I had several encounters with a particular acquaintance today. Let’s call her Alex, as that is in fact her name. For some reason, I kept on running into her. Over the course of the day, I got rather angry.
Firstly, in the morning. One of my lessons was cancelled, so off I went to the common room to hopefully get some peace and quiet and get some work done. Alex was there, and naturally we got to talking.
“Did your lesson get cancelled too?”
“No… I have a free.”
“Oh. Do you have many frees?”
“A double every day, and two on Wednesday.”
“How come?”
“I do three subjects.”
“Ah.”
A little background. I’m an A-level student. I do four A-levels - English, Politics, Chemistry and Biology. They are difficult subjects to take at advanced level, particularly the sciences, and although I find them difficult, I’m perversely pleased that I can cope. Being in the sixth form and almost grown-up, the school trust me enough to give me free periods when I don’t have lessons. However, I don’t have many (two double periods a week) and I need them to get work done.
Alex does three A-levels. Not for any particular reason (four is the norm), but all right, I’ll go with that. Maybe there wasn’t another subject she was interested in. And it follows that with a subject missing from her timetable, she’d have a lot of free periods. And it also follows that she wouldn’t have nearly as much to do in them as I have to in mine. I went back to work (and nibbling gingerbread).
Later, the conversation turned to “pocket” money for some reason. “How much do you get?” someone asked her.
“Two hundred pounds a month.”
I nearly choked on my gingerbread Christmas tree. Even if she’s buying all her clothes, no one can say that’s not a lot of money. My parents are comfortable if not well-off, and give me thirty pounds per month.
Later still…
I went along to my Politics lesson and sat down. I was tired. Everyone was tired. Alex ambled in and announced in general, “I can’t be arsed with this.”
I was feeling snarky. “And how many frees did you have today?”
“The whole morning…”
I rested my case. At that point I was annoyed that she had the balls to say she couldn’t be arsed when it was half one in the afternoon and she hadn’t been to any lessons yet.
And lastly… during the Politics class, the debate somehow turned to what we would all do if we won the lottery. The assumption was winning a million pounds. What would you do if you won a million? I said what I would do (for the record, finish off school and university, live off the interest and try to make it as a writer) and then it was Alex’s turn.
“Would a million be enough?” quoth she. “I’d need… ten million. Maybe a billion.”
I contented myself with asking, “Do you even know how much a billion is?” but I was rather annoyed.
Each of this little exchanges taken separately isn’t all that Pit-rant-worthy, I know, but taken all together I can’t help but be angry. Here we have this girl, who is frankly lazy (I’m saying that from more than today’s evidence; I’ve known her for a while), doesn’t do anything she doesn’t have to, has all the money she wants, and yet… she can’t be arsed going to lessons. Ten million pounds ain’t enough for her.
I do four A-levels because I have to. Because I want to get into a good university and get a good job, which I will need to pay off my horrendous tution top-up fees (but that’s a whole other rant) and while I would love to sit around and not do anything, I can’t afford to. It rankles that this girl can afford to, but doesn’t even seem to see how privileged she is. How many opportunities she has. She could do anything, be anyone, but she can’t be arsed.
Fuck her. Argh.