Joseph

Everyday at 11:35, I have a two minute conversation with "trash guy" Joseph.
He comes into my building dragging along two gigantic trashbins that in two seconds fill up my glass enclosed lobby with the most unpleasant smell.

I used to snub him...

He is a small, Chinese man with quirky hair and a walk to match. Just not my type of person you know? Plus by the looks of it he doesn't speak a lick of English.

Welp my ignorant ass was wrong.

Last week, Joseph asked me my name. He had noticed I was not there to say hello when I took St. Patrick's Day off.

Today we got the basics down. How am I? Am I married? How old am I? Why don't I work full-time? ... which led us to money. I explained I am lucky enough to live at home and am able to live off a parttime salary. Then he says...

"Money don't mean anything. Look at the people in Japan. Everything they had gone."
Thank you Joseph for teaching me not to judge a book by its cover and to be happy with what I have.