Many years ago, a wise man said to me, don’t go chasing money, for it will come to you. Just do your thing and one fine day, it will show up at your door.
Well, I’ve done my thing and haven’t heard a knock since. Would Mr. Money pass by without knocking, thinking I was busy?
No way, that wouldn’t make any sense at all. I bet the wise man who advised me knew what he was talking about. Besides if you have to show up at someone’s place, you best be knocking. What’s the point of just passing by! But impatience got the better of me and every now and then I would find myself looking through the window. Just in case ol’ money needed help finding my house. You know how them authorities plan the city out. Crossroads, stages, blocks and mains. Give me time and I am sure I can map out where arteries and veins run inside a body, but these roads, I wouldn’t even think of giving it a shot. Unless Mr.Money was also a cab driver in London, the old geezer was likely to get confused! His memory must be failing and he could do with a little wave from the window, just in time to remind him that this was the house he was supposed to turn into and unburden himself.
I say burden because I’ve been assuming he would carry the money in bills, but I could just as well be wrong. Maybe it was just going to be a letter from some honourable bank? Nowadays, banks hardly bothered with worrying about what people might think of them. After all, hadn’t we figured out that they profited from our money? Why would anyone watch over our money if in the end they were expected to return it intact and pay us a bit extra for keeping it with them? They had to not just be better off than before, put probably make a killing while they’re at it.
So, old dough man was going to come with a letter, probably in a briefcase with brass locks and a leather handle. What an exciting thought! Instead of incessantly waving from the window, I was now waiting at the gate. I didn’t want my fortune to walk away simply because my windows were not clear enough to see through. I had kept my gate locked all the time and now began wondering if this had discouraged old man gold from reaching out to me. Couldn’t he have merely called out my name? Surely he was not that lazy! Imagine locating my address, walking all the way up to my street and then simply returning with the entire burden of my fortune simply because the house owner appeared to be a cautious fellow who kept his gate locked! Even a pizza delivery lad would have more perseverance than that! In any case, I wasn’t taking chances. So I removed the padlock and even oiled the hinges. In normal circumstances, that should have been enough; painting the house a bright ochre, would seem an overkill. But not in this case. What more could I do to make this laggard’s life easier?
Come to think about it, I had very little knowledge about the character of my expected guest. Wasn’t he just a glorified postman? Like I had earlier mentioned, my bit was done, so all money-delivery-man had to do, was deliver. Such a big fuss he was making about it!
Well, time went by and then some friends too. I had settled back to waving from my window. I kept it spitting clean though and a lot of village folk waved at me every morning and sometimes in the evening too, if the light was enough. Then one day i just got tired of waiting. I was pretty sure by now that the old fool had forgotten his duty and messed up. Maybe he had delivered my fortune to the wrong person. It didn’t matter any more. What would I do with my fortune anyway? So I got back to my routine. Every few months i would find myself wishing that the lazy, ill-organised, imbecile would show up with the letter; not because i needed it anymore, but just to know I had earned it.
Then, one day, i heard a knock. It had to be Mr.Where-the-hell-were-you-all-this-time! I opened the door, and instead of an old weathered face, I was surprised to see a young lad in a two-piece suit with his hair pressed tightly to his skin. He said he was from the bank. There you go, I thought to myself, finally the wise man’s words were about to come true! I certainly had not forseen that the bank would send an enterprising young lad instead of a hobbling old man. The banker boy went straight to business. He said that my account had run out of money and that since I was not maintaining a certain minimum balance, they would soon close it down. You can imagine my surprise.
As I gathered my wits, he said that there was some good news too. Well, well, well, finally, I thought to myself. About time.
I had begun to smile and then stopped when he said that the bank was willing to buy my house. Apparently, his boss – the bank manager – felt that it was one of the better maintained houses on the block. Selling would allow me to keep my account as well. The deep emptiness that I had begun to feel affected my hearing. His voice trailed off into the distance just as he was saying something about my good fortune.