I was on my way to the kitchen at the office today to get my water bottle and I saw a middle aged woman in a dour green winter coat coming  through the front door.  She looked rather haggard, with long untreated dirty blond hair and a pained face. 

We don’t have a receptionist at that door.  It usually isn’t a problem as it is a high (internal) traffic corridor at the meeting of two hallways that contain all of the offices of the executives and also right beside our conference room.  Nobody else was around though so I started to walk toward her.  She was holding a card and read it for a moment.  This is common for a delivery person or utility service person, which we see here a lot.  Since I was already walking that way I appointed myself as the greeter and guide…which usually consists of “oh, Bill is the fourth door on the right down that hallway.”

Not today.

When I walked up she thrust the card in her hands at me:

What would you do?  I felt many emotions at once.  Obviously SAYING “oh, I have no change/bills/etc.” won’t work with someone deaf… In the split second that I had in which to decide what to do I opened up my wallet and saw a $1 bill and a $20 bill.  You can guess which one I offered up. 

She said “anch ooo” and bolted back out the door, with me standing there somewhat astonished and frustrated…”tag, you’re it!”  After she turned the corner I saw her handler across the street having a smoke beside his SUV.  Quite a racket he’s got going.  The pack of smokes probably costs more money than what she’ll get shaming people into throwing dollar bills at her, but what do I know?

Yes, that is a Heinz Ketchup factory.  Yes, I live in Los Angeles.  No, not Los Angeles the city, Los Angeles the county.  Yes, I moved 3,000 miles to end up in another industrial blue collar nightmare.  For five years now.  At least this wasteland smells like ketchup and not sulfur.  (Yes, that is what I’ve consoled myself with for five years)