Yesterday was a good day for people yelling in public.
I don’t mean they were having a good day. Judging from the yelling, two out of three were not. But it was a good day for spotting them.
There was the lady, trim, groomed, late 50s, designer bag, skinny jeans — the picture of a middle-aged, upper middle class New Yorker except that she was wearing a black t-shirt that said “HOMIES” and walking through the East Village wailing to nobody at a hoarse-making volume, “THIS WAS THE MOST IMPORTANT NIGHT OF YOUR LIFE AND YOU RUINED IT! I DID SO MUCH PLANNING AND FOR WHAT! YOU RUUUUUUINED IT!”
And then there was the 30-ish goateed man barking, to a 60-ish woman with funky glasses, short, silver hair, and a giant silver tote bag lying in the middle of the sidewalk, “YOU’RE THE FUCKING PHOTOGRAPHER! PICK UP YOUR SHIT. FROM THIS MINUTE FORWARD, YOU CAN CARRY YOUR OWN FUCKING TRIPOD.”
Bad days for those two yellers.
But then there was the third yeller, the neighborhood God Monger whose “THE LORD IS YOUR SAVIOR” yelling I ritually ignore because 1) he’s there at Union Square yelling the same thing all day every day 2) it’s religious (zzzzz), and 3) it’s intentionally public, rather than something private conflict I get to snoop on. All of that equals uninteresting.
What caught my attention this particular morning was that I saw him arriving for his job (of yelling).
Showin’ up for work.
Unlike the other yellers, he was having a good day, because it was going he way he intended it to.
He strode purposefully down the street with a cup of coffee in hand, checked his watch, and quickened his pace a little. And then, he got to his spot, took out his bible, and began the yelling.
I admire that dedication.
Getting up, putting on the yelling-appropriate outfit, getting coffee, getting there, clocking in. Unless you count Jesus, this guy’s his own boss. But he hustles to get yelling on time and be a professional anyway.
Me, I try. But on days when nothing’s due immediately, instead of working, I might find myself at the uptown Zara (it’s huge) trying on jeans for hours. True story.
What about you?
If you run your own work life, do you show up for it like a real job?
Heard any good yelling lately?
TELL ME IN THE COMMENTS.