The other day, I told Connie that I'd rather take the bus to work than ride in my comfortablelimousine, because of the high cost of gasoline. But today, I discovered how wrong I was.
When I got into mylimousinethis morning, my driver told me that the motor didn't sound like it was running well.
“Look,” I said, “I have an important meeting at 9:00. I have to be on time!”
We drove about three blocks—then the motor died.
“Sorry, Mr. Foster. I thought this might happen. But look! There's the downtown bus. Maybe you should take it. So you don't miss your meeting.”
“Well, I…I…Oh! I suppose I have to.”
I got on the bus and gave the driver my money.
“Mister, are you serious? We can't make change for a $100 bill!”
“I AM CHARLES K. FOSTER. AND I ORDER THAT YOU SHOULD MAKE CHANGE!”
“Mister,” said the driver, “I don't care who you are. You will have to get off the bus.”
Well. I was so mad when I got off that bus that I didn't watch where I was going, and I was almost hit by a car! So now, all I have to say is this: My business may be killing me, but riding the bus certainly will.
