Here’s the problem: Payday makes you think you have money
you don’t really have. Makes you think, for a fleeting moment, that you can
finally buy those things you’ve had your heart set on for the last four weeks.
Like most South Africans, my budget is tight. I toil hard
each month to keep a roof over my head and a car filled with petrol in my
parking spot. I pay back debt, make sure my medical aid and insurance get their
monthly instalment, fill my freezer and then have to choose between things like
a new pair of shoes/pants, a haircut, breakfast with a friend, buying something
for the house, spoiling my favourite kids, buying birthday/Christmas/other
special occasion pressies – basically anything that’s not covered by a debit
order or automated payment just after payday. There’s usually enough money for
two, maybe three, extras. And a payday pizza, of course.
I’m terrible with money – when I have it, I want to spend
it. So payday has become one of my best and worst days rolled into one. The payday
euphoria makes me think I can have all the things I want, because I have money
in the bank, but the bitch slap of reality reminds me that if I want to eat
(hell yes) and get around (yes again) for the rest of the month, I can’t shop
willy nilly.
So, essentially, there’s no euphoria around payday. All it’s
come to mean is that I can refill the empty freezer, which is a necessary thing
for sure. But my dreams of living like a modern day celebrity are dashed with
every SMS that says money is leaving my account to pay for the privilege of a
middle class existence.
To make things a little less bleak, I'm going to plan,
carefully, the things I want to do with that little bit of left over salary –
the enjoyment of anticipation. And every now and then, I throw common sense
into the wind and spend money with a slight irresponsibility that has me
begging dinners at my parents.
