An out-of-work friend invited me out to dinner the other evening to celebrate the new job she had just landed. I don't have to explain to any reader here the difficulty it's been these last several years to find work, but she pulled it off after many months of searching.
She, like me, was born to be independently wealthy. It just hasn't worked out to our advantage yet.
So we had dinner at the Burough. I ate from the appetizer menu, which was half-priced at the time we were there. Well, I also had a rum and Diet. The thing is that between trying to be good and coming off a round of antibiotics I felt the need to eat, and drink, lightly. Yeah, that's a rare feeling for me.
I had to stifle my feelings of guilt, though, for eating on the tab of the, until recently, unemployed. It reminded me of the time when the Cuban family we help resettle finally had a few dollars extra, and they wanted to take us out for Sunday lunch at McDonald's, and I decided I needed more coffee, but I couldn't figure how to get it without my Cuban bud jumping up with his $2.
Regardless, the important thing is setting the stage and participating in the celebration. It doesn't matter who pays, and sometimes being the guest lets the host claim a bit of self-respect that could well be long over due. Frankly, I was pleased that someone would invite me to enjoy such a moment, and that gets a card.