At the bank with Amber
I’m sitting on the floor outside of the bank. The security guard couldn’t leave even if it wasn’t raining. A man in a purple dress shirt leans against the railing and looks at the flowers. Two ladies share a small plastic stool. Another stands reading a newspaper. Wealthy men come and go in big, black cars. They pay for their freedom while the rest of us stare away.
How long will I wait before I call a car to come and pick me up and take me home? How long will I tolerate inefficiency and zero productivity? Intelligent people carry umbrellas. Cheap solutions to real problems.
Do I have an exit strategy? Will I sit here until it stops, no matter how long it takes or (my back is starting to ache from sitting on this hard floor) will I pull out my rich, white lady card and call a car to take me back to work?