The manageress of the Orion Clothing Redistribution Center didn't want Andy Ash and his photographer to enter the sorting area.
"We are the Press," skinny Jill said.
"Well you can press right out of here, off you go," said the woman.
Andy said his piece, smoothly. "Ma'am we are going but I would point out this could be a heart-warming story and it would include an insert panel saying your facility is in need of high quality male, female and children clothing for all ages. You could get heaps of new donors who could become regular donors."
"I see. Well follow me."
Jill gaped at Andy and he winked.
Mrs Charles was reluctant to be interviewed.
"Ma'am just think of how the publicity of your laudable and unselfish public service will impact on our readers, publicizing the great work of this charitable trust and no doubt such exposure will do no harm at all to your husband's re-election chances."
"Sid was re-elected three months ago."
"Our readers have long memories ma'am."
"Oh very well."
"Excellent. Look Jill needs to get away for a Rotary function. Could she please photograph you with your four colleagues?"
"Yes of course. Come along girls."
Jill organized them and Andy got the names of each woman and how long they'd worked at the sorting hall as they called their area.
When Jill was finished Andy asked her to wait. "Do you have any awful ladies hats stored here?"
"Yes," said Mrs Peters. We have a collection in our lunchroom."
"Well off you go and pick four and Mrs Charles could you pick an elegant hat for contrast because you are the wife of the mayor and the thrust of this story is about your long service at the sorting hall."
"I'll get her favorite from the lunchroom," called Mrs Peters. "We practically have no demand for hats."
The women stood wearing their really dreadful hats except for the wife of the mayor whose hat would grace any modern garden party or outdoor wedding.
"Omigod, omigod," Jill said, shooting away and she then left, highly satisfied.
Jill arrived back in the office and Wendy said, "You are smiling. I gather from that it wasn't a disaster?"
"No anything but and Andy was simply amazing. He lined up the middle-aged women with similar skills as if lining up a babe to shaft. Take a look at this," Jill said, bringing up one of the digital hats photos into the viewing screen of her camera.
"Omigod," Wendy said. "That's a page 3 pic or even lower page 1 on a slow day for graphics."
"Andy came up with the idea and involved the women in such a way they just wanted to do it to please him. God Wendy you'd think he was a senior reporter from the New York Times."
The photo along with Andy's tightly-written story that received very little editing, appeared the bottom fold of page 1 of the broadsheet morning newspaper.
Next day the editor called up Andy for assignments like every other reporter
"You're a credit to the university Andy. Great work yesterday."
Wendy said, "Andy my younger sister is visiting and staying with us for a few days. May I line her up for a date with you?"
"No thanks Wendy. Most of the women I date end up pregnant if aged forty-two or younger.
And so the legend of Andy Ash grew at that newspaper.
Rick called Andy and said he was going fine, two major stories already. The editor had begun to treat him like a hot-shot.
"I'm calling to remind you we've done nothing about accommodation for our return."
"Oh shit, you said you'd do it but I accept some responsibility."
"How big a part?"
"Ow okay, I'm half responsible."
"What I suggest is you find a suitable apartment outside the university but within an easy stroll if you can. We are early and should get quite a good pick. Four beds are supposed to be the right mix for sharing. Any bigger number exacerbates problems incrementally including in-house noise. Try Walton Street. Sign up and pay the deposit and advise Admission of the address stating two sophomore males require two roommates to share. Oh and work in some points to attract applicant and state the cost of quarter share of monthly rental. You and I can pick the best rooms and for that we go 50-50 with the bond payment until we get rebated appropriately by the guys dumb enough to share with us. Have you got all that?"
"Yeah Rick. I get a decent apartment, possibly Walton Street, to sleep four. Sign the contract, pay the bond and advance rentals and get three-quarters of those payments back from the incoming roommates."
"Gee that's succinct. Are you a journalist?"
Andy was living in a very small in a rooming house. As soon as he finished work that day he began searching Walton Street for apartments to rents signs and inspected four premises that were only okay. He then found the perfect place, the bottom floor of a two-level building where the owners, a working couple, lived above the rented space.
The woman showed Andy through and he was delighted but frowned heavily when told the monthly rental.
"We have no wish to buy the lower floor of this property."
The pretty woman flushed and said it was worth a try and asked what he thought would be a fair rental.
He thought of the rentals of the places he had inspected, added fifty bucks and now the woman frowned.
Andy frowned and said, "What's your bottom figure? Now don't lie to me."
She flushed and said he'd have no trouble finding girlfriends.
"Oh but I do although I must confess they usually find me."
"That's what I mean."
Andy grinned and said, "Is your husband the jealous type?" She blushed hugely and asked what had they been discussing?"
"Attempting to establish was your husband the jealous type."
"God see what I mean. You are lethal."
Not knowing what the woman meant, Andy said: What's your bottom figure baby?"