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Economic Update. A new restaurant has opened nearby. I’m still out of work.

After four interviews over the last six weeks, I’m waiting to hear from Established Traditional Co., Inc. (ESTTRADCO), whose hiring manager has been on vacation but is now back. I would very much like to join ESTTRADCO, but each passing hour fills me with a sense of foreboding and doom. Each interview and presentation went very well. The security guard made small talk with me and told me he was certain that all of these visits were a very good sign. He looked forward to his vacation and thought my suit was very nice. Foreboding. Doom. And you, dear reader, expecting scinitalling photos of decaying economy get this depressing prognostication. Foredooming.

So two things happened yesterday that fuel my belief that civilization as we know it will end very soon. First, I’m standing at the bus stop. The bus pulls up right where I stand. The doors open. A girl, late teens, cuts directly in front of me and walks on as the doors open. Stock up on water, people; the end is near. I stare at the back of her head. The bus driver shakes his head to acknowledge the collapse of society sure to follow.

Second, I walk through a door at one of the seventeen banks within a two block radius. As my curmudgeonly father taught me to do, I hold the door for the person behind me. She’s on her cell phone because it’s very important that she have whatever conversation she’s having. It can’t wait. She does not reach out to take the door from me. She does not put up her arm. She walks through the open door very slowly while I hold it, not looking up. I think perhaps the electromagnetic waves emitted by her phone have rendered her arms useless – she’s holding the phone with hunched shoulder. Perhaps she thinks it is an automatic door. Perhaps she knows I will not let the door whack her. All you hunched shoulder phone talker non-door takers, you are on notice. If you’re behind me going through a door, you’d better take the door or it’s going to slam into you. My mother, rest her soul, would cringe. Then she’d fix us both a scotch on the rocks and we’d sit on the deck and watch the golfers hacking away on the 11th hole.

Finally, I caddied for a couple of weeks when I was in high school and I found out something. Everyone cheats. Even the kindly family doctor. To recap: new restaurant, me out of work, civilization is doomed any day now. No photos today.

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June 2019
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