The cleaners come every two weeks. I make it my policy to get out of their way. So, generally I find myself at the Wellesley Free Library periodical room, which is a great inexpensive way to catch up on the latest issue of HBR, Business Week, Computerworld and other items of interest.
I have noticed that there are very few Victoria Secrets models in the periodical room. In fact, I rarely find any attractive females. Moreover the median age of people in the periodical room is about 55, so the guys are not that attractive either.
Not that I have time for such friviolities as ranking the attractivness of my fellow library patrons. I am busy with my research.
One of the mysteries that has always puzzled me is why I am not rich. Every time I pick up a newspaper or magazine, everytime I watch TV, even just sitting in a coffee shop watching the cars go by, I see people who are rich. These people do not typically seem to be smarter, better looking or talented than I , yet they are driving nice Mercedes autos, showing off the new pool, or wearing outfits that probably cost more than I spend on beer in a year.
I suppose I could be wealthier if I had a job. But, strangely I seem not to be in the cohort that appears on the most-wanted-list of potential employers. If I were a hiring manager, I would be looking for people like me: mature, well fed, good sense of humor, willing to show up most of the time, expert in my field - that sort of thing. Ok, some of my former bosses have deemed me an "insubordinate bleeptard", but I call them "micromanaging nitpickers" so, I guess we are even on that score. Anyway, it still seems funny that so many Captains of Industry have opted to set sail without someone like me aboard as moral compass, First Mate, or even as deckhand. Hey, is that an Iceberg ahead? Ha ha I'm just keeding.
I learned something important today. I decided to grab a bagel and coffee. I parked at a meter and put a quarter in for 60 minutes. I had another quarter, but how long would it take to eat a bagel and drink a medium coffee? One quarter would do it. Then I decided that since I had 60 minutes on the meter, I would bring a book to read. Long story short: I got back to the car 63 minutes later. The meter vulture must have been waiting for it to get to zero. I have a $10 parking ticket. Now, I am decidedly less rich that I was when I started, all because of some over eager Meter Maid, probably fat and ugly too. So the lesson is: Some jobs shouldn't be done so efficiently.
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