doorman again

middle-age American living in New Jersey near the Lincoln Tunnel «« Reader note: I choose the masculine: doorman, because I’ve not known a doorwoman.  audio for this text.  I noticed a slight increase in the attention I got on my click-history reports when I introduced my bucket in NYC.  Now after a year’s retreat in New Jersey I am reentering NYC with my bucket, which combined with my nametag passively solicits questions about my bucket.  Knowing some people ask as a polite version of the negative judgment of my bucket I rehearsed a brush-off answer.  With irony I partial celebrate and partially regret I used my rehearsed brush-off answer for the first time on a man who was sincerely curious.  I am a man who enjoys attention and someone like Diego is obviously someone’s attention I would seek, but I found myself launching my brush-off answer, and at this moment I still don’t know why.  Diego’s curiosity turned to my nametag tag, and then my bucket, and my answer, “it’s for home project”, which killed the dialog and then I progressed to get my picture taken for Postmates on Jay Street in Dumbo Brooklyn NYC.  During onboarding I learned a problem Postmates face: doorman.  Though most pedicab drivers put the police first, and then doormen, as a pedicab driver, I put fellow pedicabs first, and then doorman.  Even though we differed on number one nearly unanimously pedicab drivers either avoided doormen or enjoyed being a nuisance to them.  I had the latter strategy.  Given my history with doormen I lost some sleep last night thinking about Diego highlighting a problem I’ll face: doormen again.  Diego gave us one strategy to pass the doormen directly rather than getting relegated to the service entrance.  In an effective manner he prepares his approach by not behaving like a delivery man.  My restless moments last night gives me an alternate strategy: dress like a UPS man.  After time to get my gig together including rehearsal I anticipate dressed in my UPS costume being asked if I have a delivery.  My drama begins: silently perplexed I look behind me as if to say, “wtf . . no boxes”.  I then pass unimpeded with my schlepable, though not shippable delivery, to the elevators.  The intensity of pleasure now reveals to me I am not finished with doormen. »» about me  302-990-2346  twitter  contact us

About Tom Doody

middle-age American living in New Jersey near the Lincoln Tunnel
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