Don’t worry though – things are steaming along.
Let’s see, we can all put our collective thoughts together as my FAOA goes for her final treatment today. We hope she will weather it a little more easily than the last one and we can celebrate that it IS her last one.
I’m busy at work right now. I don’t think I’ve mentioned it but my boss is only in the office three days a week this fall and this has made things a little hectic. Someone told me today that I have two jobs – one to manage his life and the other to interact with everyone here. It’s difficult to explain but very true.
Anyway – I hadn’t meant to talk about my job – I meant to talk about:
Jobs I Could Do
(sometimes, whilst commuting, I ponder other employment)
Subway Motorman – I could do this. They are responsible for opening and closing the doors of the train. The problem for me would be my inability to, ruthlessly, close the doors when I could SEE people rushing through the turnstiles.
Café Counterperson – definitely. I could remember the orders of the regulars easily. Tough on the feet though.
Conductor – as in: the person who takes the tickets on the commuter rail line. K says I couldn’t do it. Too many hours on my feet. But I would like it! I would make the announcements (Please take your newspapers with you when you leave the train!) and have a special way of saying: ALL TICKETS PLEASE as I entered each car.
This last job –WHICH I TOTALLY COULD DO – reminds me: across the aisle from us this morning, a woman was cracking up, quietly and politely, over something she was listening to on her iPod. It was a lovely thing to watch. And then, I took the subway downtown instead of walking. I’ve been walking for months but needed to run an errand past my office. So there I was with all the parents and kids going to school. I had forgotten about that crowd – I like them. There was a group of teenage girls standing near me sassing each other. It was adorable to watch while they teased and made fun – all good spirited and only amongst themselves. I caught myself smiling and then noticed the grown-up lady standing next to me was smiling too. We had a little moment where we both remembered and understood how wonderful it is to be a 15 year old girl on your way to school with your friends.
When I got out of the station everywhere I went there were tiny boys and their dads. Buying bagels, walking to school, running across the street – having breakfast. Everywhere I went. I have forgotten how tiny boys can be – how small my boys were. By the time I got to my café, my favorite tiny boy and his mother were making their way up the street. The café owner (a beautiful French woman I’ve mentioned) was sitting having coffee at the window and I pointed him out. He walks with his mom everyday. He is adorable and jabbers the whole way up the block. She holds his hand and walks slowly in her high heels while he stops to look at things or play with his umbrella or stomp in puddles. I can see how patient she is. Today he was pulling a suitcase and seemed a little proud. The French lady and I marveled at how quickly the time passes. She has met Youngest and has a knack for remembering her customers.
I would do that too. Add café owner to my list.