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My Boss

 A strange part of middle age is slowly realizing you may be older than your boss.


The person who employs me seems slightly lost. "I was at a crossroads ten years ago," he says. "I was pursuing a PhD in math, but also, I was in this Bruce Springsteen cover band, and I wanted to make that work. Both things sort of fizzled, but my neighbor was a tutor, and he gave me gigs, and that became my life."

This story sends my head spinning. I wonder if Bruce himself ever considered the route of SAT tutoring. "I could draft 'The Rising' ....or I could start digging into those quantitative comparisons...."

Anyway, I encourage my employer to snap out of it. "Can you tell me about parking?" I ask.

"I always park illegally, around the corner. The cops will hand out a ticket--but it's only, like, once a year...."

"Thanks!" (Perhaps this guy could meet my therapist?) "...Can we talk about your cancellation policy?"

"I don't know. There might be one, in one of the documents. If the family is, like, nice, and they give late notice, I let it slide. But, you know....Don't let someone take advantage of you...."

My boss departs; he has scheduled some time at a local gym. In fact, he has been at work all day in his gym shorts; a little beer belly peeks out above the elastic waist. And so: My new life begins.

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