A guy who I deliver to came to the door with his arm in a sling. He said he had had an operation on his elbow and hadn't been to work since just after Christmas.
'I'm bored stupid, I want to go back to work,' he said.
'Get a hobby!' I said.
'I like diving, but can't go 'coz of this thing,' he said, pointing to his sling.
'Why don't you read a book,' I said, enthusiastically. 'Or write your memoirs!'
'What could I write? Was born - went to school - worked - retired. I could fit the entire thing on a postcard!' he said.
I thought how sad this was. This guy lives to work. He told me he loves his job, which is fine, but then he said that he's not looking forward to retirement.
What a shame how he lives to work.
When his work is gone, will he fail to live?
I grabbed hold of him and shouted in his ear for him to wake up, then I threw his letters at him and ran away like a girl.