The story of my life

So I'm in Chicago in a cab going from O'Hare to some suburban destination (I never really did know where I was). The driver, from Uzbekistan (a first for me), is chatty and asks me what I do for a living. When I tell him, he says, "I don't know what that is. What do you DO?" I answer, "I help people with their problems." Big explosive sigh . . . "Oh, boy, I have problems . . ."