Thursday, February 1, 2007
I got here late this morning. Some mornings, it gets so early I can hardly remember that I went to bed. New gloves today, the kind that have fingers which come off. Easier to grab the papers.
I'm still getting a few stragglers. Mostly now, it is the clique-ish girls new to the workforce, still spending more on clothes and taxis than working hard, grabbing smokes and coffee on company time. They don't buy my papers though. They buy business magazines with artsy covers they never read, trying to look like they have. Guess that's the life of a salary girl.
Call me a cynic, but I think nice legs still get good jobs. Seems the experts think so too. Either way, the salary girls are turning heads while turning a paycheck. Looks like yesterday and today aren't so different. I guess this is what all the protests in the 1970s came up with - nothing.
What do you think of this 1955 Pinup?
Me? I get paid by the paper. Every paper adds a little bit of life to my life. My legs help me stand all day, yelling out to passersby to buy a paper. I'd sit, but I sell fewer papers when I do. More papers, more money.
I'm selling them online now too, though no one is buying. They read them online. I don't blame them. I read both papers each morning, and all day. I can't help it. For such a busy street, you'd think there would be more to do. Maybe if I had an inside job, I'd read them online too. I sometimes see a few articles here and there.
Never smoked. Sometimes, I think I'm the one in Chicago who doesn't. My corner is dotted with butts by this time every morning.
Coffee I'll drink though. Starbucks is fine. Any port in a storm, and Starbucks has ports all over the city. People think I'm hardwired, that a guy like me drinks it black. Not on your life. I need the sugar and milk, and lots of both.
Funny how serious people get about which coffee they drink. I'll bet they couldn't tell of they had a sample of each. As for funny, I saw this bumper sticker in a mom-n-pop shop.