Last week, I saw a friend. The time in his company was not unenjoyable, the minutes spent together mostly pleasant. He told me how things were for him, his challenges and joys.
But I realised, as our time together came to a close, that I was now too important for such things.
I say that I need to go, take out a pencil and small sheaf of paper, scribble down the sum.
Ah yeah, course. No worries. I really appreciate it, he says. I needed someone to talk to today.
No problem, I say, and slide my hastily drafted invoice across the table.
He laughs and looks down. What’s this?
I mutter awkwardly. Ah, that’s the bill, my… invoice. No need to settle it now. Just, when you can.
Haha, he says. Very good.
He looks back up smiling and sees that I am not.
What for?
For the time we’ve spent together.
He is confused.
What do you mean? Do you genuinely want me to pay you for the last half an hour chat?
Uh, well… It was approximately forty-two minutes actually. I raise my watch and tap it to demonstrate. If I was feeling particularly mischievous, I would call it forty-three. And, I am giving you a healthy discount, as you can see.
I prod my finger at the base of the bill, where he can see my percentage reduction.
Mates’ rates, I say amicably.
This is a joke, surely.
I remain impassive, now committed on this path. I shake my head.
What the fuck is this? April fucking fools? What the fuck is wrong with you?
Nothing at all, I say, I just know my worth.
Are you serious? That’s not how this works. He gestures from me to him and back.
I know perfectly well how friendship works, I sniff offended, and I have decided that its current model is not serving me. Would you not say that you have benefitted from our interaction this morning? Would you not say I have provided you with a valuable service?
Well, I have benefitted from our interaction, yes, definitely. But service? Is that how you view it now?
Life is very simple, I say. There are service providers and service receivers. I am in the former camp. And I have been taken advantage of for far too long.
I point again, less gently now, at the bottom line.
He starts to cry.
But we’ve known each other since we were seven years old.
Six. You were six. I was seven.
Even fucking longer then!
Well, for you. The same length for me.
I can’t believe this.
Well, I’m sorry, but I just can’t allow myself to be taken for granted anymore, I say. But as I said, no rush. I smile generously.
No, I’ll settle up now. I don’t want to be in your debt.
Excellent, I say, my details are on the form.
He pulls out his phone and presses his thumb against the screen to unlock his online banking app. He might be shaking, I can’t be sure, but it takes him a few attempts to log in. He enters the numbers, presses the button, and I feel the sweet, warming buzz from my own device. He stands to leave without a word.
I am unsure if he will be a repeat customer. But the rest will follow soon enough. For what is the value in time that you cannot put a price on?