Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
-- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
Slim and Franke
Monday, August 05, 2013
THE SUNDOWN TOO MOTEL
Question Of The Week August 5, 2013
What was the least favorite job you have ever had and why?
I worked as a telephone solicitor in 1965 selling magazine subscriptions. We worked out of a sleazy motel and used fake names. It was embarrassing enough to go there for my job interview but even worse to go to a motel room every day for work. I hated that job and believe I only stayed a week. Can you imagine people asking me where I worked and I had to say "The Sundown Too Motel"? Some people suggested a few of the girls were selling more than magazine subscriptions. I was 19 and very naive.