I am miserable on a dance floor. No rhythm, no moves, I can’t tell my left from my right. I was fine at the junior high slow dance, which involved swaying slowly in a circle with some sweaty kid. There is only one dance that I have ever excelled at and that is the dance of work.
My very first job was at a small ice-cream shop in my small home town, I was 13. Everyone I worked with was older, much older to me, though it was only a few years difference. I couldn’t figure our why they were always filling balloons with the nitrous gas that we used to make whipped cream, that realization would come much later. It was at this ice cream shop that I first felt graceful, maneuvering around 2 other employees, filling orders with speed and I thought panache. I even thought about writing a book about “the dance” the particular unplanned choreography that allows a rush to happen without anyone bumping into one another.
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