I
got a call on Thursday morning. They didn't get a close-up shot of
the burned breakfast the day before. Can you please burn the
breakfast again, we'll shoot the pickup on Saturday.
I
didn't flinch. I've been asked stranger things. Working in
television, this was a very normal request.
Saturday
came. We burned the breakfast. We joked around, because nobody really
wanted to be at work on a Saturday. Christian got his finger stuck in
a door. Jared laughed and offered him a band-aid.
While
packing up Christian asked whether he can put the burned breakfast in
plastic bags for me to give away.
I
stopped at the traffic light. The guy came. Like he did last night.
And the night before. I smiled, gave him the breakfast and a banana.
He didn't say anything. He ran across the street, waived his buddy
closer and sat down on the sidewalk to eat.
I
hung my head in shame. I get irritated when I don't have blue
milkshakes or peanut butter in my house.
I'm
complaining that I picked up weight and the guy on the corner's
dinner depends on us burning a meal at work.
