It is 5:32. Ante Meridieum. The bouncy Andean music coming from the top of my chest of drawers should not be happening. Nothing happens at this hour. I brace myself. “Mr. W., we have some difficult news”… I know it’s coming.
Instead, I am hearing the details regarding the buzzes coming from an 18 year old student grade guitar and dude can we meet at noon so you can fix it?
I have a sliding scale for payment, and a bench-rate for estimates that I never invoke. Maybe this is the time.