A lady approached my checkout today with a large trolley with green bags hung over one of the loops on the baby seat. “Are you open?” she asked, innocently. “Well, that depends.” “What on?” “Well, if today is Monday and the time is between 7am and 11am, during which time I am required by penalty of death or loss of my dearly-beloved job to work, then the answer is yes. Also if the little red sign, similar to one of these,” I say, grabbing the close sign from under my register and holding it up, “is not placed at the end of my register then yes, I am open. Also, if I have a look on my face that closely resembles boredom the answer is still most probably yes.” “So are you open?”
It’s hard to soar like an eagle when you’re surrounded by turkeys.
Today was one of the very, very few days of the year that I actually get mail. It was a small package with a slight bulge in it, and I assumed either it was a nice lump of cash or something from my future employer.
I opened it and read the first page:
“Dear Ryan, This letter is to confirm our verbal offer of employment and acceptance to the position of Web Developer - for a six month contract.”
Awesome.