Day CLXVl

The Young Dominican

     I ran into him at a club one day,

    “My man, how are ya? I never thought I’d see ya again.”

    “How’s biz?”

    “Great, man I’ve learned to delegate authority, man. I got this great book, I’m gonna lend it ta ya, next time I sees ya. So ya can loin sompen, dude.”

     “What’s it about, man? I’m always willing to learn new things, especially if it’s gonna helps me make some lettuce, ya na.”

   “It just little things you can do to help you manage ya biz, man. I promise I’ll gi ya da book.”

     We dropped the topic, scouted the babes, and enjoyed the music. He asked a good looking, redheaded babe to the dance floor, and that was the last time I saw him that evening.

     As can be expected, the girl, his employee, leaned something too. She soon decided she didn’t need him, and since she had a permit, off she went on her own.

     A week later I gave him a call.

    “Oh sheeet man, she ripped me off, ya cain’t trust nobody nomo, ” he told me. He got depressed, sold the wagons, and abandoned the business.

     Not long after that, an enterprising young Dominican dude saw the opportunity in that corner. The location was prime for a bodega, and every time I went to a game at the old Stadium, I saw his guys there. They were selling Tees, hot dogs, and all kinds of Yankee stuff out of that bodega. It’s still there, though the stadium moved a few blocks up. My pal never saw the opportunity. Things like that will either push you over the edge to the other side, or to greater tobacco abuse.