Monday, May 24, 2004
I worked today at the golf lounge. It was very slow. I read the entire first Harry Potter book, save one chapter.
I spent the rest of the shift listening in to the golfers' conversations. Whoever said rich people don't talk about money aren't quite correct. They'd never stoop to discuss a new deal, but they spend a great deal of time talking about real estate and the stock market. I tried to listen for good tips while reading the business section of the paper. Dry reading, that. Except for an article on the recent collapse of the airport wing in Paris. And a trapese artist in Wisconsin fell without a net and died. I don't know why that counted as business, but oh well.