September 24, 2014
The Bargeman
I stopped by Target on the way to work this morning, to pick up some last-minute supplies for the retreat I’m on this weekend (we’re to wear, under our really sexy denim oxfords with the retreat logo stitched on the breast, a white t-shirt the first day, a blue t-shirt the second day, and a red t-shirt the third day. I had none. Well, at least none that are short sleeved and didn’t have Corvette graphics plastered all over.). After I checked out with my new t-shirts and a couple bottles of laundry detergent for delicates, I headed over to the Starbucks kiosk. I stood in line behind two Catholic school girls in plaid skirts and a little old man in a plaid button-down and jeans, catching up on emails and texts on my phone. The girls finished with their order and left, giggling. The man turned to me and said, “I bet you’re going to work after this.” I smiled, “I am!” He said, “I understand people who have to go to work. Why don’t you go first?” I tried to refuse, but he was having none of it. “I’m good,” he said. “I just float around.”
