I actually have feelings in my cold, cold heart. Some of them good feelings towards these people that come and talk to me all the time. For instance, one of my regulars is a black man that used to be a diesel mechanic. He is the friendliest nicest man. He only has three fingers due to an accident in said profession. He will have constant pain in his hand for the rest of his life. And still he has the capacity to be really kind. He will talk to me about whatever. I will actually miss him. One of my other regulars that I will miss is a substance abuse councilor. He likes to come in and encourage me about my future, and tell me everything will be alright.
Friday, first customer of the day, a grown man, crying. Sobbing, is the more accurate word. He needed twenty dollars to get his woman out of jail. They had a fight because he didn't wake up before noon and she hit him. There was a pretty good scratch on his face. He also had what I refer to as the "bum tan" (incase you aren't hip to it, it is a tan-like coloration, but it could be from the sun, it could be from dirt). At 10 o'clock in the morning he did smell a little like alcohol, though he didn't necessarily seem drunk. Maybe he was just sweating it out. He had crystal clear blue eyes that are a tad unnerving with his dark skin and hair. Also a tad unnerving when they are red and swollen from the sobbing. Some people may not think that would keep you at your job,but that encounter was the most genuine thing I had experienced in a long time. I'm not sure he was telling me the truth. I have no idea if he was acting, but even acting can be genuine. It was a good performance. He found something in himself that made him cry. It was a strange experience.
I met a woman yesterday who used to own a thrift store in New York. Then she went to graduate school, got her masters in linguistics and got her dream job- working with refugees. Then she got laid off. She told me some short little stories about these people's lives in Africa and how grateful they were to be here and not get raped on the way to school. She told me how hard she finds life and how jobs wear you down. How she wishes she had the money back from college and she should have used it to buy a house and get a job at Home Depot so she had health insurance. It is nice to have someone tell you all the things you think everyday. It made my day. Then I promptly made her's by discounting the hell out of her guitar. It was a nice exchange and she left really happy.
There are really good things about my job or I would have quit a long time ago.
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