I take the SEPTA train into the City of Brotherly Love every weekday morning. Now, being a bit of a night owl, I’ve managed to train myself (no pun intended) to be able to sleep on the way in. In fact, sometimes the only thing that gets me out of bed is the fact that a nice little nap is waiting for me.
Another thing waiting for me is Carol. She’s the attendant who covers the R2 into Philly. She’s the best. Since we’re buddies, if I’m already sleeping by the time she comes into my car, she won’t even wake me up to see my train pass.
Not only that, but she always calls me “Honey.” I don’t know what it is, but I always get a kick out of that. If you’re a waitress and you call me “Honey” or “Sweetie,” your tip automatically goes up 10%.
So, last Friday when I was saying goodbye to my alliance partner before I headed off to work, I noticed a news report about how 48 Septa transit workers had pooled together and won the $172 million Powerball Lottery.
My first instinct? “Oh man, I hope Carol wasn’t one of those people.”
I then rewound my brain and realized how stupid and selfish that thought was. “Gee, I hope this person I like didn’t have her life change for the better so I can enjoy uninterrupted sleep on the way to work.” What was worse? When I got to my train and realized that she wasn’t one of the winners. I’m a prick.
I think I should buy Carol some Powerball tickets.
Even More Whatnot…