"I hope you have your reciept."

I was absolutely gobsmacked yesterday when I opened the gift certificate that my bosses had given me. $150 to be spent at a posh Soho spa?? $150 to use to my heart's content? "Oh my god," I found myself saying aloud as stared dumbly at the gift certificate while waiting for the elevator. Of course every time I start to hate my job, something like this happens, something to mollify my loathing. A few months ago it was the impromptu $100 to be spent on dinner and drinks with friends. Sometimes I really have no room to complain and I shall not complain while getting my 75 minute massage.

On the other hand, my stupid MTA monthly subway pass, which costs $76, decided to not work anymore. And I only bought the bloody thing on the 18th! Oh cruel cruel fate, why must you mock me?