This morning I took my car to the car wash–a long overdue task. And while I was sitting there with Luna reading my book and minding my own business, a man walked over.
He was somewhat handsome, though wearing dirty cutoff clothes, and started out with some easy questions, like what kind of dog is Luna and did I just get her groomed. We chatted for a moment, and then the big old sign on my forehead that says “PLEASE BE AS CRAZY AS POSSIBLE” appeared (as it always does).
First, he started to gain momentum on the topic of unemployment. You see, he’d had a hard, hard last few years. And once you’ve been out of work for a while, it gets harder. And, really, should it get harder? Shouldn’t he be able to land a job, any job?
Yes, I agreed. I’m not sure why you can’t land a job.
He kept going: saying that if you didn’t have a permanent address, no one would give you a job. He was sleeping at the homeless shelter, he said. So how is he supposed to get a job?
I suggested that he make a friend and give that friend’s address. Employers aren’t magic; they don’t know that you don’t own the house.
Then I politely asked what kind of job he’d like.
“Making babies,” he answered.
After a long pause, I offered, “oh.” And he went on to explain how he didn’t have any kids and would really like some.
I refrained from pointing out that having kids usually requires you to A. also have a lady-type who would like to sleep with you and B. also requires that you support said kids. Also, having kids usually doesn’t pay well. Just sayin’.
I will take this whole interaction as a sign that I’m having a good hair day.
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