I must say I run into the most interesting people during my morning and (to a lesser extent) evening commutes. And leftover food, for that matter. Invariably one of the following will befall me on the way to or from work.
I will sit on the bench waiting for the bus and immediately a) will notice the half-eaten burrito still in its styrofoam take-out contaner, complete with a scoop of rice in the appropriate partition or b) will have to walk over or around a chicken bone, as if I just walked into some sort of frenzied wing-eating contest with leftovers being flung around like water cups at the New York City Marathon
I will be asked for directions. Usually the people asking them are not even close to where they want to be, and it takes a while to orient them. Believe it or not, a woman once asked me for directions and then began to argue with me that I was wrong in pointing her where she wanted to go. I think she was from Kentucky.
I will be asked for money. I've seen all the tricks in the book, from the "hey man can you spare 20 cents for a sandwich" to the much more engaging, but still annoying, "Can I ask you a question?" My favorite are the elaborate stories that involve an ex-wife, a car that just ran out of gas on the way to deliver a check to said ex-wife, and some sort of war-related injury. Typically I'll politely say "no, thank you" (to which I once received a reply of "Wait....I'm asking --you-- for money". In more extreme cases I'll have to resort to a "fuck off", but usually after getting yelled at for not forking over a buck or two. Every now and again, I'll have to give the person a tip on how to ask for money (be direct and somewhat humble; don't tell your life story when all you need is a dollar to get on the train, and, as in Glenngary Glenn Ross, always be closing). This advice is gold in my opinion. I still don't give them anything. I believe I pay taxes to cover that sort of thing.
Friday, August 22, 2008
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