I know, right? Gold mine of note…
So we did what any curious 20 something year old would do, we tried again only this time, it was me ready for a…errm…Jenna Jameson session. I inserted my card into the Ass To Mouth receptor, selected the R1000 option – because I’m charitable like that – and after the same allotted time that my friend’s wait took, the ATM spat out an additional R900…it’s ridiculous, I know, but totally factual. After checking my balance and also discovering that only the selected amount was withdrawn from my account, I gave the air a little fist pump. We stepped away from the Ass To Mouth contraption and walked away feeling like winners, as though we had managed to beat the banking system and all its rules and regulations without doing anything illegal…I’m not going to lie, it felt good and I preceded to treat my friends to round after round of tasty beverages. What? It was the “right” thing to do…or so I thought.
The next thing I knew, we were being dragged from the nightclub by 6 heavily armed government officials…kidding. We got smashed and had a rocking night regardless of the Ass To Mouth interaction. The next day though, heavily laden with hangover drapery, I allowed myself to reflect on the machine’s misfortune and began to grow what they call in the human world, a conscience.
I know, it’s shocking! The development of a conscience I mean. C’mon people! Regardless, it has played on my mind, and not just played the tambourine, but bashed the conga’s on my mind over the last 48hrs. So, where does this leave me…well, the way I see it, with only one option…
Yes, I said that sh*t…I’m going to put R900 in an envelope and give it back to the bank in question. I’ve considered the alternatives, giving it to a charity, but sometimes I’m skeptical about where that money, especially small donations land up. I’ve considered giving it to a random guy on the street but I don’t have to tell you all the “stereotypes” that come to mind when considering giving a homeless person money…exactly. I thought about giving it to a friend who really needs it but I’ve kind of nailed that down to passing the buck and I’m not prepared to do that. So, in the end, it feels like the right thing to do and I’ve made up my mind about the whole thing and will not be influenced otherwise.
Think me small, think me big. Think me honest, think me soft…whatever your opinion of me, think it through and put yourself in my shoes before you act in your next Jenna Jameson movie appearance.