Thursday, February 29, 1996

Reader to Reader

A woman and I were waiting for an elevator on the 24th floor of a downtown building when a bicycle messenger came bustling around a corner whistling some tune.

"It's nice to hear someone whistling," the woman said to him. "I certainly don't feel like it."

"Having a bad day?" the messenger asked.

"I hate my job."

"You ought to do something you like."

"I don't think I'd like to make that my profession."