Parallels

O’Reilly’s Bar was dark and damp. Perfect. After a few drinks, the two men were shooting the breeze like they were old friends.

“My job is horrible,” said Jack, laughing.

“Oh yeah? What do you do?”

“I’m an IT support guy. And I tell you, some of the dumbest people call me every day. I’m talking people who don’t know if their computer is plugged in or not. You know all those IT jokes you hear? Well, all of them happened to me at least twice. I’m not shitting you.”

“Oh yeah?” Bob was laughing.

“Yeah. You know, I’m sure there are smart people out there. People who know their ass from a flowerpot. They just never call me, so I have this image of an average user being a moron.”

“It’s kind of like my job.”

“What do you do, Bob.”

“I’m a cop. And I will never believe everyone in this world is a meth head, thief, killer, or rapist. That’s just not possible.”

They drank some more.

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