"Every piece of paper I picked up had already been passed by someone higher up ... that's not a real job." I said, "Even the mailroom clerk has a real...job."So ... she made a call and Dalmar came down."Finally," he said. "Run into something you can't figure out?" Nope." I said, "I want a real job ... like mailroom. If I'm going to run this place when you die ... yeah ... you won't live forever ... I need to know how it works. Stamping paperwork that's already been approved by my boss isn't. " What's a garage?"Travis didn't feel like explaining, "When you're done working, go out the back door and come into the small building on the left. I'll be in there." He put his dish in the drying rack and marched out the back door without another word.Travis worked through the morning. His stomach growled informing Travis that lunch time had come or, quite possibly, had already past. He stood up and tried to work the cramps out of his legs. He walked the length of his workshop examining his. More

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