A bar, Alexandria Virginia, May 20, 1974
May. 20th, 2012 05:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
all_the_newsCarl waved his beer at the bartender. "And after driving all the way across the country, they tell me the job is taken. Can you believe it?"
The bartender was silent but nodded sympathetically as he wiped another glass.
"I was practically promised that job. Promised! And he gave it to some cub, just out of journalism school. Who cares if he's the son of the owner? I've been a reporter for over twenty years!"
More sympathy nodding, but this time, the bartender was not really able to hide his eye-rolling. Carl's eyes narrowed and he pointed a finger at the other man. "I saw that!"
"Look, man. I don't blame ya for gettin' mad, but I see a bunch of guys in here with your same story. All I can say, is anyone who gets a job in these times, I don't blame 'em for how they get it."
"That's all fine and dandy," Carl took another swig of his beer. "But now, I'm out of a job. Again. Still. Whatever." Another drink and this time he drained the bottle.
"You got a place to stay, bud?" the bartender sounded actually concerned, but Carl waved it off.
"Yeah. But this city isn't cheap." Luckily he had been in some of the worst hit places for the recent tornado season and had a few pieces out of it. Selling them had netted a few bucks to live on. And to pay tips to bartenders in hopes of getting a lead. He reached for his wallet and pulled out a five, slapping it on the bar before grabbing for his hat. "If you hear of anything," he left it vague, exactly what he was asking for. The money should get him something. "Lemme know."
He was almost to the door when the bartender called out to him. "I don't usually suggest it to people, but... I hear things, you know? And I heard about this place.... a bit cheaper to live if you can put up with the... with the place. And it's small, an island. A boarding school is pretty much the main thing there. You might find somethin'? But at least it's cheap."
Carl tipped his hat at the man and smiled before turning to walk out into the Virginia night. "An island, huh? Who knows, maybe they could use a good investigative journalist like myself." Worth checking out, at least. Not what he was looking for, he didn't like small towns or small town papers, but it was at least a chance at a paying job.
For as long as he could stand it.
[NFI, NFB! and just to rhyme: establishy! He'll be on island soon!]
The bartender was silent but nodded sympathetically as he wiped another glass.
"I was practically promised that job. Promised! And he gave it to some cub, just out of journalism school. Who cares if he's the son of the owner? I've been a reporter for over twenty years!"
More sympathy nodding, but this time, the bartender was not really able to hide his eye-rolling. Carl's eyes narrowed and he pointed a finger at the other man. "I saw that!"
"Look, man. I don't blame ya for gettin' mad, but I see a bunch of guys in here with your same story. All I can say, is anyone who gets a job in these times, I don't blame 'em for how they get it."
"That's all fine and dandy," Carl took another swig of his beer. "But now, I'm out of a job. Again. Still. Whatever." Another drink and this time he drained the bottle.
"You got a place to stay, bud?" the bartender sounded actually concerned, but Carl waved it off.
"Yeah. But this city isn't cheap." Luckily he had been in some of the worst hit places for the recent tornado season and had a few pieces out of it. Selling them had netted a few bucks to live on. And to pay tips to bartenders in hopes of getting a lead. He reached for his wallet and pulled out a five, slapping it on the bar before grabbing for his hat. "If you hear of anything," he left it vague, exactly what he was asking for. The money should get him something. "Lemme know."
He was almost to the door when the bartender called out to him. "I don't usually suggest it to people, but... I hear things, you know? And I heard about this place.... a bit cheaper to live if you can put up with the... with the place. And it's small, an island. A boarding school is pretty much the main thing there. You might find somethin'? But at least it's cheap."
Carl tipped his hat at the man and smiled before turning to walk out into the Virginia night. "An island, huh? Who knows, maybe they could use a good investigative journalist like myself." Worth checking out, at least. Not what he was looking for, he didn't like small towns or small town papers, but it was at least a chance at a paying job.
For as long as he could stand it.
[NFI, NFB! and just to rhyme: establishy! He'll be on island soon!]
