Strokes

I have to make money.I plan on making money by following my passion, art, but I need a lot of money to start off with.The cool raindrops this evening speed up and slow down from time to time, keeping the pouring constant, as I think of part-time jobs I could take that pay pretty well. Waiting for the bus never felt this boring before.Minutes later, I see the bus, a black little rectangle on the road growing bigger and closer. But I don't get on it.I see an ad stuck on the side of the bus (which happens all the time.) and try to read it, though it is drenched and almost torn in the rain now."Tutor Training?" I mutter to myself, trying to make out the words on the Ad. I only see more detail before the driver started honking for me to get on.The ride home, that's what I think about; What on earth is tutor-training? Aren't Tutors trainers themselves? Why do you even need training for that? Then again, my mum used to pay a buttload of money to my tutors in college.One thing's for sure, it can help me make money, and that will help me with art stuff. I add that to my list in my "Goals" journal."Wise choice," My uh...usual bus-mate, you could call her, comments. "Nowadays, 'Trained-Tutors' are highly paid.""I guess, but what should I get trained for? Tutoring high school or college subjects? You know I wouldn't go back there, right?" I chuckle, closing the journal. We don't know each other's names, but we do know each other's traumas. Funny, isn't it?"Well, I heard you can get trained for tutoring other skills, maybe you could choose drawing? Painting? Or even better, designing!" She beams."Maybe so...We'll see."More thoughts about the idea go in and out of my head, but I get the most important one when my bus-mate's about to leave."I don't have the number though." I stop her, hastily, trying to reach her hand before she stands up to get off."Pardon?""The number for the training thing, I-""Here." She hands me a card, with the same ad, but clearer and the number visible. I couldn't make out the guy's face again since the paint or whatever chipped off. "Oh, and one more thing, my niece wanted to train for tutoring singing, but the organizer refused it. Try to slowly persuade the guy for the best." She warns me quietly and gets off at her stop, leaving me alone for the next 10 minutes until I get to mine. Seems like they 'organizer-guy' isn't very nice. Well, I don't think I'm going to have any problems. There was only one person I hated and I'm far, far away from him now. What could go wrong? The rest of the ride home, thoughts of why the dude rejected singing and if he'd accept art bother me, but I'm staying positive.Persuade the guy, huh? Should be easy enough.After all, I have my way with words.