C is watching the news online, with a blonde anchorwoman reporting. E has just finished doing fingerprints for a customer. He turns around to see what C is watching. He says, "I'd fingerprint that." C and I look at each other, cracking up. E is in his seventh decade. E looks at the two of us, and says, "Whaaat? I just meant I'd fingerprint her if she came in here." More laughter from all three of us. It's about E's leaving time, and after he's out the door, C says, "Nasty grandpa."

A day later, a young woman comes in for a minor car repair. He father will pay the bill. C asks her, in front of E and me, "Do you need fingerprints? E can do for you." He smiles over at me conspiratorially. A suspicious laughter erupts from the three of us. I try to neutralize the effect by explaining to her, "Yeah, we have a lot of different businesses here, and he just added a notary service too. She shows interested surprise, "Really?" C says, "Yeh, I can do for you. Soon, bail bonds too. But now, E can do finger prints and oil change for you." E is not a mechanic, and I have only recently learned what oil change can refer to among men, and she is sweet enough to have been raised in a similarly innocent way and is Latina. I smile kindly at her, go maternal and call her honey, trying to release some of the testosterone fumes which have risen so quickly. I succeed and she leaves feeling good customer service vibes. The door shuts and we collapse into raucous laughter.

C notices a BT-1000 bouncing in her own little world at the bus stop. He says, "Come on, E, before you go home, go dance with her." E looks out of the window, "She's only got one move!" "I think she's advertising," I say. He says with a wink, "She looks like she's trying to hitch a ride."

Before E leaves, he comments out of nowhere, "I'm a racist just because I'm [paleface]. I have no choice." I chime in, "Yep, everything is our fault, even if we didn't do it. He says, But [Dindu] people aren't racist, are they, CK?" CK is our resident African, and C's eyebrows go up, his lips pursing at the comedy of E's brazen question to CK. CK just looks at him, not believing the question, "Go home, mon, Go home." I look over at CK, "I think you should put up a wall between your space and E's. C says, "Yeah, at the top, put 'Trump Wall.'" E hasn't left yet. CK has a trip planned soon to Africa. He tells CK, "In one week, you'll be home, no computers, running around in bare feet." Too much for CK, "We have computers, go home, take a nap." E concedes, seeing us later.

C knows I am interested in cultural stuff and seems to like educating me. He tells me parts of the story and actually pulls up a film of it on YouTube of Arjuna and Krishna, in which Arjuna is ready for war, with Krishna egging him on (excuse me if I'm inaccurate here, I haven't looked it up yet), and he and his grandfather who have been closer to each other than anyone else in the family are facing the prospect of being forced to go through with this war and kill each other. And they are each other's favorite family members. This really strikes a nerve with me, and my eyes fill up with tears instantly. C tells me, "My son, when he see this, he cry very much, very much..."

I look at him, my eyes overflowing. It is evident to me in this moment that I am not in Corporate America and will not be judged or fired for my tears. I breathe in this gift that is incalculable to me and continue to be a human being, while he explains the story.

Namaste—it is a greeting which means, I bow to the holy in you, which I am feeling deeply, which is not attached to anything religious for me and means so much spiritually.

My holy moment is one in which I am fully human, and it will not be used against me. A moment without pretense, because no master requires it of me, where my tears and my attachments are not weaknesses, my sensitivity is not an impediment, my love does not make me vulnerable nor is to be used against me, and imperfect though I may be, I am a keeper for a number of souls for whom my love for them matters. Corporate America and the Anglo culture have beaten me down this much, that I have had all of these doubts. And it has been a damn shame.

This, however, is one of the best days I've had on a job, period.