John stood at the window of his fifth floor office and smiled at the traffic on the street below. All those cars speeding past with their Monday morning drivers jockeying for a position nearer to the front of the line. Only to have to slam on their brakes again as the light on the corner of Grand St. turned red. In their eagerness to get to the jobs they hated, they’d start inching forward with each second that passed until the light would turn green and they could stomp on the accelerator to go another ¼ mile before screeching to a stop again on Jefferson.
He turned his attention to a group of little kids in the park across the street. Amused at how they clutched their mother’s fingers with one hand while they tried to toss bread crumbs from the other. Then they would quickly back away and peer out from behind the legs of their protector as the ducks and pigeons scurried forward to snatch them up. Jumping up and down with joy they would point their fingers and giggle at the fascination of it all.
“You know, it really doesn’t take much to make people happy. I sure wish you would have learned that lesson years ago.” John said, as he turned around to look at his lifeless body slumped over the desk. Its face buried in the quarterly reports that just had to be finished. It was still wearing the same suit he had worn to work on Friday.
Category: flash
They just don’t make them like they use to…
A friend and I were talking the other day and the subject came up about shoddy workmanship in the products we buy nowadays. He was upset because he had to upgrade his phone again. I know it’s easy to place the blame onto the modern day worker or the fact that so much of our consumer product comes from China or Vietnam. But I don’t think the blame that can be put on the workers themselves. I believe the blame lies on the shoulders of the todays
You see, back in the old days, our grandfathers and even our parents had to scrimp and save every penny, sometimes for years to purchase things like cars, houses, televisions or air conditioners. They demanded that the items they bought were of quality construction because they knew that they probably would never buy another one. But with us, even if they did build an item to last a lifetime, we would still want to trade it in every few years because we are always on the lookout for the next best thing. Nothing pleases us more than to be able to use the excuse that the one we have is broken. We can complain about it on the outside but on the inside we give a little smile.
So can we blame a company for knowing that if they make a product that has to be replaced or upgraded every few years means more cha-ching in their pockets? After all, we get what we ask for.
Intolerable
When my friend opens her mouth, hatred and ugliness comes flying out. I look at my wife who mirrors my quizzical expression and we wonder how one person could hate everything so much? True, she’s not rich, but certainly not poor either. She isn’t an ugly woman. She has a loving husband, nice children and a few wonderful grandchildren.
Perhaps age is creeping into her mind and she’s feeling mortal.
Has she been angry for so long that it just seems normal or does she just enjoys being angry.
I have to wonder, does she care that she’s becoming intolerable?
Non Inspirational Quotes
You hear some pretty strange things while checking people out. If I ever held any hope for the future of mankind, well…
“Last night, the internet was down for over 30 minutes. I mean, the world could have ended and I would never have known about it.” – A 17 year old co-worker talking to another employee.
“I’m tired of being broke all the time.” She tweeted from her $2000 phone. – a twenty something wife talking to her friend while waiting in line to purchase $300 dollar shoes.
“The lines are always so long in this store and I refuse to use the self-checkout. I don’t work for this store. Next time, I’ll just order it from Amazon.” – A 60 year old woman talking to her husband.
What’s Taking so Long…
A long time ago, just after people found out the world isn’t flat; we got our news from something called a newspaper. ‘The Carrollton Daily Democrat’ or ‘morning coffee rag’ as we called it, was printed on large sheets of paper, thrown on the back of a truck and hauled off to some poor ‘smo’ who would ride his bike through the freezing rain at the butt crack of dawn to toss it up onto the roof or into the neighbor’s yard. But sadly, as time progressed, we found ourselves unable to wait a few hours for our news of ‘world destruction’, ‘what stupid shit did Trump say today or ‘what’s J-Lo up to these days’. So we turned to technology to deliver us from our boredom.
Now I get my news a thousand times a day in 140 character bursts. I’m still just as confused as I was back then and now I don’t have anything to put in Tweeties cage.
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Jerry Brotherton 