Boy, I feel You

The heat has such a nasty effect on my brain that sometimes I get stuck in survival mode. People who have followed my blog know full well how much more I prefer the winter to the summer. The reason I mention it again is because yesterday was one of the times when the post found me and I couldn’t even bring myself to update the blog because the air conditioning at the library was woefully inadequate.

At the end of Essex Street are three of the most well known shops in Salem. In front of Remember Salem is where one of the many tour guides is stationed throughout the warm months as tourists begin to stream into the town. Strategically, he has the best spot in town as the tour buses usually park right around the corner, across the street from the Hawthorne. Oh, he’s also in spitting distance of the Hawthorne, from whence the other tourists are bound to¬†emerge.

It was late in the afternoon and I happened to over hear the poor tour guide being hassled by a “friend”.

“Hey, let me tell you a quick joke,” the bike bound and largely toothless individual said. (Yeah, I was just nosy enough to notice the detail. I’d say “bite me” but he can’t.)

“I don’t know, man,” the tour guide said, trying to be polite. “I’m supposed to be attracting tourists right now.”

“But there’s no tourist now,” came the reply of the biker who found the hint too hard to chew with just his gums. “So, there’s three Irish men…”

I didn’t listen to the rest, because if I had stopped there long enough to listen, it would be obvious that I was eavesdropping. But it made me think of the people who kept approaching me while I was a bell ringer and expecting me to just shoot the breeze, taking umbrage when I told them that I wasn’t there to socialize.

It’s a simple rule people. Just because I’m not sitting behind a cash register or doing what you consider to be a “Real Job”, doesn’t mean I’m not working. The same goes for a guy whose entire business requires him to be outside and in constant view of the public.

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