Mother's Love III

Hmm.

Cutting my finger at work today isn't a fun thing to happen to you. My part-time job is working as a waiter in some big-arsed caucasian's Convention Centre down town. Apparently, they provide insurance for their employees, so I'm willing to overlook the caucasian's big-arsedness.

I cut my finger when I was handling the cover of a buffet-dish, and at first I didn't realise what had happened. However, an immense amount of blood flowing out subsequently caused me to squeal like a pig in the process of being slaughtered. I rushed to my supervisor, and I was out of the Convention Centre within 10 minutes with a small bandage on my left forefinger.

I called my mother to tell her of what happened, and this is the conversation:

'Mum, I just hurt myself at work'

No reply

'Mum, I just hurt myself at work'

'Ok, so when can you get your pay?'

'the cut's deep, but I think the bleeding's controlled already'

'Yeah, so how much do you think you will get paid for today?'

You can call it being pragmatic, but what happend to the usual case of mothers asking 'oh, are you alright dear?'. Absolutely disappointing.

'So I think I gotta go to the hospital, just to ensure that everything's ok.'

'WHAT??? ARE YOU NUTS? DO YOU KNOW HOW EXPENSIVE TH...'

' I can claim my cash from work'

No reply

'I... can claim... the cash.... from work.... heard it?'

'So how much did you earn today?'


As you can see, I have a very, very loving mother whose only concern is whether i get my cash and not whether my finger is in danger of infection and susequent amputation. I simply luuuurrrrve my mother.

Cheers,

Crawldaddy