There’s this guy who sits right in front of an ATM on York Road every single day. He’s there every time I walk to work and he’s almost always still there when I walk home.
 
The dude just sits on the wall there and watches people pass by. He used to hit me up for change back in the day, but I think he eventually started to recognize me and realize that I wasn’t going to pay out to him.
 
He’s an older black guy, kind of chubby; usually wearing denim. I’ve seen people stop and talk to him before, so I guess he’s made a few friends. Which is surprising for someone who wears a lot of denim.
 
I don’t generally have a problem with him now that he doesn’t ask me for money anymore, but he does irk me in one unique way. Every time I walk by he initiates small talk with me, which is fine, but EVERY time, the conversation goes the exact same way.
 
Him: “How’s it going, man?”
Me: “I’m good, how are you?”
 
Waaaaiiiit for it.
 
Him: *Siiiiiigh* “I’m okay I guess.”
 
I swear I’ve had this exact exchange with him no less than half a dozen times. Here’s the thing though… I’m reeeeeeally not interested. I don’t care how deeply he sighs or how melancholy he sounds when he tells me he “guesses he’s okay.” I honestly have no desire to stop and talk to this dude and find out his story, so I just keep walking.
 
I guess I can’t blame him for being honest; maybe his life sucks. Doesn’t mean I have to hear about it, though.