Two friends were talking while they drank in a bar. One asked the other about going abroad. The other answered that he had already done it and that he would do it again, only this time it would be for good. The friend who had initiated the conversation looked suprised and asked his fellow to explain it better. The fellow breathed deeply and simply said that he was sick of all the bullshit he had to put up with in his country. The first friend, now visibly worried, asked what exactly made him sick, imagining something like world hunger, poverty, corruption and miseducation. Now, he could be sick of many things, couldn't he? The answer was sharp and straight-forward - he was sick of his salary. Period. Money can help you put up with most sorts of heavy loads, he thought. Money can buy you an amazing trip and an afternoon massage after one of those days wishing everyone bought a single ticket to hell. He was sick of his salary. The first friend, who was everything but a teacher, tried to cheer his mate up and said the check was on him that night.
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