A couple days ago, I got a sandwich at Subway for lunch. Walking back to the office, a homeless guy asked, "Hey! I'm really hungry. Could I have your sandwich?"
"Sorry, no." I kept walking, although I thought I probably should've bought the "$5 footlong" and given the other half to someone who needed it. I'm just about to file this thought away for next time, when he says, "Could I have your number then?"
And then, today, just now, after 11:00 p.m. My cell phone rings. Takes a minute for me to gently remove the sleeping cat from my lap. I pick up the phone, say, "Hello," and hear:
"Can I talk to ... wait a second, I dropped my files. OK, can I talk to [insert name of some dude I don't know]?"
"No. Sorry, you have the wrong number."
"Are you sure? This is his parole agent."
I laugh. "Yes. I'm really sure. You have the wrong number."
And then he says, "You sound kind of lonely..."
1 comment:
I think that should be your new tagline - "I'm a fallback position to a sandwich."
Social retards - they're not just for geeks anymore.
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