This post was originally published November 27, 2015
I'm sixteen years old, getting into my Izusu Trooper after school on a nice spring afternoon. I had moved my car from the parking lot to the curb in front of the theater during drama class, my last class of the day, so that I can make a quick getaway after the bell rings and avoid the traffic. As I pull out away from the curb, I see someone running towards my car. This person, who I'll call Micah (to protect his identity and also because he was so insignificant to me that I don't remember his name) darts in front of my car, forcing me to slam on the breaks, and taps against my window.
Read moreThis post was originally published January 12, 2015
From speaking to some of my seasonal friends, it started to look like most of the seasonal employees would just fade away, and a select few would stay. This was not the case for Alex, the seasonal alien.
Read moreThis post was originally published January 9, 2015
A month into my new job at a department store in New York City, the store hired a group of seasonal employees for the holiday season. This batch of employees, mostly men from the ages of 18 to 25, were the "weirdest group" ever seen in the history of the store, as calculated by a long-time employee and coworker of mine, Randy. Most of the men were trying to earn money while in school, though some were trying to build a career in fashion or retail. Of the new hires on my floor, the men's floor, I got to know a few and found that they were kind, eager, and a little unfocused. Now take this description, imagine the opposite, and call that man Alex.
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