Might be a True Story

Was talking with the Uber driver.  What is it you do?  Well, I type on the keyboard.  That's it?  I also close tickets.  They pay you for that?  Yeah.  Could I learn it?  Sure.  Would you teach me?  Well, I taught a course, but you may want to sign up for some free MOOC courses, I looked up a few on the cell phone, wrote them on a scratch paper for the driver.

You know you've been traveling a lot when the bank fraud department flags your transaction as unusual activity when you're back home.  This was a short week, flew up Monday direct flight, flew home late Thursday, arrive home midnight.  Oh two dozen tasks that need to be handled at home.  What a relief, home again.

Weather change.  Sure is hot in Florida.  Sure is not hot up north.  40's.  Brrr.  Food's good though.  People walk a lot up north.  In a hurry I guess.  They'll walk super fast right at you, if you don't get out of their way, run you over.  Or they'll stop directly in front, turn around, human road block.  They don't really acknowledge others when walking, everyone's busy looking at phone or heads down.  I never realized how much people stare, like lasers scanning your soul, eerie.  You nose itches, you look around, someone staring.  When did that become socially acceptable.  Hey, if you're going to stare, maybe pay me like $1 a minute or something.  We can schedule daily meeting, you can stare, just so long as we agree to the terms, otherwise, stare at someone else.  You cooperation is appreciated, weirdos.

How can we make your life more difficult.  With a smile.  That seems to be the new mantra.  I didn't get the email.  When did society become so "all for me, none for you".  There's quite a few homeless where I've been staying.  These people battle the cold, the environment.  When I first got there, I gave my some money, then a few more, then a few more, Enough, I'm out.  It never ends.  Some appear to be legitimately down on their luck.  Others look like professionals, loud, boisterous, can you spare some change, hey why are you clean shaven with nice clothes.  Rows of people lined up, not 100% sure their circumstances are the same as others sleeping in doorways with mountains of random belongings in bags, covered in their specimens.  When I check out of living space, walking with my luggage, I wonder if some people think I'm homeless.  I'm heading to work.  To type on the keyboard.  Maybe close out a few tickets.  And take Uber back to the airport.  So I can get flagged fraud charges on my purchases from home.  It's a strange story, but I think its true.  Who knows.

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