(A Blast from the Past)
By Butch Freedman I needed the job. I’d been out of work for six months, living on unemployment and the occasional sale of one of my silly stories. But pickings were slim, and I liked to eat regularly. So here I was in the reception area for this upscale supermarket chain, one of the healthy, new-agey ones, waiting for a job interview. I told myself to play it straight, and to smile. My ex-wife had told me that I never s…
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