I must admit I was startled. I had not expected to see a gorilla when I left the golf course. And I certainly hadn’t expected to be within 20 feet of one.[ 1] Yet there he was, standing on a street corner in Irvine, swaying rhythmically from side to side, listening to his iPod.
He was holding a large, arrow-shaped yellow sign that said, “Homes for Sale.” At the risk of sounding anthropomorphic, I had the distinct impression he was smiling, despite the stultifying boredom of standing on a street corner for hours on end waggling a large yellow arrow. I assume he was either an illegal gorilla or had fallen on hard times, since this is precisely the kind of work I’m told we need gorillas to do because humans won’t.[ 2]
