I have discovered that talking with “poor people” is much more entertaining than having conversations with higher income folks. Let me clarify what I mean by “poor people”. I am not referring to the true slums of America but the apathetic, college drop-out, arts appreciator, social observers and semi-young people of America coalition. Working in a corporate culture, undoubtedly, most convos result to kitchen makeovers, discounts and coupons, Grey’s Anatomy or tax hikes. Unquestionably, I can contribute input on these domestic matters but what ultimately excites me in holding dialogue with fellow humans are the stories about interactions with people, quality movies they’ve watched, debates about who’s a better songwriter and personal accounts with a real plot. I could care less about how much you saved going to store B versus A or what color you decided to go with on your new carpet (especially if I never inquired). How dull. But I guess the inevitable shall hit me too one day, when I become a middle-age home owner with worries such as “what voltage light bulb is most efficient for my current energy bill?” or “what type of moisturizer best suits my complexion?” I suppose I’ll be on an anti-depressant by that time anyway, so it won’t really matter, will it?