Tzeporah 1

My barber Jose feels it necessary to listen to the rants of most of his customers. After all, he is a struggling small businessman. With me, that's reversed, I listen to his. Sometimes he's funny, the odd time I actually learn something; but the main purpose is simply so I don't have to talk about myself. I've found it best over time to operate on a zero disclosure basis, for reasons I won't bore you.
He gives a wicked smile as he tucks me into the cape, "I tell you the world is a totally unfair place."
"No fooling?" I say as a way of egging him on.
"You my friend constitute the height of injustice."
"Go on."
"You happen to be the only customer who both gets a seniors' discount and yet needs his hair thinned every single time."
We both laugh.
He continues, "yeah, and with that much younger looking face, bet you get swarms of women after you."
"Jose, I can assure you size is everything."
He gasps, then laughs.
"Sure is, and once they guess the size of my pension they are oh so gone."
We both laugh.
This sets him going on the theme of the unfairness of the whole man-woman thing; as if he could of course be impartial about it.
And then I'm out the door, once again glad that the person waiting behind me in line heard nothing useful.
Given my budget, I don't bother with a wireless hookup, just adjourn to the coffee house three or four times a week, use theirs.
I buy French Roast at the counter, choose a seat with my back to the wall. No, this ain't as in an old western movie, not afraid of being shot. And no I ain't looking at porn. It's just well, I happen to be looking at stuff which would raise eyebrows among any who vaguely know me.
She sits at the table next to me and instinct says trouble. With an overly casual tone, "could I ask you something?"
"I'm kind of busy here."
This doesn't deter her, "well you see, I'm taking this course on palm reading. I could give you a reading, for free of course, as a way of gaining experience."
"No thank you."
"Ah one of those who doesn't believe in all that hoohaw?"
Whether I believe in that hoohaw or not is immaterial. I avoid those New Agers like the bubonic plague. See lots tend to be fairly intuitive, get their messages from the Universe in more ways than just the one they parade around. And as I said before, I prefer privacy.
I turn to face her, "what part of No don't you understand?"
And there was my mistake, a full frontal view. I see her eyes go wide, she gasps, almost inaudibly. I see the recognition in her eyes, but not full 100%.
At this, she picks up her (cardboard) coffee cup and proceeds to leave.
I shrug, decide the best course of action is simply avoid this particular coffee house for a while and go to the others I haunt.
And then I dismiss it, it is a biggish city, and back to my surfing.
Returning home to the seniors' apartment building, I am accosted by that loudmouth Mrs Thatcher. Used to be a teacher in a small town, still in that power groove, loves to push everyone around. She explains that the biannual homeless count is coming up. As a matter of prestige our building must again beat all others in percentage turnout. (Where do they get that competitive thing from?) By now I know what's coming. She expects everyone mobile, that is not in a wheelchair or walker to show. Failure to do so will invite harrassment. It would be the height of pointless to protest I don't have a car. Maybe a third of people here do and she'd just find a ride for me with someone else. Given that something like this only happens two or three times a year, I find the best course of action is simply surrender, part of the price of living in a seniors' building.
The briefing is a huge crowd, in the theatre of the public library. They have pizza and coffee first, then everyone goes inside the theatre as various speakers address the crowd.
My assignment is a two hour shift, 2 to 4 pm on that particular day, at a drop in centre for indigent seniors. I will be partnered with a "T Auerbach", seems harmless enough.
I arrive about five minutes early, to take over from the previous shift. Their view is I probably won't have much business. It's later in the day, most have been counted. The lunch crowd is gone, most everyone here is the all day hang around sort.
They leave and two minutes later, guess who arrives. The woman from the coffee house. I groan inwardly, this is gonna be a long afternoon.
Fortunately, we don't have to talk. That is, we're right at the front door, on chairs and the crowd of smokers is endlessly going outside and coming back in.