I don't do the really interesting surveying in the wilds of Alaska, nor do I dig down six feet in the middle of a dirt road in the sure knowledge that I'll find an original stone. What I do mostly are mundane shopping centers.
The first problem is the enticing aroma of cinnamon buns in the oven at 7 am, followed by disgusting greasy chicken cooking at 9 am. This week's shopping center has a steak burger place, so all day there is the pervasive odor of fried onions. Smells pretty good, actually.
The previous shopping center had the gentle aroma of pizza, which was making me hungry. Across the street was a poor old soul begging for money. He wasn't just homeless, he was a real bum, with rotten teeth and distended abdomen, but he was surprisingly articulate when I chatted with him. I had a peanut butter sandwich for my lunch, and I figured the pizza aroma was tantalizing him even more than it was me, so I walked over with a $20. He was so grateful I thought he was going to cry. I gather the begging business wasn't going too well and he was pretty hungry.
>Across the street was a poor old soul begging for money. He wasn't just homeless, he was a real bum, with rotten teeth and distended abdomen, but he was surprisingly articulate when I chatted with him. I had a peanut butter sandwich for my lunch, and I figured the pizza aroma was tantalizing him even more than it was me, so I walked over with a $20. He was so grateful I thought he was going to cry. I gather the begging business wasn't going too well and he was pretty hungry.
Nice story. Personally, I'd consider surveying around shopping malls to be much more difficult than anything rural work has ever delivered.
Plus one.
