I have seen this old lady in Miami twice.

She seems to be a hoarder on wheels. Every inch of space in her car, or what’s left of, is filled with stuff, except for the driver’s seat.

The first time I saw her I didn’t have the courage to approach. I was angry with myself. She probably had a great history to tell and what were the odds I’d see her again?

Well, I did see her again and I wouldn’t miss the opportunity. I walked towards her and politely asked her to tell me a little bit about herself.

She started saying that someone had taken the money for the sale of her father’s house and she wished some lawyer out there could help her.

I told her I write stories that I post on the Internet and if she minded if I wrote her story. “Yes, I DO mind!”, she replied very angrily.

Then she literally started to dish me out. And all the writing community!

“People who write stories do so because they don’t have anything better to do! Because they don’t have a job!”

That, of course, hit me a nerve. Not the job part, but the storytelling part. How did she dare say that about one of the most beautiful human abilities?

“Well, actually I do have a job. A very good one”, I replied.

She softened up. “Oh, what do you do?”

“I write and translate entertainment content for a media conglomerate.”

“I met some interpreters in court! You are all crooks.”

“And I also write stories”, I insisted. “If I write about you maybe someone out there will come forward and help.”

“No! Nobody will help me! Nobody cares! You know nothing! Bla bla bla!”

But I didn’t give up.

“But you said you wish some lawyer could help you. If I write your story…”

“Don’t you have anything better to do than writing stories?”

Well, she went on and on, pretty much humiliating me at every turn.

Sometimes you just have to give up a good history… If indeed there was one.

Bitterness is the worst thing that can happen to a human’s soul.