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melvinomann · 6 months
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Heavy Duty Towing Union City, GA
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Get Discount For Out Of State Heavy Towing
"Mann's Heavy Duty Towing Union City, GA: Your Ultimate Solution for Heavy-Duty Towing Needs"
Are you looking for heavy duty towing union city? Did your semi truck fail out on the road? are you trying to get the lowest quote possible?
Life on the road can be tough, especially for those who rely on heavy duty vehicles like semi trucks to make a living. When your big rig suddenly breaks down on the highway or you find yourself in need of heavy duty towing services, you want a reliable and affordable solution. That’s where Mann’s Heavy Duty Towing Union City, GA, comes to the rescue. In this blog post, we’ll explore why Mann’s Heavy Duty Towing Union City should be your first choice when you’re in need of professional assistance for heavy duty towing. Mann’s semi truck towing has the lowest prices.
Heavy Duty Towing Union City
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Get The Lowest Possible Quote
EXPERTISE AND EXPERIENCE
Mann's Heavy Duty Towing has been serving the Union City, GA, area for years, earning a reputation for its exceptional service. When your semi truck grinds to a halt, you need more than just a tow truck; you need a team of experts who understand the complexities of heavy duty towing Union City. Mann's team consists of experienced professionals who know the ins and outs of heavy duty vehicle recovery, ensuring your vehicle is handled with care and expertise. Mann's makes it affordable with cheap semi truck towing in Union City GA.
24/7 EMERGENCY SERVICES
Roadside breakdowns don't follow a schedule, and they can happen at any time of the day or night. Mann's Heavy Duty Towing Union City understands this, and they offer 24/7 emergency towing services. Whether you're stranded on the highway at midnight or dealing with an early morning crisis, you can count on Mann's to be there when you need them the most. We will offer you the most affordable price for semi truck towing in Union City GA.
QUICK RESPONSE TIME
When your livelihood depends on the road, time is of the essence. Mann's Heavy Duty Towing Union City understands the urgency of getting you back on your route. Their rapid response team ensures that help arrives promptly, minimizing downtime and potential financial losses. And we will offer you the lowest possible quote for semi truck towing.
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When your truck breaks down, it's not just a logistical headache; it can also be a financial burden. Mann's Heavy Duty Towing Union City understands this and is committed to providing the best rates in Union City GA. They strive to keep their prices competitive while delivering top-notch service, ensuring you get the most value for your money. That's why we quote the lowest price for semi truck towing in Union City GA. $350 Pickup $6 Per Mile Usd, Zelle, Cash App, Debit Card, Cash
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In Need Of Heavy Duty Towing Union City?
When you’re out on the open road with a semi truck or any other heavy duty vehicle, the last thing you want to encounter is a breakdown. It’s an unfortunate reality that these massive machines sometimes experience unexpected failures, leaving you stranded and in need of heavy duty towing services. If you find yourself in such a situation in Union City, Georgia, look no further than Mann’s Heavy Duty Towing Union City GA. They’re not just any towing service – they’re your best bet for getting back on the road at the most reasonable price.
Why Choose Mann's Heavy Duty Towing Union City?
Affordable Rates
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Professional and Experienced Team
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Trust Worthy
These Are The Commercial Vehicles We Tow
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Buses
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Dump Truck
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Straight/Box Truck
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Semi Truck
We Tow Semi trucks
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Choose Mann's Heavy Duty Towing Union City for the best price
★★★★★5/5
When you're in need of heavy duty towing in Union City, GA, Mann's Heavy Duty Towing Union City is the name to remember. With their reliability, experience, quick response time, professional team, a wide range of services, affordable rates, and 24/7 availability, they are the ultimate solution for all your heavy duty towing needs. And don't forget about our affordable semi truck towing rates.
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Heavy Duty Towing Union City
★★★★★5/5
Don't let a breakdown on the road disrupt your plans or empty your wallet. Call Mann's Heavy Duty Towing Union City for the best price and the assurance of getting back on the road quickly and safely. Your heavy duty vehicle is in good hands with Mann's Heavy Duty Towing Union City, GA.
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Heavy Duty Towing Union City
Mann's Semi Truck Towing Is Here To Serve
Did your semi truck stop in the middle of traffic? Did you call other Tractor trailer heavy towing services and got an expensive quote? Don’t worry, Mann’s semi truck towing service has the lowest possible quotes.
Customer satisfaction is at the core of Mann’s mission. They take pride in their reputation for outstanding service and work hard to maintain it. When you choose Mann’s Semi Truck Towing, you’re choosing a company that cares about your well-being and the successful resolution of your situation.
When you find yourself in need of semi-truck towing in Union City, GA, Mann’s Semi Truck Towing should be your first and only call. With their commitment to prompt, professional, and affordable service, Mann’s has earned its place as a trusted partner for truckers and fleet managers in the area.
Don’t let a breakdown or emergency disrupt your schedule and cost you more than necessary. Contact Mann’s Semi Truck Towing for the peace of mind that comes with knowing you’re in good hands. Choose Mann’s for the lowest possible quote and the highest level of service – because when you’re on the road, they’ve got your back.
MANN'S HEAVY DUTY TOWING UNION CITY, GA
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alimirahtui · 2 years
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BEST GAMING MACHINE ONLINE
The house edge at gaming machines did not depend on how fortunate the players are, it depends on the pre-customized electronic programming utilized. Furthermore, that house edge shifts from one gambling club to another and from geographic area and state to state.
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Try not to be tricked by an announcement that says "Our openings pay close to 100%" in light of the fact that that just relates to few machines, not the club's general house edge. All video gambling machines (counting poker) utilize a Random Numb er Generator to give precise chances to the player and the house.
The quantity of winning hands (images) in any program is numerically demonstrated before the openings hit the gaming floor, and keeping in mind that the chances differ for every player (since this truly is betting), generally, the expected house edge will ultimately be accomplished.
The House Edge at Slots
Each gaming ward requires all gaming machines to be enlisted and all opening producers should present their programming and math graphs to the state gaming office, for example, the Nevada Gaming Control Board. While the state may just require a base recompense of 86-percent, most video poker and gaming machines pay more. The normal restitution in Nevada is least on penny spaces at around 90%. Dollar openings and a few Deuces-Wild poker machines have the most elevated compensation at almost 99-percent.
Obviously on the grounds that a machine has a recompense of close to 100% doesn't mean you will win back $99 for each $100 you play through the machine. That recompense sum is a normal. Throughout an evening of betting, you could lose $500 or win $5,000. That is the excellence of the bet, correct? Furthermore, the gambling club doesn't mind regardless, in light of the fact that they win a normal of anything their home edge is throughout the span of the month.
How does that 99-percent function for you? Beside the promising and less promising times of big stakes and droughts, your diversion dollar will be founded on how lengthy you play. Assuming you play a machine that takes $3 per twist and you pull the handle 10-times 60 minutes, you are playing $3 x 10 x 60 = $1,800 in real life. At 99-percent house edge, your play costs $18 60 minutes. An evenings you'll return home prepared to kick the divider, and different evenings you be singing a blissful tune since you hit a bonanza and skated out with hundreds. That is betting.
Play Within Your Means 에볼루션게이밍
When in doubt, the higher section gambling machines have a more prominent generally compensation rate that the lower ones. That is incredible for those with a sound bankroll, yet you'll have to play the games that offer you the best value for the money. The most exceedingly awful thing a player can do is to play any game for more cash than they can bear to lose or at a higher category than their bankroll will deal with.
Another thought is ensuring you can fit the bill for any reward screen or Royal Flush result. Assuming you need to wile away the hours playing a solitary nickel in a machine, that is incredible. Appreciate. You won't win or lose a lot and you'll likely return home more joyful than most players. Yet, your play accompanies a catch!
That catch is that the house edge accommodated each machine incorporates the huge big stakes (like a Royal Flush), and assuming you play beneath the base to arrive at the reward screen, the house edge is a lot higher! You will not lose a lot, yet you won't ever win in excess of a few dollars.
The Best Option
The most ideal choice is to play the games you appreciate most, and ensure you read the Help Screen so you know the number of credits it takes to fit the bill for at minimum the least moderate big stake and the reward screen (or Royal Flush at video poker). As a sporting player, your first objective is to have a good time. Assuming that you just visit the club infrequently the general recompense of the machine won't make a big deal about a distinction. In the event that you visit consistently, ensure you join the Player's Club and play inside your means!
Gaming machines with colossal superior quality screens, themed around mainstream society staples, for example, "The Voice" and religion exemplary films, for example, "The Goonies" allure to bystanders at club around the country to motivate them to pause and play.
A distant memory are the games with wrench handles and turning brings that let out rewards in real thumping coins, supplanted by those with the most recent gaming innovation and PC associated big stakes on gambling club floors.
Presently, gambling machine makers are answering an advancing crowd that is more youthful, more brand steadfast and, at times, more educated. They're likewise expecting ways the novel Covid pandemic might have changed shopper conduct.
These are five patterns producers think will grab hold in the business:
1. Making case like spaces
The pandemic constrained club to social distance players at gambling machines whether the games were fanned out genuinely or units were switched off to make division. A few customers have become accustomed to that, said Rob Bone, VP of Tables, Utilities and Electronic Table Games for Scientific Games Corporation.
"I believe it's additionally sort of intensified the player's craving for more closeness and to have a space that is their own where they don't feel scared and they can connect with and escape at their own circumspection," he said.
Bone said that is prodded organizations, for example, Scientific Games to contemplate how to convey that a gambling machine will be a close "business class"- like insight to clients. That could mean machines with individual signage instead of a give hanging up a bank of bunched machines or table games or bended showcases that cause the player to feel like they're wrapped in the game.
Bone involved Scientific Games' Kascada bureau for instance, saying the equipment goes far to help making an encounter that secures in the player in. It includes a 43″ bended presentation and sound bar that encompasses the player in the game's sound impacts.
2. Getting a more youthful crowd
Bone said gambling clubs his organization has worked with have seen a convergence of more youthful, less-experienced space players as of late and that has been prodded by that gathering needing to escape the house in the midst of the pandemic.
He said the gaming business is hoping to track down ways of clutching that crowd, which he said is considerably more educated, values brand unwaveringness and searches out gamification.
"We're continuously going to make games that are designed for experienced, eager players, yet I think there is this pattern where there's this new player," he said. "What is it that they need and how would we follow through on an improvement procedure that keeps them connected so when things standardize, they view at the gambling club as a reasonable type of diversion rather than simply an option while we're in this lockdown."
A portion of the current gaming floor tech that this more youthful age of player has shown an interest in incorporate Kyber, Scientific Game's expanded reality electronic table game that utilizes a laser projector to make rewards that are projected onto a tabletop and its Quartz Hybrid electronic table game terminal, which has a cell phone like showcase pointed toward making gaming more clear.
3. Mainstream society is the best
The pattern of theming gaming machines around well known motion pictures or TV shows isn't going anyplace, said Jon Hanlin, senior VP of business procedure for gaming organization Aristocrat.
His organization is attempting to close the hole between an amusement undertaking's delivery and a matching gambling machine for it. Regularly it can require as long as year and a half after a film is delivered for it to get a gambling machine variation. In any case, an impending mainstream society related game the organization is dealing with will be a simultaneous rollout where the imaginative property and the gambling machine will emerge simultaneously. What's more, that is something Aristocrat tries to accomplish a greater amount of from here on out, he said.
"We feel like we must test existing known limits, we must advance the player experience, so for a player to have the option to watch a film or a TV show at home or in a cinema and afterward quickly leave that cinema and go play it on a gambling machine is a thrilling encounter for us," he said.
4. The ascent of YouTube
Space players have a vastly improved comprehension of gaming machines and their mechanics than they have before, Hanlin said.
Opening players have a vastly improved comprehension of gaming machines, Hanlin said. Among the justifications for why? Youtube, where characters have made a great many recordings flaunting games and testing out their extra adjusts.
Hanlin said expecting to have a heartbeat on opening bloggers and YouTubers was incomprehensible five years prior for producers.
"Yet, these days there is a groundswell of players out there who know the various producers, who know the vital mechanics in every one of the games and who have sort of developed their insight into the games," he said.
They additionally perceive the marking of different gaming machine producers.
"Individuals realize Aristocrat games," he said. "They have a developed assumption and we need to convey to that."
Yet, Aristocrat has likewise seized on the natural promoting. Whenever it delivered its new game Cashman Bingo in northern Nevada toward the end of last year, the game immediately appeared in YouTube recordings, which Aristocrat shared on its social channels to scrounge up help.
"We could lift that in that field and get more player-based request," he said.
5. Leave the money at home
Credit only innovation for opening play is an innovation that different gaming organizations are creating.
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Among them is IGT, which has a Resort Wallet include in which individuals load cash onto a record that can be gotten to through an application on their telephone when at a club.
There are an assortment of ways that they can stack assets into their record, including paying a clerk at an assigned area inside the club or moving assets electronically through their ledger, charge card or credit utilizing the associated IGTPay highlight.
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dayblalock20 · 2 years
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eromart · 4 years
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Total Value Cash and Currency Counting Machines Suppliers in KARUR-
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myherowritings · 3 years
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PART 1. A VERY WELL-DESERVED TIP
SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.
PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader
WORD COUNT. 2.0k
GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut
WARNINGS. none in this chapter
A/N. my brief work as a barista is finally paying off. i suffered at sbux all to write this fic ✌︎('ω'✌︎ ) LMAOOO i frl had so much fun writing this and i’m very excited to share the next parts ;) i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i do!! xx sof
SERIES MASTERLIST
© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.
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You were not looking forward to your new work schedule for the next month. 
The employee who usually came in for opening shifts at four in the morning gave her two weeks notice...two weeks ago. And since you had your availability open (you knew you should’ve blocked it off and said you had morning class), your manager asked you to fill her place. 
The night before your first—of many—morning shifts, you tried tricking yourself into thinking it was a good idea. And it almost worked! Sort of. 
You told yourself waking up early when the sun rose worked with your body’s natural circadian rhythm and this experience may adjust your sleep schedule for a healthier one in the long run. Better health and wellbeing and lower risks of cardiovascular disease. Or something. You weren’t too sure exactly; you never paid much attention in biology but it sounded like something you’d find in a textbook, right?
When you arrived on your first day, the morning shift was just as hectic and chaotic as you expected. People in business suits with name brand bluetooth earphones in their ears and the latest new smartphone in their hand filled the shop and waited for their online order. It was as if they wanted the least amount of social interaction possible, which would be fine if being able to make connections with customers wasn’t the most interesting part about being a barista. 
Although the cafe you worked at was a small business who actually (tried) to pay their employees fairly and wasn’t a purely money hungry franchise like the certain green siren, it surprisingly had gained enough traction in the area to rival one of those cheap, chain stores. 
Good for the business, bad for sleepy workers who could barely function in the mornings.
But you enjoyed working here and the owners were kind, so you did your best to shove away the tiredness and put a bright and cheery smile on your face. The customers were grumpier than you were used to, but who wouldn’t be a little ill-mannered having to go to work at 5 a.m. and probably not leaving until 6 p.m. or later because of bosses who overworked them? Trying to get them their morning coffee with an amiable attitude to start off their day right was something you were more than happy to do. 
It was too bad barely any of them gave you the time of day. They just wanted to get their caffeine and leave with as little human interaction as possible. It was understandable, of course, but it wasn’t the lively cafe environment you were used to during later shifts. You sighed, hoping the atmosphere would be friendlier when it wasn’t a major rush hour. 
“Hi! I can help the next person in line,” you called for the twentieth time this hour. When they moved forward towards the cash register, you gave them a smile. “Good morning. I hope your day has been going well!”
“It’s been okay, thank you. And yours?”
Your eyes widened in surprise and you almost sputtered over thin air. Someone who actually replied back to what you said and asked about you in return? Even if the intent was a courtesy conversation that was meant to be quick and brief, the sentiment was there—the upholding of the values of common courtesy and human decency. Something too many people seemed to lack. 
“I’m good as well! A little tired but what’s to be expected a quarter ‘til 6 a.m.?” you said with a laugh. “Thank you for asking.”
The customer gave a small smile in return and you internally celebrated for finally seeing your first pleasant expression this morning. “Must be even more tiring dealing with all these people. Doesn’t seem easy. I have to commend you for it.”
He was a tall, handsome man with a pretty face, soft-looking hair, and genuinely nice? There was no way this was real; you had to be dreaming. 
You twiddled with the pen in your hands, taken aback and mildly embarrassed by the praise. “Just doing my job,” you said with a bashful look. “Thank you, though.” You cleared your throat, not wanting to hold the line up for too long, even if the customer was one you would rather keep talking to than the others. “Now, what can I get started for you today?”
“Right. Can I get a flat white in the medium size?��� 
“Of course.” You typed in his order into the register before asking, “And is there anything else I can get for you? Like a pastry? Today we have some freshly baked cheese danishes that are really yummy if you’d like to try!” 
He thought for a while before shrugging. You weren’t sure if it was your eyes playing tricks on you or he actually had an amused look on his face. “Sure, I’ll take a couple dozen of those as well.” 
“A couple dozen—?” your voice faltered. The suggestion of a fresh pastry was one you made to almost every customer, though most turned it down on the spot. 
The cafe had a little weekly competition between workers to see who could sell the most pastries in the week and the one who sold most got...well, a free pastry and bragging rights. Admittedly, it wasn’t much, but nothing revved up sales like friendly rivalries. An order of a couple dozen was sure to land you in the top spot this week! Still, you had to make sure he meant it. You’d feel bad if he was just spending all his hard-earned office work money because he was trying to be courteous. (Or at least, you assumed he was some office employee.) 
You cautiously asked, “Are you sure?”
Either your eyes were playing tricks on you yet again, or the look of amusement on his face grew even more than before as he said, “I’m sure. One medium flat white and, say, three dozen boxes of cheese danishes, please.” 
“C-Coming right up!” you said, quickly entering his order and celebrating your free end-of-the-week pastry in advance. “That will be $42.81. Would that be card or cash?” 
“Card.” He pulled out a sleek, black card with gold detailings on it and you never knew you could be sexually attracted to a credit card until now. 
“Perfect! Go ahead and swipe, insert, or scan your card now. In the meantime, can I get a name for your order please?” 
He scanned his card over the machine before looking back up at you. “It’s To— Ah, Shouto.” 
“Shouto?” you asked in confirmation. You assumed it wasn’t ‘Toahshouto’. That sounded too much like the abbreviation used to remember how to find sine, cosine, and tangent.
“Yeah. Shouto.” 
You smiled. “Well, Shouto, your order will be ready in a few minutes. Please wait over to your right to pick it up!”
He nodded. 
“It was nice meeting you!” you called, waving goodbye. “I hope you have a good rest of your day.”
“Thank you,” he glanced at your nametag, “Y/N.” 
Oh, how nice it felt to be treated like a human by a customer and have them actually address your name— And not to say it in a condescending way either. 
“Do individual baristas get to keep the tips here?”
You blinked, feeling your face warm up slightly. “We do, actually.” One of your favorite parts of the job, you had to admit. 
“Glad to hear.” Shouto pulled out some crisp-looking bills from his wallet and placed one in your hand that said ‘100’ to you. “Thank you for your kind service, Y/N.” 
“Wha—” Your eyes widened. You were expecting something along the line of three dollars. Maybe five at most. But a hundred? By the time you had processed what had happened he was walking away from the cash register. “Wait— Shouto...sir! I think you accidentally gave me the wrong amount.” 
He shook his head, only briefly turning back to face you. “Nope. It’s for you,” he said simply. “I’m looking forward to the cheese danishes.” 
His words left you stunned, but the next customer in line tapped their foot impatiently, signaling it was now time for you to take their order. You hoped the line died down before Shouto left the cafe so you could return the tip, but seeing as how the queue almost extended out the door, you had the sinking feeling that wouldn’t be a possibility. 
“Hello, I can take the next customer in line!” you recited cheerfully, mind still occupied by thoughts of your last encounter. 
The next few orders went along uneventfully (though you did manage to sell two more cheese danishes) and by the time Shouto got his coffee and pastry boxes, you still had a handful more customers to get through. 
“Pardon me real quick,” you said apologetically to the woman in front of you. “Please give me one moment?” 
She graced you with a nod and you thanked the stars above for an understanding patron. 
“Wait— Excuse me, sir!” You waved in Shouto’s direction before he could exit the cafe. He glanced at you curiously but walked over. In a hushed voice, you said, “I really appreciate the tip, but there’s no way I could accept this much money from you!” 
For the first time today, you say the hints of a frown on his face. “You cannot?” 
“No! $100 is a lot! You already bought $40 worth of cheese danish pastries— Are you sure you meant to give that big of a tip?”
“Of course.” He took a sip of his coffee with a satisfied hum. “You getting up at such an early hour to take people’s orders with a kind attitude isn’t easy. Plus, trying to build rapport with each of them all while keeping the interacting swift is a difficult task itself. And it’s probably worth more than your current pay, the $100 tip, and then some.” 
You blinked, stunned by his words. This man kept surprising you so many times in just one morning. 
“I find it ridiculous how certain occupations are paid an ungodly amount more than others, especially when a lot of it comes from privileges you were born into.” Shouto seemed to mumble the last bit to himself, but you were still able to understand what he said. “It’s bullshit.” Before you could respond, he recollected himself. “Eat the rich, right? All that to say, please accept the tip. You deserve it. And I promise it’s of no detriment to me, so please don’t feel bad.”
Seeing the determined look on his face, you couldn’t help but stare at him before nodding. He didn’t say anything you didn’t already believe yourself, and if someone really wanted to give you $100, you weren’t going to fight them on it. Think of all the dumplings you could buy, you told yourself.
“T-Thank you then.” You gingerly placed the folded bill back into your pants pocket. “I think that was really insightful of you and I’m very grateful.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled before glancing towards the exit. “I’m running a bit late for work now, so I should be going. Have a good day, Y/N.”
“You too, Shouto. And… Thank you again!”
With a glowing expression on your face, you walked back to the cash register ready to face the day and talk to more lovely customers!
“Hey, little barista!” a gruff voice called from the line, snapping you out of your stupor. “Hurry it up already before you force me to complain to your manager.” 
You internally sighed. You understood they were in a rush, but they still had no right to be that rude. 
“Can you even hear me? Or are you too incompetent?”
Cue another internal sigh. 
Yeah, okay. Maybe you did deserve this $100 tip.
Regardless of the rude customers that may have come in, at least you had your thoughts of a cute, kind businessman who went by the name of Shouto to get you through your shift. And you could only hope you’d be able to see him again.
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a/n: the end of part one folks!! oh what i’d give to have gotten a tip like this when i worked as a barista BAHAHA only in my dreams. i hope you enjoyed this little intro part and are excited for what’s to come !! :3
what to expect in the next part:
~maybe~ y/n will see shouto again and,,perhaps,,get more tips from him idk who knows 
old lady imparts some...helpful(?) advice 
we briefly get to see shouto’s pov! ;D
3K notes · View notes
seymour-butz-stuff · 3 years
Link
A real estate agent might call our apartment in the Montrose neighborhood of Houston cozy with a sun-drenched bedroom. The reality is that it’s a small, cheap, window-heavy garage conversion. But it’s ours. We’ve filled it with art, good food, books, craft supplies, so many plants, dog toys. It’s our home. Now it makes my skin crawl, a reminder of how fragile these comforts often are.
There are blankets and rugs on the floors to protect feet and paws from the cold wood. There’s a pile of extra coats and sweatshirts in one corner. My girlfriend and I draped a sheet over our headboard so we wouldn’t have to touch the freezing metal and hung a camping lantern from our out-of-commission ceiling fan. Most of the apartment outside the bedroom was made useless, lost to the cold. We each keep a pile on our nightstand—a hat, gloves, and headlamp—in case we need to get up in the middle of the night and venture outside the bubble of precious heat we’ve created. None of this was comfortable, but it wasn’t deadly. At least not for us.
In Harris County, which houses Houston, at least 4 people are dead from hypothermia as ice and snow covered the streets and temperatures plummeted dangerously low. Counting the surrounding counties, at least 30 people are dead from weather-related incidents, The Washington Post reported on Thursday night. That number is sure to grow as we get a fuller account of the destruction. With each new death, Texans were reminded that asking for the basics was out of bounds. We want our lights to turn on, we want our homes to be habitable, we want our faucets to give us safe water.
The state turned away from us; we turned toward each other. Mutual aid funds populated every major metro area in Texas, giving away money for hotel rooms, food, gas, and the massive energy bills that will follow the disaster—no questions asked. Volunteers with donated water and all-wheel drive helped our elderly, unhoused, and disabled neighbors move to safer places. These groups—Houston’s alone has distributed more than $22,000 to date—became a lifeline.
It’s a beautiful thing born of an ugly thing. We shouldn’t have to donate money to keep us alive because the government is incapable of or indifferent to helping us. But every once in a while, you can see the indifference reveal a deeper contempt. Then-Colorado City Mayor Tim Boyd, in a perfect marriage of content and medium, wrote on Facebook that, “No one owes you are [sic] your family anything; nor is it the local government’s responsibility to support you during trying times like this! … The City and County, along with power providers or any other service owes you NOTHING!.”
Boyd started his tirade with, “Let me hurt some feelings while I have a minute!!” It’s a succinct enough expression of the modern Texas Republican Party’s beliefs as any I’ve seen. They see policies as a way of exacting pain on people they despise. When their cruelty is spelled out plainly, you’re the one who is too sensitive. They could never be the ones in the wrong. The ability to stand by that position is Trumpian, but predated Trump: Never apologize and never retreat.
The reality of a changing climate is that we will only become more reliant on each other, and we must decide what kind of world we’d like to live in as it burns—or freezes. In an interview with Texas Monthly, energy consultant and UT Austin research assistant in smart grid and bulk electricity systems Joshua Rhodes said while it’s theoretically possible that we might have avoided this week’s energy crisis, there’s also tangible reason why it happened: powerful people made choices.  
“Could we have built a grid that would have fared better during this time? Of course we could have. But we could also build a car that could survive every crash you could possibly throw at it, but it would be very expensive and not many people would probably be able to afford it,” he explained. “At some point we do a cost-benefit analysis of how much risk we are willing to take. We have never had weather like this thrown at us, so it’s not surprising to me that we don’t have infrastructure that can support it.”
Rhodes continued, “We may decide now as a society that we do, but that’s a conversation we’re going to have to have with our collective self, if you will.”
But until such a time comes—and with the knowledge that the state would not provide aid to those who desperately need it—we planned for the storm to the best of our ability. My girlfriend and I were lucky: We had a well-stocked hurricane kit, snow pants from some camping trips we’d taken, more than enough blankets and coats, non-perishable foods, cash, and every lidded pot filled with water while we had water pressure. We only lost power for 36-hours, and it was after Monday—which was when it got down to 14 degrees.
But your own good luck stops mattering after a while, as your anxiety about your loved ones takes over. My grandparents, both in their 80s, lost power on Monday morning and spent the night huddled in layers in one room of their house. They would continue to do so for the next two days. Those days felt frantic. My texts to my abuela would go through green instead of the usual blue because her phone was off. I had no idea when it would turn back on; I just had to pray.
The closest warming shelter to my grandparents didn’t have transport for the elderly and information felt hard to come by—I still couldn’t figure out if they were open overnight. Joel Osteen had opened his megachurch, but getting them there would require freeway travel, which was itself extremely dangerous.
My parents live just outside of Dallas, near the airport, about five hours north of Houston. North Texas was being hit with much of the same conditions as the south, but was closer to the cold eye of the storm. They’re older, both diabetic. My mother is recovering from surgery. They set themselves up in their living room, next to the fireplace. They live at the base of a valley—all hills, nothing flat. Leaving could be deadly. Maybe they could make it to the Hyatt connected to DFW, but again that required freeway travel. I felt paralyzed: Inaction was the safest course of action.
It was hard to know what to do. We only had access to social media flooded with unverified reporting; checking the homepages of The Houston Chronicle, The Dallas Morning News, and the Texas Tribune grounded us. (It also taught me that I need a solar or hand-crank radio.) Instagram became surprisingly helpful; Austin Fox affiliate morning anchor Leslie Rangel had an incredible rundown of the terrible conditions in central Texas. Chronicle reporters filed an impressive liveblog, seemingly answering every question we had about our pipes and when the weather would let up. Despite trying our best to conserve energy on our phones, it was our only lifeline and our battery banks became precious.
By week’s end, everyone in my family had their power back. Things were thawing. We had been spared. Spared by the fact of enough disposable income to buy those hurricane supplies. By the timing of our power outage. By bodies that were able to carry us down stairs and easily move in the cold. By jobs that shut down for two days and let us focus on surviving.
Not everyone had luck on their side. Texans were already hurting because of the pandemic. At least 41,000 people filed unemployed due to Covid-19 this week. Houston only passed an eviction grace period this week. Plus, to state the obvious, homes in Houston and along the Gulf shores are not meant to protect from this type of winter weather. Even if you were only marginally affected by the pandemic, but lost power in Galveston, you were in real danger.
If I sit with this governmental abandonment too long, it makes me seethe with rage. I feel it radiate at Ted Cruz leaving us for Cancún and John Cornyn’s culture war bullshit when power was already out and Rick Perry saying people would want longer blackouts to stop regulation or Greg Abbott blaming wind power and the not-enacted Green New Deal for the blackouts. I feel this rage at the long line of Republican governors and legislators who value markets over human life.
People across my state are dead. They deserve the truth to be told about their deaths. Their government did not adequately prepare them for a climate-change disaster. Their government did not adequately prepare itself for this climate-change disaster. And there will be more storms. We’ve seen disasters that the state has turned away from, never learned anything like a lesson from the loss of life or the scale of suffering. What’s more upsetting is that Texans who have lived through climate disasters support solutions. In 2020, the University of Houston found that three years after Hurricane Harvey, people whose homes were devastated by the 50-plus inches of rain dumped on southeast Texas overwhelmingly support flood mitigation efforts, but only 52 percent are “somewhat” or “very confident” in local officials to prevent future flooding trauma. Rick Perry doesn’t know anything about his state.
The most frightening part of the experience was coming out from the fog only to realize that the machine to forget was well oiled and running. As the climate crisis worsens, we will continue to see these “500-year” weather events. What happened this week was extraordinary. It was a catastrophe. How we were treated this week was unacceptable. How Texans were treated during Hurricane Harvey was unacceptable— was also a catastrophe. How Puerto Ricans were treated during Maria was unacceptable—another catastrophe. But our political system is built around forgetting, of powerful people who would like us to turn away from the things we’ve lived through—trapped in our homes, shivering—and turn away from each other. I keep hearing that I’m living through extraordinary times, and I guess that’s true. But we know this won’t stay extraordinary for long.
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hlupdate · 4 years
Link
Here he comes, one of the planet’s most conspicuous young men, stepping out of the London drizzle and into a dusty suburban pub. If there was an old vinyl record player in the place it would scratch quiet. Instead, the two-dozen punters turn hushed and intent, as if a unicorn has just trotted in off the street, and nobody wants to scare it off. “That’s frickin’ Harry frickin’ Styles,” whispers a young man at the bar, “in this pub.” The pop star is asked what he wants to drink and in a voice already inclined to undertones, quietly orders a cup of tea.
A former teen star who is now 25, a happier and rockier solo artist since his boyband One Direction split a few years ago, Styles has hidden himself inside a large, swamp-green parka. He’s tall, around the 6ft mark, and carries himself with a slight stoop. If Styles could only do something about his appearance from the neck up (elfin brow, wide Joker smile, a face that’s recognisable across multiple continents) you sense he could drink in pubs like this anonymously enough. As it is, cover blown, he removes the parka. A woolly jumper beneath has a picture of the planet Saturn on it. Maybe they’ve heard of Styles there, too.
We take a seat in the corner. On nearby tables, conversations start to sputter as people try to keep their own talk ticking along on autopilot while straining to hear what Styles says. I ask him about the sheer strangeness of this and other aspects of fame. Full stadiums, swooning admirers, an excess of opportunity and cash. Why isn’t Styles an absolute ordeal of a human being by now? Keith Richards, at a comparable stage, imagined himself the pirate leader of a travelling nation-state, unbound by international law. Elton John was on vast amounts of cocaine. Meanwhile, here’s Harry, known in the music industry as a bit of a freak, medically, having maintained abnormally high levels of civility in his system. 
Styles tilts his head, flattered. There are others, he promises. “People who are successful, and still nice. It’s when you meet the people who are successful and aren’t nice, you think: What’s yer excuse? Cos I’ve met the other sort.”
Styles read Keith Richards’ autobiography a while back, and he recently finished Elton’s, too. (“Soooo much cocaine,” he marvels.) We talk for a bit about whether extreme dissolute behaviour and artistic greatness go hand in hand. Styles, who has just released his second solo album, Fine Line, the penultimate track of which is called Treat People With Kindness, has to hope not. “I just don’t think you need to be a dick to be a good artist. But, then, there are also a lot of good artists who are dicks. So. Hmm. Maybe I need to start scaring babies in supermarkets?” 
A couple of lads hustle over to offer drinks. A photo is requested; they say they’ll wait. I’m weirdly anxious about Styles’s phone, which is slung on the table in front of him. What must be the black-market value of that thing? If fans were to get hold of it, would they want to open Styles’s music app first, to listen to tracks from the new album, or rush to see his messages and calls, to find out who Styles has been flirting with late at night? The interest in his music has always run at a ratio of about 50/50 with the interest in who he is dating.
It’s a ratio Styles tries to adjust in favour of the music by being vague about his ex-partners, real and rumoured (Taylor Swift, Kendall Jenner, Parisian model Camille Rowe), diverting to discuss his songs about failed relationships. A year ago, when Styles was floating around near this pub in north London, where he lives, and California, where he tends to record, looking for inspiration for the new album, his close friend Tom Hull told him: “Just date amazing women, or men, or whatever, who are going to fuck you up… Let it affect you and write songs about it.” 
Styles, who writes in collaboration with Hull and producer Tyler Johnson, sounds as if he took the advice. The new album, Fine Line, is at its best when capturing late-hours moments, drunk calls, “wandering hands”, kitchen snogs. A golden-haired lover recurs. There are up tracks, down tracks, some with the trippy delirium of harpsichord-era Stones, others with the angsty Britpop swell of strings. While I listened, I couldn’t help scribbling down names, possible subjects. On the lyric “There’s a piece of you in how I dress” I wrote: maybe Kendall? In a song about a lover “way too bright for me”: surely Taylor.
Styles says he keeps to a general rule: write what comes and don’t think about it too much afterwards. The only time he worries about an individual lyric is if it risks putting an ex in a difficult position. “If a song’s about someone, is that fine? Or is that gonna get annoying for them, if people try to decipher it?” Has he ever got that judgment call wrong and taken a bollocking from an angry ex? Styles raises an eyebrow. “Maybe ask me in a month.” 
I quiz him on something I’ve often wondered about. Why are the very famous so inclined to hook up with the very famous? From the outside it looks twice the hassle, with twice the odds of ending badly. “Don’t we all do that, though?” Styles asks. “Go into things that feel relatively doomed from the start?” I ask him why he doesn’t date normals. He seems tickled: “Um. I mean, I do. I have a private life. You just don’t know about it.” 
Styles doesn’t particularly like being asked about his love life, but is amused all the same, as he is about most things. When I ask about the logistics of someone as well known as him dating someone anonymous (“Do you need to give them, like, some sort of primer?”), Styles snorts with laughter. 
“Uh-h-h. Like any conversation, I guess, it’s easier if you’re honest. But I try to let it come up when it comes up. Cos that’s a weird thing to talk about, y’know? If you’ve just started seeing someone, and you’re, like: [he adopts a throaty, mission-briefing voice] So! This is what’s gonna happen!” Styles holds out his hands: no, ta. “I don’t wanna have that conversation, man. It would be fucking weird.” 
And not very sexy, I say.
“Not sexy,” Styles says, “no.”
A quick aside about his accent, which is hard to capture in print. (“Nat sexy, no.”) After a workout in a hotel gym recently, Styles says he was taken aback (“taken abeck”) to be asked by a stranger whether he was speaking in a fake voice. He was appalled. But after so long crossing borders and time zones, living and working between England and the US, the accent has undergone a jazzy remix, and tends to get farthest from its Cheshire roots when he’s around strangers. Once Styles begins to get comfortable in the pub, the flatter, no-nonsense sounds of his youth return. Nowpe he says, for nope. Fook, for fuck.
“What the fook are they?” This was the response of his childhood pals, he remembers, back in the village of Holmes Chapel, when little Harry had the gumption to show up in the playground wearing Chelsea boots instead of the approved chunky trainers. Styles’s parents had separated when he was very young, but there is no origin-story trauma: he has always stayed close to both. His mother, Anne, would praise his singing voice in the car, and when Styles was 16 it was agreed he could audition for a singing contest on TV.
“The craziest part about the whole X Factor thing,” says Styles, who auditioned for the ITV reality show in 2010, “is that it’s so instant. The day before, you’ve never been on telly. Then suddenly…” Suddenly you’re a piece of national property. “You don’t think at the time, ‘Oh, maybe I should keep some of my personal stuff back for myself.’ Partly because, if you’re a 16-year-old who does that, you look like a jumped-up little shit. Can you imagine? ‘Sorry, actually, I’d rather not comment…’ You don’t know what to be protective of.”
By the winter of 2010, Styles was a fan favourite, a key member of One Direction, a five-piece that enjoyed enormous national exposure and gathered millions of fans before any music had been released. Cameras filmed every part of their rise. There wasn’t any time in the dark to practise, test things out, mentally brace. “We didn’t get to dip in a toe,” Styles says. “But, listen, I was a kid, all I knew was: I didn’t have to go to school any more. I thought it was fucking great.” He remembers having a lot of fun, and being well taken care of. He jokes: “Maybe it’s something I’ll have to deal with a bit later. When I wake up in my 40s and think: Arrrggh.”
In February 2012, One Direction were feted at the Brit Awards, hours before they were due to fly to the US for the first time. On TV that night they looked young, silly, chuffed – on the precipice of something huge, and with no clue at all. Their subsequent wonder-run (five platinum albums, four world tours) had its foundations in their ridiculous popularity in the States. Right away, Styles remembers, “We were fuelling a machine. Keeping the fire going.” He remembers it as a stimulating time; maybe overstimulating. “Coming out of it, when the band stopped, I realised that the thing I’d been missing, because it was all so fast paced, was human connection.”
I first met Styles in 2014, around the time the lack of human connection was starting to bite. One Direction were promoting their penultimate album and I’d been commissioned to write about themthe Guardian. Management felt the boys were so exhausted that my minutes in their presence had to be strictly counted. Inside a circle of cripplingly hot lights, while someone ran the stopwatch, we interacted as humanly as we could.
I remember how jaded the best singer in the group, Zayn Malik, seemed. (Malik was weeks away from quitting.) I also remember how flattered and bewildered the others were to be asked a few grownup questions – and not what Louis Tomlinson would later describe to me as “who’s-your-favourite-superhero… all that shit”. Styles was watchful and quiet that day. By total chance, a week later, we were in the same London cafe and he tapped my shoulder. He was having lunch with friends. “Will ya join us?” 
t struck me as a quietly classy move. I was fascinated to see him interact with mates he’d chosen for himself. Styles was dry and funny, older than his years. After lunch we said the usual things about keeping in touch, and followed each other on Twitter. I kept an eye on his updates, about leaving One Direction, releasing an impressive, self-titled debut album in 2017, playing for 36,000 people in Madison Square Garden in New York, acting in Christopher Nolan’s Oscar-nominated war movie Dunkirk. Meanwhile, I did my best to manage the mess that had been made of my own account after Styles’s Twitter follow ignited a small explosion of teenage longing in my mentions. For at least a year I received weekly, sometimes daily, pleas from people who wanted messages conveyed to “H”. Still now, every few days, fans in America, Asia and Europe follow me to “see what H sees” in their timeline. 
He has around 50 million social media followers, and with that comes the ability to ripple the internet like somebody airing a bedsheet. I’ve noticed, though, how rarely Styles directs people to support specific causes, last doing so in 2018, when he encouraged people to join a march against gun violence. Why don’t you use your influence more, I ask? “Because of dilution. Because I’d prefer, when I say something, for people to think I mean it.” He runs his fingertips across the table. “To be honest, I’m still searching for that one thing, y’know. Something I can really stand up for, and get behind, and be like: This Is My Life Fight. There’s a power to doing the one thing. You want your whole weight behind it.”
It’s one of the things that sets Styles apart, the way he puts his whole weight behind the different aspects of this strange job. If you watch footage of him as a guest host on Saturday Night Live last month, Styles plunges in, fully inhabiting the silliness of every sketch. He has good songs in his repertoire (2017’s ballad Sign Of The Times stands out), and would probably admit to some middling songs that attest to his relative inexperience as a writer. But whichever of his songs Styles performs, he goes all-in, trusting that his zest and energy will hold an audience’s attention. He approaches this interview in roughly the same spirit, not enjoying every question, fidgeting, pleading for clemency once or twice, but giving everything due consideration.
I bring up something Styles joked about earlier: the possibility of waking up in his 40s with deferred mental health problems.
“Mm,” he says
Have you thought about therapy, I ask, to get ahead of that?
“I go,” he says. “Not every week. But whenever I feel I need it. For a really long time I didn’t try therapy, because I wanted to be the guy who could say: ‘I don’t need it.’ Now I realise I was only getting in my own way.” He shrugs. “It helps.”
Lately he’s been reading a lot (Lisa Taddeo’s Three Women stood out). He’s watched a lot of Netflix (crime thrillers and music docs). He recently cried through Slave Play on Broadway. I sense in Styles, at 25, a pent-up undergraduate hunger, maybe a desire to make up for lost time. “I’ve definitely been wanting to learn stuff, try stuff,” he says. “Things I didn’t grow up around. Things I’d always been a little bit sceptical about. Like therapy, like meditation. All I need to hear is someone saying, ‘Apparently, it’s amazing’, and I’ll try it. When I was in Los Angeles once, I heard about juice cleanses. I thought, yeah, I’ll do a juice cleanse.”
How messy were the results?
“You mean…?” Styles raises an eyebrow, recalling the poos. “They were all right. I was just hungry. And bored.”
One notable feature of Styles’s solo career has been his headlong embrace of unconventional clothing. A 2017-18 tour could have been sponsored by the Dulux colour wheel: mustard tones in Sydney, shocking pink in Dallas. In a more serious sense, some of Styles’s choices have fed into an important political discussion about gendered fashion. In May, as a co-host at the Met Gala in New York, he stepped out in a sheer blouse and a pearl earring. One evening’s work challenged a lot of stubborn preconceptions about who gets to wear what.
He says: “What women wear. What men wear. For me it’s not a question of that. If I see a nice shirt and get told, ‘But it’s for ladies.’ I think: ‘Okaaaay? Doesn’t make me want to wear it less though.’ I think the moment you feel more comfortable with yourself, it all becomes a lot easier.”
What do you mean, I ask?
Styles is leaning forward, hands folded around his cup of tea. “A part of it was having, like, a big moment of self-reflection. And self-acceptance.” He has a habit, when he’s made a definitive statement, of raising his chin and nodding a little, as if to decide whether he still agrees with himself. “I think it’s a very free, and freeing, time. I think people are asking, ‘Why not?’ a lot more. Which excites me. It’s not just clothes where lines have been blurred, it’s going across so many things. I think you can relate it to music, and how genres are blurring…”
Sexuality, too, I say.
“Yep,” says Styles. “Yep.”
There’s a popular perception, I say, that you don’t define as straight. The lyrics to your songs, the clothes you choose to wear, even the sleeve of your new record – all of these things get picked apart for clues that you’re bisexual. Has anyone ever asked you though?
“Um. I guess I haaaaave been asked? But, I dunno. Why?”
You mean, why ask the question?
“Yeah, I think I do mean that. It’s not like I’m sitting on an answer, and protecting it, and holding it back. It’s not a case of: I’m not telling you cos I don’t want to tell you. It’s not: ooh this is mine and it’s not yours.”
What is it then?
“It’s: who cares? Does that make sense? It’s just: who cares?”
I suppose my only question, then, is about the stuff that looks like clue dropping. Because if you don’t want people to care, why hint? Take the album sleeve for Fine Line. With its horizontal pink and blue stripes, a splash of magenta, the design seems to gesture at the trans and bisexual pride flags. Which is great – unless the person behind it happens to be a straight dude, sprinkling LGBTQ crumbs that lead nowhere. Does that make sense?
Styles nods. “Am I sprinkling in nuggets of sexual ambiguity to try and be more interesting? No.” As for the rest, he says, “in terms of how I wanna dress, and what the album sleeve’s gonna be, I tend to make decisions in terms of collaborators I want to work with. I want things to look a certain way. Not because it makes me look gay, or it makes me look straight, or it makes me look bisexual, but because I think it looks cool. And more than that, I dunno, I just think sexuality’s something that’s fun. Honestly? I can’t say I’ve given it any more thought than that.”
In our musty corner of the pub we’ve somehow passed a couple of hours in intense discussion. We’ll lighten up, before Styles heads home, with some chat about clever films (Marriage Story), stupider viral videos (the little boy who’s just learned the word “apparently”), that favourite-superhero stuff that, after all, has its place. He talks about the curious double time scheme of a pop star’s life – those crammed 18-hour days and then the sudden empty off-time when Styles might find himself walking miles across London to buy a book, afterwards congratulating himself: “Well, that’s an hour filled.”
Before we stand up I ask if he’s minded any of my questions.
He pushes out his lips, possibly recalling them one by one, then shakes his head. “What I would say, about the whole being-asked-about-my-sexuality thing – this is a job where you might get asked. And to complain about it, to say you hate it, and still do the job, that’s just silly. You respect that someone’s gonna ask. And you hope that they respect they might not get an answer.”
I tell him I do.
“Cool.”
Styles has to find those lads who wanted a photo. He scoops his phone off the table and flicks his thumb around the screen. Lately, he says, when he messes around on his phone in an idle moment, it’s mostly to look at videos – clips that his friends have sent him, in which their kids sing along to music he’s made. “Never gets old,” Styles says, beaming.
A few years ago, when he emerged from the boyband, blinking, shattered, he set himself three tasks: prioritise friends, learn how to be an adult, achieve a proper balance between the big and the small. Full stadiums, provocative outfits – Styles genuinely loves these things. “But I guess I’ve realised, as well,” he says, “that the coolest things are not always the cool things. Do you know what I mean?” He grabs his parka and his phone and, a little stooped, heads for home.
147 notes · View notes
eromart · 5 years
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