Just look at her. Red dress on a Monday afternoon. Definitely unemployed. Probably not a good enough specimen, Mr. Slick mumbled to himself while taking a bite out of a muffin. Mr. Slick is wearing a tie. He is probably late to work and hence hasn’t ordered a full English breakfast like always. I should keep tailing him if I want to sell him my Band Aid, muttered the Sexy Woman chasing Mr. Slick. But she isn’t important to this story. Neither is Mr. Slick and not even the beautiful and unemployed woman who Mr. Slick is looking at. No, this story is not about any of them. It’s about me. I look over all of these people. I am God. I am unaffected by these product pushing people, said Obnoxious-y, the obnoxious waiter. He probably won’t even buy my razor blade, fuck him, I should put him in low income. I should try to sell it to Mr. Slick but he’ll just try to sell me whatever the fuck he sells, thought the Woman in the Red Dress. Mr. Slick thinks she is unemployed but I know that she’s just selling those razor blades. Not on my life. If Mr. Slick is going to buy anything then it’s going to be my paper weight, said Mr. Sir Mister, the dwarf salesman who has never managed to sell a single paper weight. 

The mood was tense in the tiny French Coffee shop. Mr Slick was nowhere near finishing his muffin. Obnoxious-y was mumbling utter nonsense to himself like always. Sexy lady is way too sexy, she is definitely not going to sleep with anyone in this coffee shop. The woman in the red dress though. She would be easy. Her dress makes her seem accessible. Mr. Objectifying Writer wrote in his laptop as the first scene in his screenplay. He clearly knows his audience. Me? I’m just a lowly sweeper who sweeps this coffee shop. I talk for myself. Unfortunately, nobody would put me in their target audience. Well, that’s because I can’t buy any of these things. Oh man but I would definitely love to. If I had the money, I would let Mr. Slick shower me with his specifically targeted advertisements. Oh I would love that. I would buy Sexy Lady’s Band aids, Obnoxious-y’s religion, Red Dress Woman’s razor blades and Mr. Sir Mister’s paper weights. Hell, I would even watch Mr. Objectifying Writer’s films. At least he’s not an arrogant fellow. 

In fact, none of these guys are arrogant. That’s what makes them special. That’s why I love working here. The excitement of finding out who belongs where is incomparable to anything else in life. It’s nice to know who’s unique personality fits in which generalized group. I wish my unique personality could fit within one of those groups. That’s all I ask for. That’s all I want to work for. Maybe one day, I will have the money to have that. For now, I just sweep. That’s all I do.

It feels nice to be around people who wouldn’t challenge me to a mental duel. People who will do their job and put the meat on the table. That’s how a person wins respect. These people know that everything else is Bullshit and that it doesn’t matter who’s selling what. I hope all these people are able to sell all of their products. I know I want to buy all of it. But I’m just unable to do that. I wish I wasn’t consumed by all the bullshit. I think I am meant to be a sweeper. Just cleaning the filth around. Waiting for more filth to come tomorrow. If there won’t be any more filth left, then maybe I’ll be able to buy some of these things. But for now, the filth keeps coming and I have no choice but to try and sweep it away. That’s my story and I’m not going to charge you a dime for it.