Careful as I am to keep a safe distance from everyone around me, on occasion I find myself a bit too close to a few people I know, no matter how superficially. Lately, they are always waiters. Misjudging my easy ways and my disarming chumminess, they start telling me about their problems, all of which are perfectly predictable. Tediously so, in fact. One bitches about the bossiness of his immediate superior, another about the low pay, and the third about the long hours. Surprise, surprise. Sooner or later, I become their crying shoulder. If they do not leave one of my favorite watering holes soon enough, I am forced to consider leaving it myself. The price of misplaced closeness.