The other day I left the office around lunchtime and walked over to the Occupy Chicago gathering outside the Board of Trade. At the corner waiting for the light to change, I stood next to a protest drummer who fit the stereotype well: unshorn, unkempt and not much over 20.
While he drummed away, a man in his 60s joined us at the corner. This man was dressed crisply and professionally. It's possible he works at a small nonprofit—here at the Century, we all have reason to put on our fancy clothes once or twice a year—but I suspect his game is finance. I suspect this both because of the location and because of the unpleasantness he displayed toward the drummer.
"You know, you really suck at that." The possible banker looked down at the drum and then back up to catch the guy's eye, wearing a smirk that was equal parts "Burn!" and "Aren't you impressed with my command of the youthful vernacular?"
