Looking at the thing in my hands, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve made some terrible mistake.
Not like a ‘paid for my ticket on the day, so I paid more’ mistake – but something much deeper… I feel like I’ve made a deal for my soul, a piece of who I am belongs to… something else.
Never tried Pithos before, and wouldn’t have if Janine hadn’t told me over drinks about how it got her out of a tight corner with a medical bill.
Should’ve known when her posts started to include sponsored content… well by then she’d already got me to sign-up.
I printed it with the machine on our floor, another thing reared up in the back of my head when it said the Pithos was free. The printers always charge you, even if you’re printing emergency aid kits…
So, I got the flat shape back to my room and hit the BS logo triangle on the label like it said to. The tinny voices on these things are supposed to be calm and professional I guess, but I always get the creeps.
The little device scanned me and asked a bunch of questions, about my work, school, family… even what I’d do with a million pounds.
Just when I was getting bored and annoyed it suddenly popped up like one of those collapsing hire cars they keep in racks at the foot of our building.
The box then gives me a list of three options for what I can trade, based on ‘market value’ –
Christmas Day, aged 6, the last time our whole family was together before Grandma died.
Five years ago, when I woke up next to Steve and he made me breakfast while we watched cartoons (that was a nice change from most guys).
My mum singing an old India Irie song to me when I’d had that dream again.
I know what it was because I have the receipt saved, but… it’s like I get blurry snapshots of what might’ve happened to someone else. It kept me in food and rent while I looked for another gig, though I’ve talked to people since who needed money too and took extra shifts or did some entertaining in the plaza.
Now I don’t know which would be worse – this or remembering having danced for rich pigs, in some building they’d never let me into unless I was wearing that ‘uniform’ some of the girls had (you have to pay for it too, they take it out of your first payment).
All I’ll say is please think carefully before you put a part of yourself up for trading.
The opinions expressed herein do not represent the values of Pithos PLC or Brownstone trading.
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