In a candid conversation this week, someone asked me what was the worst part of my job.
I didn’t have to think twice.
I hate being photographed without consent.
And lately, people have been pointing their cameras, phones and video equipment at me, making me feel like some kind of performing monkey, or an animatronic freak show at a theme park.
What bothers me about this is the complete lack of human exchange.
There is absolutely none of the common courtesies of “how are you doing”, “what’s your name”, or even “you sound great” leading up to the very transgressive act of shooting.
And in a flash, I feel ironically both unseen and unheard.
But also just as quickly, I give thanks that I am acknowledged by a spiritual power that has a greater focus than the lens of any guest.