A slow afternoon was a good chance to learn about a customer who’s been coming in for a while –his stand on street cars, billionaires, and aid to devloping nations.
Customer said that the local affordable housing authority was a non-profit organization, but the people they hired to maintain the properties were for-profit, and that’s where you’d started to see these problems cropping in.
Customer came in like a mad dog, still furious about this one bus driver.
What was looking good at the farmer’s market, customer? Apples were starting, Peaches were done — this was the last of them.
How was the attendant this morning, asked customer? Perplexed. Perplexed? How Perplexed? Every evening, almost at the close of my shift, there is a certain object which I hold for not more than five seconds –that is actually generous; it is more like two seconds; it is like moving this cup from here to here. And I’ve done that for years and years without a problem, taking it out of this one place and putting it into this other place beside it. (I’ve made other mistakes, of course, of lot of others, but never have I had a problem with this). But the person opening the store this morning told me he couldn’t find it –that it was gone– and he’s looked and I’ve looked and it’s nowhere. And I don’t even hold it for long enough to put it somewhere, I don’t hold it long enough to lose it. Supposing for instance I pulled it out of the one place and suddenly somebody called me before I had put in the place it needs to go, I wouldn’t lay it on a table or stick it in my pocket, I would put in the place where it needs to go, which would be the easiest most natural place to put it, before addressing the source of the distraction. It’s quite unbelievable really.
.i`` * ^ / . . . . . ` `~ 