@postaday 262; #postaday2011.
Checking to see if a man is alive or needs help is not the same as trying to make a mother feel inadequate. Let’s get that out of the way first.
I work for a health plan. People being healthy and vibrant is our goal. Our offices are in, shall we say, a sort of free-trade zone. And bars are opened really late. When I get to work in the morning, I often encounter, ahem, people, who are wrapping up their shifts. Uniforms seem to mostly include foundation garments in animal prints. You know where I’m going with this.
As I’m walking toward The Mothership from my lucky free parking on Piikoi Street, I see a person on the sidewalk. I cannot tell if it’s a woman or a man, but I soon found out without poking them with a stick or a bayonet. I asked him three times if he were OK and he finally answered me, “YES! GO THE F~@! AWAY!” Looked like an old guy from the ‘hood in white boxers, bedroom slippers and a T-shirt.
Dude. Those were EGGZACTLY the words I wanted to hear. You want me to go away, I’m going! Did I want this to be a dead body? Hellz NO! Did I want you to get up and ask me to take you somewhere? Did I want you to ask me for money or to use my phone or for my lunch or coffee? No. No. No. No. No.
I get into Starbucks Keeaumoku, where they blew my bagel order with finesse, BTW, and got to meet a new colleague who asked me if that guy was OK. I told her he was fine. Just one of the many colorful characters here in the Zombie Zone. If we walk among them, are we zombies, too?
It’s getting to that time of year, folks: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hG6oy46qKE4 Scary sheeeit going on out there!
Another BTW: @Starbucks promptly responded to my bagel woes on Twitter. That’s what I’m talking about! ENGAGE!