as i exit the green line at clinton street, a docile hobo is trying to talk his way through the turnstyles. "so they said i should just go," he reasons out loud, "just board anyway, no pass, just quit talkin and do it." the girl in the CTA tollbooth grunts "Nope," never looking up from the Sun-Times horoscopes.
"Just get going, already. Just get on that train, if that's what I had to do," he suggests hopefully. She grunts. "Won't you...you won't open it?"
He started to lose his resolve. "I'm sure that...they said that I should do it!"
She folds the page.
i make my way to the CTA offices half a block west. I need to replace my stupid bus pass.
It's one of those cards that refills from a bank account, and I've had it forever, but one day last week I noticed the laminated plastic coating was starting to curl up at the corners. So I peeled it all off. It was a fun way to kill some time.
A few days later, the damn card snapped in half for no apparent reason.
Turns out the lamination was there to protect it, the poor little thing.
You see, every morning of the week, I pull the pass out of a billfold and wave it at a scanner.
Who would expect a thick plastic card to survive such brutal treatment?
They don't make plastic the way they used to.
Not that I know how plastic is or ever was made.
Meanwhile, at work, I'm required to wear a dark blue company issued short sleeve shirt.
I work four days a week. I have four of these shirts.
When hired, I requested these be size medium.
My boss chuckled and said "How about large?"
What was wrong with medium? I always wear medium. I'm short and I have slender shoulders.
Boss man seemed to think he knew my size better than I did. Ten minutes after we first were introduced.
Rather than quit, I accepted my fate.
Thus I endure daily these dark blue button down ponchos. Untucked, they descend to my knees.
So much more shirt than I will ever need.
And so much less carded plastic.
Anyone else out there in the opposite predaciment?
Drop me a line.
"Just get going, already. Just get on that train, if that's what I had to do," he suggests hopefully. She grunts. "Won't you...you won't open it?"
He started to lose his resolve. "I'm sure that...they said that I should do it!"
She folds the page.
i make my way to the CTA offices half a block west. I need to replace my stupid bus pass.
It's one of those cards that refills from a bank account, and I've had it forever, but one day last week I noticed the laminated plastic coating was starting to curl up at the corners. So I peeled it all off. It was a fun way to kill some time.
A few days later, the damn card snapped in half for no apparent reason.
Turns out the lamination was there to protect it, the poor little thing.
You see, every morning of the week, I pull the pass out of a billfold and wave it at a scanner.
Who would expect a thick plastic card to survive such brutal treatment?
They don't make plastic the way they used to.
Not that I know how plastic is or ever was made.
Meanwhile, at work, I'm required to wear a dark blue company issued short sleeve shirt.
I work four days a week. I have four of these shirts.
When hired, I requested these be size medium.
My boss chuckled and said "How about large?"
What was wrong with medium? I always wear medium. I'm short and I have slender shoulders.
Boss man seemed to think he knew my size better than I did. Ten minutes after we first were introduced.
Rather than quit, I accepted my fate.
Thus I endure daily these dark blue button down ponchos. Untucked, they descend to my knees.
So much more shirt than I will ever need.
And so much less carded plastic.
Anyone else out there in the opposite predaciment?
Drop me a line.
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on Tuesday, September 26, 2006 at 11:07 PM.
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