TOO HOT AND WET

During the night I realized that I'm old. Years ago I looked at people rather differently, often as features on the social landscape, and unless I could speak to them not very interesting, not particularly human. The ones who stood out were people with whom I could talk. Most others were just there. Visual, ambulatory, sound producing. Dimensionalities.
Kind of like planking or ceramic tiles in the middle distance.

They stood out by wit, and being perspicacious.
Nowadays it's by being kind individuals.
Unbumpy in their interactions.


This came to the fore at a chachanteng a few weeks ago, when I observed the waitress there coping with the crowd while they were severely understaffed. Frantic, efficient, spinning at ninety miles an hour and getting everything done never-the-less. I don't thing the customers even noticed, but having been there when there were three people working the front instead of just one, and having for many years worked part-time at a busy restaurant myself, I could see what was happening. Her timing was sharp, precise, well done.
Naturally I tipped well. I hope the other did too.

Altogether I may have spoken less than a hundred words to her over that and previous visits. What I wanted, did they have hot sauce, and a request for the check.
Plus hi, one person, please thank you, goodbye.

It's much like the women behind the counter at my usual grocery store in Chinatown. Hello, this, two, that big jar, thank you, and see you next time. One of them always looked a little worried, but that may be merely how her face twists. Her boss always looks quite pleasant, engaged but not relaxed. Same. I don't think I've mentioned pipes, philosophy, sixteenth century literature, or even the weather at either place, or at any of the other places.
Well, the weather, perhaps. When it's too hot or wet.

The other day I screwed up the courage to speak to an elderly lady on the bus, who is frequently down at the stop at a certain time early in the morning when I'm rushing to catch transport to Marin. I've seen her and an old gentleman there countless times, they live in the neighborhood. My Cantonese is not perfect, and I often feel hesitant to use it when it's not called for. It went off without a hitch. So I'll probably move to saying good morning to both people on work days. While still mentally counting features of the lanscape at that hour.

Familiar faces, robot taxis, dogs, tykes,street people, emergency vehicles.
Plus yoga women, and people wearing scrubs.


I have good thoughts about the latter category, largely because all of my interactions with such people have been rewarding. Positive, in any case.



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