Pretentious Introvert...

Mike Baird: Please. Please fight him. No one cares who wins or loses. Kick his ass from Parliament House to Star City. Do it for the disabled kids he’s hurting with his healthcare cuts. Do it for the environment. Please. 

Malcolm Turnbull: First, look like you’re his friend. Make yourself look like a respite from all the ass kicking he’s had in his life. Then punch him in the fucking face. Karma. 

Tony Abbott: You should try, but unless you grab his ears to hold him still, he’ll probably weasel his way out of the fight. A better method would be to ask him a direct question and watch him dig his own grave with his words. 

Julia Gillard: Do not engage. I repeat, do not engage. Did you not see her hand Abbott’s ass to him during that one women’s rights speech? Do you have a death wish? 

Kevin Rudd: Okay, maybe he wasn’t the best Prime Minister, but he certainly wasn’t the worst. He got us through the GFC. He tried, I guess. Now he’s just quietly doing something or another with international policy. Leave him alone. 

John Howard: At the very least can you wax his eyebrows. Rather than fighting him, let’s just stick him in a detention centre and let the asylum seekers have him. The people in Nauru deserve that much. 

Howard Holt: DO NOT FIGHT HE PROBABLY HAS CHINA ON HIS SIDE. OR ALIENS. OR WHATEVER THE FUCK LIVES IN THE DEEP SEA.

So last night after Uni, I was walking up to the bus stop. Exciting, I know. And before I get into this equally exciting parable, let me just state that I’d just gone through a 9 hour long marathon of back to back classes, in which I was surrounded almost entirely by first years, and had spent the previous 5 days working.

Anyway, there I was, on the verge of zombie shuffling down the last street I had to traverse before I got to the blessed bus stop. I was tired, seeing as I hadn’t had a day to myself in almost a week, and I was hungry, seeing as I’d had breakfast and two sushi rolls that day. So how I managed to notice the $100 in cash fall from a someone’s pocket may very well be an act of God himself.

But notice it I did, and what did I do with that knowledge? Without really stopping to consider any alternative, I picked the money up, took my headphones out, and ran after the rightful owner.

But the story doesn’t stop there. I wouldn’t describe the owner as being beside herself with gratitude, but she was obviously happy to get the money back. And considering the numerous stereotypes surrounding my generation, and how untrustworthy people can be, she was thankful. In a decision that took as much processing time as my decision to pick the money up, she split the cash in half, and gave me a share as a reward.

Needless to say, I was shocked. I didn’t return the money expecting a reward, I did it simply because I’m a good person. I know what it’s likes having to count your pennies and stick to a strict budget in order to ensure you can afford the necessities. For all I know, she could’ve needed that $100 to get her through to pay day, so losing it would cause more grief for her than any monetary gain for me.

Despite trying to turn down the reward, she insisted, eventually walking away. For a few seconds I stood there, looking at the money in my hand just trying to come to grips with what had just happened. By being honest and returning cash that someone had dropped, I had been given 50% of it as a reward.