My second senior year in college I worked at the Atrium Art Gallery. This day I was working a one hour shift and had parked out at the meters. 3 minutes before I had to lock up and leave this hipster-to-be freshmen fucker walks in and mopes around the gallery. After he is there for ten minutes I approach him to politely ask him to leave so I could close the gallery. Before I can ask he starts bitching about having to sculpt something for class. Eventually he includes me in the conversation. He says in his troubled voice, "Tell me something. Change my life."
I reply, "Fuck you. Change your own life. It's not my job."
He says some more boring shit that i probably was thinking about when I was a freshmen art student. I finally I to lock up and head out to my car praying not to have a ticket on my windshield. The punk cost me $10.
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