Rituals. People who work in offices do them everyday. Make copies. Fax things. Drink coffee. Shit like that.
However, one of my favourite things professionals have made a serious ritual is to lie. Not regular lying. But lying to panhandle who sit beside the polished marble columns that line the bottom of mirrored towers.
The ritual goes like this: The panhandle ask for spare change. The professional office worker lies and says they don’t have any.
Imagine this scenario: “Hey buddy, can you help a guy out with some spare change?”
“Sorry, but I only carry twenties and fifties.”
People in offices have more money than they know what to do with. Some cultivate destructive addictions to consumer goods. A few brilliant ones cultivate self-destructive addictions to fine coke.
I’ve been asked for change everyday this week. More than once in a single trip sometimes. I had change. But it isn’t exactly spare, so I lied.
I’m going to spend it on beer. Normally I’d consider that selfish. But a good panhandle wants beer too.
It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there.
Besides, I am after all, a professional.