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In my rants I often talk about my old workplace.

Not that one, the other one.

I worked at a little copy shop for about 3 years back when I first started working for myself. They actually had a printing press in the back and needed someone to pre-press work. So I would do that, but also go up to the front and help randoms who just wanted to make a copy of something.

Random story: I started working a corporate job at 14, so never worked anything else before starting there. And they had a cash register. I had no clue how to use it. Learned fast, but I was a little embarassed at first.

This little copy shop brought in the whole neighborhood. Businesses, local people, all everyone. I absolutely loved working there, even if it was a really hard time in my life. The business moved onto Lake Street and it wasn’t quite the same.

I drove past it yesterday. Almost thought I had confused where it was, because the block is gone. Town Talk, Gandhi Mahal, everything. Demolished.

And a flood of memories came back. Like the Halal market next to us that we used to go and get soda from pretty much daily. Or the line cook from Town Talk that would stumble by before his shift. After spending hours at the Rail Station getting totally drunk.

I remember Midori from Midori’s Floating World coming in to get more chopstick holder printed along her husband and little girl.

I remember checking out which vehicle Steve from the liquor store was driving that day. I remember the guy who owned like half the buildings around us pulling up in his BMW and parking in the middle of the street.

I remember the day Nuevo Rodeo got raided by the cops (that was one interesting day). I remember the woman who swore an Onion article was real.

I remember chatting with the the older gentleman who came in from the assisted living place nearby. He was at Pearl Harbor on the Phoenix.

I keep trying to think of a way to end this. But I can’t. So The End by Claire.