Free Advice on the Streets of Key West
I still am not sure how to make a real living in Key West. The service industry seems to be the largest form of employment, but I retired from waitressing in Kentucky. I did apply and buy a street vendors permit. After a few months of not thinking of anything to sell, I came up with the idea to give free advice for tips. For two months, I set up shop on the corner of Duval and Eaton Street in front of St. Paul's Episcopalian Church. I brought two lawn chairs on my bike, one for me and one for the advice seeker, and a small tray table which held a hand-painted piece of wood reading, “Free Advice” and jar for tips.
For a while, Free Advice seemed to be working. On my fourth night, I made out with a hundred and twenty seven dollars in tips. Of course a hundred of those tips came from a wealthy stocks and bonds guy seeking advice on why he was still single. He said I seemed happier than all the rich people he worked with and as he left, reaching into his pocket, he threw a wad of twenties. Most nights however, averaged only thirty to forty dollars, and as the tourist season started to die I could not justify staying out three hours a night for ten dollars. People that you may have never expected did choose to sit down with me and explain their problems. I even had a couple homeless men cry. Many people thought I was psychic, even though I told them I was not. I simply gave good, and sometimes bad advice. Everyone, young and old, seemed to ask the same question, “What should I do with my life?”. “Well what do you want to do?,” I often replied as they gave me an unsatisfied expression. A huge quantity of the questions were about relationships. Is she or he in love with me? Should I stay, should I go? Younger people were dealing with first-loves-lost and long-distance relationships caused by changes in life such as college or joining the coast guard. Unhappily married men went on about how their wives were jealous of visits to Hooters and made them feel jailed. Recently divorced men asked me how to get back into the dating scene and approach women. There were also the numerous drunk prat-boy-but-grown-up types who thought it was hilarious to ask me crude questions about sex, as a thirteen year old might. One women, with a psychology degree, just wanted to vent to some random stranger about her controlling ailing mother. I gave her permission to let go and she felt satisfied.
