Any Time at All
I was working the counter at our auto parts store when a man in a suit stepped up and flashed some sort of official looking ID at me. He then asked if I was Bill Evans. “Why don’t you show me your identification a little more slowly?” I asked politely. “That was a little quick.” The guy scowled as he once again pulled his wallet from his pocket and flopped out some impressive looking credentials. I carefully read everything before snapping a picture with my phone. “I don’t think you can do...