Things change and I’m glad.
In 1929, at 13, I had a “job” as a carhop at a drug store in Kansas City. I was paid nothing, just worked for tips. But one Sunday, when taken on a trip by the family, I didn’t show up on time, I was fired.
Anyway, now a baseball player whose salary is somewhat more than a carhop’s, doesn’t show up for work. His wife had the keys to the car. And the boss says, “It could happen to anyone.”
Maybe he was waiting for a streetcar? There will be one along when the RTD reaches Agoura.