22:30 ...
It's 22:30. It's been a hell of a day. I raise my hat and wipe my brow despite the femme fatale who sits in front of me. She's watching, but I don't care. I've succeeded today. She knows that and she'll pay. I take a look around the room. Those who know nod in solemn appreciation, those who don't dart eyes towards the ground. Her eyes don't leave mine as she signs the cheque. Two kinds of validation for a job well done. She slides the paper promise into my hand and lets hers linger. Subtle promise in this faux noir world we live in.
I watch her open the door. She nods towards her card, a paper declaration of things to come. I hate to see her go but I love to watch her leave.
Alone, cash in hand, my sense of satisfaction yearns for celebration. Release. Physical notification of a job well done. I'll hit the off license.
But it's 10:30. Off licenses are closed by law at 10:00. What the fuck?
When did it become a bad idea to relax with a drink after an arbitrary time? Is it linked to the mandatory '8 hour sleep' myth? A 'clever' ploy to stop alcoholism? A pressured move by the Irish pubs owners to recover from years of greed? What about those who work unconventional hours? Those kind hearted tax paying citizens who just want to unwind after a busy day? And why narrow the sale of a lucrative taxable item?
Who voted this law into being? What was the real reason for this law being enacted?
And how can I punish those who made it be?
Disclaimer: grabaGAFF is all for a long days work, productivity and enhancing Irelands global rep. GrabaGAFF is also all for reward, recognition and release in forms adequate to the individual. Life is hard enough and nannying leads to bad things. Jebus taught us that.