Another Week in the Can

"Another week in the can," Roc raised his Chianti to toast, with a lopsided smile peeking through the exhaustion.
"Now that's the most romantic toast ever," I raised my eyebrows but clinked glasses anyway. We were at a swanky restaurant nearby our home, one that had become a recent Friday night favorite.
"Do you realize that I am spending my entire salary here tonight?" He shook his head in disbelief. "I feel so bad for some of these kids...still living at home with their parents...barely making it...they can't wait to get out of the Academy so they can make some overtime."
When Roc entered the Academy, police officers in NYC were pulling down all of $25,000 per year. That meant that after taxes, he brought home about $300 per week. If we decided to have our Friday night date at this particular place...well, you get the idea. We were lucky. He had the business to fall back on, plus whatever money I made, but we were keenly aware at moments like these just how underpaid NYC Police Officers were at the time.