Sitting in the De Pere library this morning. Outside them window, the roofs of the apartment buildings have a thick layer of snow. The sky is a deep velvety gray. Inside the library, children are crying. Petulant, squally cries. It's hard to take.
Like I said before, the guy who manages this place is a real piece of work. I keep asking myself how he managed to get where he is on the feeding chain. Clearly, I have no idea what sort of things people trained for the human resource office look at when they hire someone. Maybe he was a different person when they first him brought in. Who knows? Who can say? Could be that he thrives on knowing there's a good chance he'll be checking into a cheap hotel because the whole thing has blown up in his face. Even now, he sometimes sleeps in his office. It's got this funky, locker room smell that he tries to cover up by opening the windows and putting out these cheap air fresheners, but he can never quite cover up. The concession stand workers and the ticket takers smirk at each other on those days when the air at the office smells of body odor. In quiet ironic tones, they ask each other what the fight could have been about this time.
Bob;-)
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