“He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it.”

I hate it when someone knows my name and I don’t know theirs.

Well…not really, but let me try and explain.

At work, there is this nice security guard. We smile and nod and exchange pleasantries in the morning and throughout the day if we run into each other. About a month or so ago, he waves good-bye and calls me by my name. It is in passing, and I don’t have a chance to ask for him name. He is just Nice Security Guard. Now it is over a month later and I still don’t know his name. He has been out of work these past couple days and he was back at the front desk this morning so I ask how he is. And he says better and explains how he’s been really sick and glad to be back at work. I can see in his face he is very appreciative that I took the time to ask how he was doing. I had no idea he was sick, so I am glad I took the time to ask how he was before taking the stairs up to the 10th floor. Now I feel bad because I don’t know his name and it is way too late to ask for it.



I may have to break down and ask someone else and hope it doesn’t get back to him that I don’t know his name. Sometimes I feel like the worst person. It’s not that I don’t care about people’s names and information. I just feel like if I have to ask, they don’t want me to know. I have been at this job for almost 8 months now and never once did he tell me his name. *shocked sound* What? Wow. Eight months and still loving it.

Speaking of random thoughts… I need to get a ladder to clean out my stupid gutters. Ugh, adulting sucks.

On to getting some work done!


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