I sped downtown, really early on my bicycle like a maniac along the side of the expressway. Riding the shoulder, peddling like mad, hoping not to be hit by an automobile. Up the incline of a grassy hill instead of a ramp through lightly wooded slopes. The neighborhood by the building was a bit off the beaten track of the downtown area. I arrived with my bicycle and up in the area that seemed to serve as office my so called friend went through a routine with a supposedly beneficent cherubic figure that could have been a relative of the Capone’s. “If I stayed”, he cajoled, “They could get me $4.50 an hour!” “It was a mistake that I ended up here, of course”, he nodded. Here I was thinking that this is where I should be and they started negotiating. “I hope you don’t mind pitchforks and other garden tools”, the other one said, “They make me want to retch.” I didn’t like the tone or the direction his comments seemed to lead nor the obvious shysterism that my presence seemed to inspire. And, despite a healthy amount of ‘bird in the hand’ based sentiment rising within, I struck out to find the place I was supposed to go to work in the first place. Back on the bike peddling down unfamiliar lanes I saw a large overhead doorway that I thought I could cut through as a shortcut. What seemed the possibility of another lane on the building’s side in fact being a mental mirage illusion. A dusty looking worker covered in industrial soot greeted me without challenge. One look at him and I realized that employment here meant getting my best clothes dirty and I ended up in the mammoth cavern of a factory full of oversize machines of goliath proportions. The the vertigo of the height of the ceiling was exceeded by the sheer distance that the building seemed to run down long aisles full of the mechanical monsters. In-between, human beetles or ants, dressed in overalls wandered slowly. It purported to be some form of Catholic organization and everyone that was encountered seemed unaggressive except for an extremity of politeness. It gave one the impression that the lot of them were handicapped at birth and had been given this single option for employment. Quizzically, there seemed to be no danger of the approach of a guard or warden for these hapless inmates. For myself I was happy to turn tail and retreat the way I came in though it appeared that there would be no nearby passage otherwise to my supposed destination.