I was wrapping up my business at Hennessy's barcounter, just after
talking with my bartender, who had worked as a surveyor until builders
stopped building. She was another victim of the recession until the
Hennessy's concern retained her to survey their newly purchased
commercial space. The house liked her so much, she stayed on to open
the store and bartend. I looked at the level of water in my pint and
what do you know, it was perfectly level. I guess she won't be
spilling any Guinness. I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder and turned, finding myself face
to face with a brown eyed man with an unbelievable mane of hair,
colored sandy gray, if that's possible. He was very polite, shaking my
hand and asking if he had met me before. I reminded him of a fellow
who worked at the Muskegon Chronicle and wished I had asked which
reporter. I had been typing furiously on my cellie keyboard, so it's
possible I looked as if I were filing my story. He wanted to know, then, who I did work for, and asked after the
solidity of the business. I work for one of the publicly traded
companies still left in Muskegon, and I have total visibility into the
books. So I made a few general comments on the business plan in
Muskegon. But I know more. Smoothly, he asked after the stock price
and I had just looked it up online, so I could report the price. In
fact, I have a chunk of my fortune in this stock. So he asks me for
some forecast and should he buy it. To which I answered, "talk to your
stock broker". I know enough to need annual insider trading seminars.
Honestly, I was enjoying being pumped for information, and my curtness
cut off the conversation. I should have leaned in close and gave him a
little ambiguous hint and slapped him on his back lightly. I've seen these fellows before in the lounge of Tony's before it
closed. The bartender gave them the special treatment; she might have
been the most stunning Greek American woman in my experience, and that
included plenty of meals in Detroit's Greektown.
talking with my bartender, who had worked as a surveyor until builders
stopped building. She was another victim of the recession until the
Hennessy's concern retained her to survey their newly purchased
commercial space. The house liked her so much, she stayed on to open
the store and bartend. I looked at the level of water in my pint and
what do you know, it was perfectly level. I guess she won't be
spilling any Guinness. I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder and turned, finding myself face
to face with a brown eyed man with an unbelievable mane of hair,
colored sandy gray, if that's possible. He was very polite, shaking my
hand and asking if he had met me before. I reminded him of a fellow
who worked at the Muskegon Chronicle and wished I had asked which
reporter. I had been typing furiously on my cellie keyboard, so it's
possible I looked as if I were filing my story. He wanted to know, then, who I did work for, and asked after the
solidity of the business. I work for one of the publicly traded
companies still left in Muskegon, and I have total visibility into the
books. So I made a few general comments on the business plan in
Muskegon. But I know more. Smoothly, he asked after the stock price
and I had just looked it up online, so I could report the price. In
fact, I have a chunk of my fortune in this stock. So he asks me for
some forecast and should he buy it. To which I answered, "talk to your
stock broker". I know enough to need annual insider trading seminars.
Honestly, I was enjoying being pumped for information, and my curtness
cut off the conversation. I should have leaned in close and gave him a
little ambiguous hint and slapped him on his back lightly. I've seen these fellows before in the lounge of Tony's before it
closed. The bartender gave them the special treatment; she might have
been the most stunning Greek American woman in my experience, and that
included plenty of meals in Detroit's Greektown.
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