August 3rd, 2007
June 12th, 2007
Last week a group of us traveled to a nearby town to hear a music group from my alma mater. While there, I ran into a fellow I’d met once before a few years back, Mr. Wright. While I was talking to him, I remembered that when I’d met him before, he had carried a business card-sized handout that he would bestow on particular occasions – if, for instance, you were complaining or griping or otherwise talking about the “horrible day you had.” He would reach into his wallet, pull one of these out, and hand it to you:
I wonder, how old do I have to be before I can get away with doing stuff like this?