When I worked in an office, the commute absolutely killed me. (Let me clarify that my last full-time job was a whopping nine blocks from my apartment.) There was just something so robotic and depressing about riding the elevator with the same sad drones every day. Getting watery coffee from the same cranky deli guy. Seeing the same tired souls dragging their asses to those lonely gray cubicles. Heavy sigh.
Now that I’m a “homey,” I come and go as I please, and I love it. While the rest of you are counting the minutes to your next Starbucks run and fantasizing about what to order from Chipotle for lunch, I get to see who is roaming the city in the light of day. I am always discovering new and interesting people, and let me tell you this–the freaks come out at noon.
One of my friends describes my neighborhood as the “Valley of Sorrows.” My building is surrounded by a methadone clinic, a police station, an art school, and a veteran’s hospital. It’s like a melting pot of pure people-watching madness. I couldn’t ask for more.
There is a sharply dressed homeless man who collects only Asahi beer cans, which i totally respect from a design perspective (I tried to get a pic, but he threatened to kiss me). Then there is the lovely elderly woman I often see at the grocery store. She has a perfect circle of rouge on each cheek. I recently spotted her in the produce aisle licking grapes and putting them back in their bag on the shelf. (Seriously, people, if you don’t already, please wash your fruit.) And my favorite, the guy who sells American flag pins outside the veteran’s hospital. He insists my dog is the very same canine from The Jerk, that 1979 Steve Martin movie. He yells “Hey Sh-thead!” every time we walk by. I would correct him, but I’m not sure he’s aware what year we are living in, so I just let him enjoy his celebrity pet sighting.
Sure, a job in an office would probably make my life much easier. Maybe I wouldn’t panic every time I open the mailbox and see bills I have no way of paying. But I wouldn’t trade this (un)office life for all the casual Fridays in the world. So let’s hear it for the Valley of Sorrows! Best place I’ve ever worked.
[Photo: Kathleen Conklin/flickr]
