Tuesday in August. It is the 11th day. Things are quiet at the fruit stand as usual. The main fruit stand is understaffed. So much so that Yancy, who has returned from a family visit, sent me a Slack and wondered if I was busy because to Yancy IT DID NOT SEEM LIKE I WAS DOING ANY WORK TODAY.

If Yancy would take a minute and check the folder he would see a good number of fruit stand requests have been filled by yours truly. It was off-putting for my supervisor to claim I was not working. Yancy talks about a two hour window to fulfill these requests but more often than not, they are completed minutes after receiving them.

At 8AM I am generally starting before Janis, Violet, Kimberly and start filling the requests that come in after 5PM. I try to get in before 8AM and when I am at the main fruit stand I notice that others are not in until after 8AM, except for maybe Violet who is a contracted employee just like me, not a full time employee like Janis or Kimberly or Mr Kool Aid himself, Yancy.

Yancy is almost always in when I get in. At my fruit stand I usually have 10-20 minutes of getting the day started. At the main fruit stand the day starts at 8AM. I have to admit it pissed me off, Yancy thinking I was not doing anything.

I also have to remember, not to trust anyone. Jimmy Chile is trustworthy and perhaps a few others but overall I am not sure beyond Jimmy Chile.

Pam. Pam is a cooking spray that came out in the 1970s. It was created so that food won’t stick to the pan when cooking. My mother refused to buy it. She found out at work from Lucy Ardizzone or Barbara DeLuca that kids where huffing cans of Pam and getting high. I had never heard of it and never had an inkling to do such a thing. She listened to these women as they did their business in the ladies room of the HBJ warehouse.

Presently I am in the midst of an online discussion with Mike. His beloved Wade needed $40 and Mike asked if I could wire it. I did. I figured that Wade would pay back once he got his money. But Wade sent the money to Mike who has it in his wallet and has been unable to get it back to me due to his parole officer.

I expressed how dumb this whole thing was, Wade should have just rewired the money back to me but no, it got stupid and Mike is all ‘I can’t deal with you right now’. It got worse from there. I do feel like a sucker. When I had ‘those’ feelings for Mike back then I went out of my way to make him happy.

Those feelings subsided and I still did things that were somewhat extraordinarily kind. And I never really got anything in return. Not that I was looking for it but it did not go unnoticed especially in moments like I find myself in now.

Mike just brought up the incompatibility of Gemini (him) and Virgo (me). He believes that and I do not. Why bother continuing this friendship? I’ll leave that on him.

It is the first Friday in August, and it’s friggin’ hot outside. More humid than anything, really. Not much in the way of breezes. On Thursday night, I stop by the cigar shop in Hoboken and get a nice mid-sized cigar for a lunchtime smoke. I got a Jaime Garcia, nice size, good cigar.

When I went outside to get my lunch, I found my spot filled with construction equipment so I would not be sitting and puffing away as I planned. I kept the Jaime Garcia in my shirt pocket and opted for the small Romeo and Julietta that I generally enjoy when on my lunch break. A rethink was required.

When I was walking back from getting my Halal food, I passed a building that is under some sort of construction or renovation. I figured that would do. I finished my Halal food. The guys in the truck generally hook me up, but it was a bit boring today.

Just not getting the same thrill I had gotten in the past. It was satisfactory and filling but bland overall. Not their fault at all. Just tired taste buds on my tongue.

Bill and I watched the newest episode of Ted Lasso. He’s back with some of the same characters. The episode took place in Ted’s hometown, with Rebecca, Keeley and Higgins flying over to see if Ted would go back to Richmond and coach the women’s football team.

We sort of know how it will turn out but they’re releasing the episodes one at a time rather than making everything available for streaming all at once. Last night we watched the last 2 episodes of the third season. Of course we’d seen them before, a few times, but it really is such a good, heartwarming show we really didn’t mind.

So I sat on the steps next to a sign that said ‘Rat Poison’ was in the area of the building undergoing renovation. A few people smiled as they walked by, I guessed the smell of the cigar was not as off-putting as I thought it would be. Most of the time all you can smell on the streets is weed, and it doesn’t seem to be a natural smell of weed, but rather something artificial.

As I sat, Marcus strolled by with his Chick Fillet in a bag. Today is his last day and he really hasn’t said much to me at all. I suppose that’s how it will be. His leaving won’t be a bang, but a whimper. He walked by, looking either straight ahead or looking ahead, and in any event did not see me or if he did, he didn’t have anything to say to me.

Now Marcus has left the fruit stand, having handed in his gloves and fruit-picking equipment. There was no face to face goodbye but he left a note, which was something in itself. He urged me to work with the team, though I thought I was doing that.

Perhaps I need to be more gregarious? I don’t know. He mentioned that there were a lot of personalities, but I should just try and no one wants me to fail. He says I have a knowledge and a sense of people that the team doesn’t know about and Marcus would like me to show it. That was nice, wasn’t it? Was it?

I discussed this with Bill and it was a good talk. I explained that I work by myself, alone for 90% of the time. It’s a fact. Marcus didn’t seem to realize that. He never saw me at the major fruit stand, working alongside Kimberly, Janis and Violet, not to mention Yancy.

Bill reminded me that Marcus is more than half my age and is still growing, as am I.