Many years ago I was on the hour-long bus trip home from a day at the office. A businessman got on the bus. He was intoxicated. There were lots of seats available, but he sat in the seat next to me. I really didn't want to talk to him. He leaned toward me and insisted I carry on a conversation with him. He wanted to know if I worked in the city, and what I did. I said, "Yes, I have an office there."
He continued: "What kind of work do you do?" I told him that I was self-employed—that I helped people.
"What do you have in your briefcase?" he asked.
