Monday, November 25, 2019

UBER. BOOMER.

Signs of life outside the building this A.M.: Seagulls overhead (diamond formation). Crows cawing. Alcoholic shrine under the tree at the bus stop.
A jogger. An Asian girl with very long hair crossing the street. Sleeping streetperson across the intersection, with a box fortress.
Uber driver in car.

Uber driver looking at me expectantly, as if asking: "are you the fare for which I wait?"

Dude, does a rumpled middle-aged man with a cigarillo, in a bathrobe and slippers, look like he's going anywhere soon? "Hello, office, this is your chief-executive speaking. I seem to have forgotten to dress this morning. Is there any coffee in the company kitchen, and can I borrow someone's healthclub card so I can take a shower?"

It's precisely that thought that tells me that I am chief executive material, interested readers please contact me.

I'll be a very twenty-first century boss.

There will be yoga breaks.

Mandatory.


The street outside is a mess. Pizza crusts. Torn papers. There are abandoned undies near the front door. In my day, undies were not so casually discarded. No. If we had undies, we treasured them!
Your parents slaved for years to afford casual undies!


Maybe the Uber driver wants them.



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