This morning I emailed my mother to vent about an issue I had with someone trying to rip me off and she shared the following:
“When you were little and we lived on Harrison I used to type for $1.50 per page. I advertised at [multiple local colleges]. Engineering students with accents were charged more and were told in advance I only accepted cash. The non-racist reason was experience taught me that some cultures wanted to bargain and negotiate after the work is done and I was not in a bargaining mood after listening to a two year old and her Kitty sing rock songs while I worked. The old whistle while you work thing was not necessary. I had a two year old lisping to the Rolling Stones, Creedence Clearwater Revival and other assorted drug addicts. Life was good.”
This made me laugh because it reminds me of the crap that my parrots do when I am working out of the house. Kitty was my stuffed Sylvester. Here is a picture of me during my “rock star” years.
em
