A park bench can be its own little universe.

Michael nods. “Sold vacuums back home.”

It’s not exactly the rĂ©sumĂ© of a New York powerhouse, but the boss likes something about him and hires him anyway. “Start tomorrow. I’ll check on you after closing.” Day one is brutal—New York customers aren’t Montana customers—but Michael soldiers through.

After the store closes, the boss gathers the team. “So, how many customers bought from you today?” he asks Michael.

“Just one,” Michael mutters.

The boss practically explodes. “One?! Everyone else here averages twenty or thirty! This is New York! Get it together!”

The room goes dead silent. The boss softens, guilt creeping up. “All right
 how much was the sale?”

Michael clears his throat. “$124,088.30.”