OK, so I am a firm believer that good deeds get rewarded. Maybe not right away, but somewhere down the line, it gets back to you, or as an intelligent co-worker who only occasionally says the silliest things once said, "it gets paid in reverse, you know, the opposite of paid forward?" Some may pronounce that "paid back," but I digress.
I pulled into work and emerged from my jeep, locking the doors and heading towards the building. A derelict looking dude walking in the opposite direction says "hey," to me, so I look over.
"You got a quarter?" he asked.
Now, I've heard this scam a thousand times if I've heard it once. 'I'm short on gas, and I don't get paid until tomorrow,' they say, or 'I haven't eaten in two days,' or 'I'm trying to get home to see my kid.' This guy was likely just seeing if he could get lucky by hitting random saps with a simple question.
I turned and went back to my jeep. Sensing my intentions, the man shifted gears. "I'm just trying to get seventy five cents, I've been up and down this street all morning, I just need a break." I reached into the large travel mug I keep in the cup holder and grabbed for whatever change my hand found. I came out with $1.25 in quarters and a few pennies. I'm not gonna miss it. If it makes someone else's day, might as well, right?
"Here you go," I say, handing him all the change. The pleasant surprise on his face was classic.
"Thanks," he said smiling.
"Have a good day," I say, locking my jeep again.
"You have a better one," he countered.
"Thanks," I answer, turning to walk back to the bank.
"Hey, are you married?" he asks.
"Nope," I reply.
His face loses some of it's glee. Clearly he was hoping for a yes. "Got a girlfriend?"
"Nope," I reply.
Again, you could see this man was confounded a bit. "Well," he finally said after a second or two of contemplation, "I hope you meet one tonight that blows the shit out of you."
So I got THAT going for me. The homeless grifter of Blue Point is praying for my (oral) sex life. What else could a man need to succeed in the world?
I went to school for Fine Arts. I'm an accomplished sketch artist, painter, photographer, writer, and designer. I'm gruff, rough, and kinda tough. So how the HELL did I end up working at Fiscal United Bank? The following stories are all true accounts of the day to day insanity that I have encountered as a representative of Fiscal United Bank. Only the names and minor details have been changed to protect... well, to protect me from litigation, frankly.
