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Bus Story: The Sting (really a mildly annoying poke) of Rejection

May 9, 2011

The riders on the ole 54 are greeted by a fog-enshrouded morning and a Monday to boot. Coats are heavier then most would like to be wearing this far into spring, and feelings rest on the sleeves of those jackets like so many cabbage butterflies, gently resting, ready to fly at any disturbance. A young man reads his book and smiles. Very official-looking woman in a power suit hurls herself into the seat next to him. He looks despondent, having lost the space around him and he pulls himself tighter, sitting more upright, less at ease. But then, Power Woman spots some other seat, deems it superior, and catapults out of her spot and heads towards the better locale from which to plot the overthrow of the controlling shareholder. I look back at the guy but rather than looking pleased that his personal real estate has returned to its relatively expansive state, he looks hurt and confused, like he did something wrong. We are funny creatures; we highly value our space, and would rather not give it up, but if even a stranger doesn’t want to share it, we feel the rejection. Don’t worry, Reader Dude, it’s not you, it’s her.


From → Bus Stories

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