Committed

In only a month a routine has been established. I have morning coffee people, three in fact, a gal needs options, the street vendor, "Joe," the sweet lady at Au Bon Pain and the punk kid at Starbucks (saying 'punk kid' ages me, doesn't it?). Then, there's the Metro New York free paper guy at the base of the subway. Upon arriving to work, Ray awaits, the 68 year old flirting security guard and finally, Alexandra, the always-on-the-phone but buoyant greeter receptionist, who finally stopped calling me Cindy.

By the time I get to my desk, I have smiled and greeted almost a handful of people. These are the people I will see most during the week. These are potentially the people I can rely on seeing for a long time. So long as no one quits, finds a new street corner, gets fired, decide to stock the morning paper in a news bin, retire, or start telemarketing, I am in a commited relationship. A good one too. There are no conflicts and I would bet that it stays problem-free, perhaps I could have a chat with Joe and the amount of sugar he puts in a "regular," but aside from that, they will always be there for me. I just wonder if they're seeing other people.