Possumblog

Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.


Tuesday, November 23, 2004

Shoes, Sidewalks, Etc.

Got back just a bit ago after taking the short hike down 20th to go see the shoe doctors. It’s still sort of cloudy today, but not rainy, and definitely not cold. I had a light windbreaker with me but didn’t need it because the temperature felt almost like summer. And I already break enough wind as it is.

Be that as it may, it was a nice walk--the recent deluge had the wonderful effect of making everything nice and clean-smelling downtown, which is a welcome relief from the usual aroma of concentrated bumpee and garbage. If it ever rains just a little bit, it’s even worse smelling, but a good old three day downpour tends to dilute everything or wash it down the storm sewers. Well, at least the ones that aren’t stopped up.

Speaking of bums, sure does seem like they are on the increase. A few years back we went through a phase of Noo Yawk-inspired zero tolerance directed toward aggressive beggars and folks who set up light housekeeping on the public way. It worked for a while, but only for a little while. They’re back now. It’s probably a bit worse when you go perambulating after the traditional noon-to-one lunchtime, or maybe I just notice it more. Most of the guys are harmless and don’t try to make trouble, and if it’s a guy I know, I will occasionally give him some change.

But, there’s always a few who give bums a bad name.

Yes, I’m talking about you two guys--sitting there enjoying your lunchtime smokes on the bench beside the school board building, shooting the breeze, looking remarkably well-fed and rested.

“Hey. You got any spare change I can have?!”

Over the years, you build up a large repertoire of snappy repartee that you have better sense than to ever express out loud. Rather than go off on a full stand-up routine, you know it’s best just to nod your head 'no' and keep walking. Especially if you're carrying a pair of ladies shoes. So, I just nodded no and kept walking.

“Yeah, well, it FIGURES you wouldn’t!”

Hmm. Well, I think we can see why you don’t have a job in marketing.

See, when you’re asking someone for money, and you’re not offering anything in return, it’s probably a good idea to just accept the fact that some folks aren’t that high on cold-calls, and are going to turn you down. Nothing personal, happens to the best of us. Just understand that some folks require that you build a business relationship of some sort, before coming out and demanding things, regardless of how inconsequential they might seem to be to you.

It’s probably best not to burn any bridges with potential clients, then, and not vilify a perfect stranger for scorning your less-than-tempting offering. Maybe it would be a better strategy to just be satisfied to go back to smoking your smoke and chatting with your friend, Mr. “I’m Too Friggin’ Shiftless to Hold Down a Job That Requires Me to Be Sober for More Than Three Minutes or Requires That I Should Not Try to Knife Someone if They Cross Me, Yet I Danged Well Feel That Society Should Accept Me As the Sorry Excuse That I Am and Give Me Whatever I Want When I Want It, As Well as Feel Collective Shame for the Squalid Condition in Which I Find Myself.” Here’s a tip--I hear Terry McAuliffe’s job might be coming open--sounds more suited to your talents.

Anyway, with my mood now sufficiently soured, I walked on down the street, past the vacant building where McDonald’s and the flower shop used to be, past the vacant building where the post office used to be, and turned the corner opposite of the vacant building where the CVS pharmacy used to be and headed up 3rd Avenue to the comforting leather-and-polish smell of the shoe place. I used to use Bon Ton Hatters, but it seems almost like a hobby for the handlebar-mustachioed guy who runs the place rather than a real job. Half sole replacement time seemed to be measured in units similar to the half-life of uranium. The Goodyear place is startlingly fast--“Do you want these back this afternoon?” It was going to be at the close of business, so I told her I would just get them tomorrow. She even spelled my name right, without my having to repeat it.

Back out, back down 3rd, back up 20th, stopped and got some lunch from Milo’s, and here I am again.


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