The question should be what am I not?
Well, they say I am not a psycho. I don't dry my underwear in the hand dryers of the downtown public restroom. I don't shout "what uuuup" like a barely teen would in a grocery store. A broken up women looking up me from the ground while I stock shelves and she asks, "Is that how you address your customers?"
I am not a therapist. I do not listen to the hurt purge their problems on my ears as if my ears were their garbage cans. I am not one of those psycho ex-husbands who takes a divorce the wrong way and decides to issue a restraining order against his ex-wife and calls the police if she even shows up at a restaurant to ask for her alimony checks, while her kids squalor in the background.
