“We’re looking for only the best and brightest motivated team players”
he pitched to a crowd of applicants.
He wore his suit sharply and enunciated well.
To most of the twenty somethings in his audience
he was trustworthy and modelish.
A few shaggy-haired listeners wandered
past his lacquered smile to the booth titled “handouts”
picked up their checks and headed for the exit,
the salesman’s momentary sneer throwing ice in their path.
“How audacious their independence”
he thought.
The Bird's Song 