Jerk
"Hey!"
Commuter yells at him. He's looking at Commuter's shoes. They are light brown and have pointier toes than he likes. They look beat to shit so they are probably--
"Hey, Buddy! Can you hear me?"
--pretty comfortable. The song on his headphones is almost over. His eyes start to move up. Commuter's khakis are brand new. Probably going to--
"Hey, jerk!"
--an interview. The song ends and the dead air hiss fills his ears. He hasn't had a new name in a while. He decides Jerk has a certain ring to it.
Jerk pulls a headphone off his ear and pushes up his glasses. "Sorry, I didn't hear you." Jerk lies. Jerk hates people who interrupt music.
"Yeah, whatever." Commuter looks anxious. "I need to take the 40 to--"
"The 40? 40 doesn't stop here."
"But the sign." Commuter looks upset.
"Sign lies. Ellison and 4th, I'd hurry." No thanks. Rapid footfalls. Muttering.
Jerk puts his headphone back on and waits for the 40. It's time to get to work.