If you meet a stranger, look at his shoes. Keep yer money in yer shoes.
Well, I’m done at the joint.
The old man who works there was the one who relieved me for the last time. I don’t think I ever got around to writing about him on here in any depth, so I’ll give you a little background, along with the observation that I like him, even though it’s going to sound like I don’t.
The Old Man has two principal distinctive features: he bought into a pyramid scheme and bugs everybody at the joint to buy in as well so he can get rich, and he is full of good advice (yes, I am aware that these two things seem contradictory). But he’s one of those people who gives unsolicited advice, constantly, in a manner that makes you want to ignore him. I don’t know whether the fault is with him or with me, but as soon as he suggests a course of action to me I want to do the opposite. Most of the advice he’s given me I’ve eventually ended up following, but I’ve made a point of not letting him see me follow it. I’m afraid that, if he knows I’m taking his advice, it will only encourage him to give me more of it.
So today the Old Man showed up for work, and I clocked out for the last time. He had a delivery as soon as he got there, and I was outside having a smoke when he left. He pulled up alongside me and pointed at Rosie’s WV license plate. “How long have you lived in Virginia?” he asked.
“Since January,” said I.
“You know you’ve only got thirty days after you move here to change your registration, right?”
“I know it. I can’t afford it right now.”
“Well, it’s just gonna mean more trouble for you later on, so you might as well take care of it now.”
This was so in-character for him that I laughed. He looked at me for a second, as if wondering what was so funny, but then he started laughing himself, and was still laughing as he drove away. I hope it was because he realized that, by giving that one last bit of unsolicited advice, he had given me the perfect last moment.