Memory (Hard Case Crime) Read Online Free PDF Page B

open the gate in the railing and stepped through; the gate was on springs, and snapped back into place after him. He walked through the desks to the one occupied by the woman, and she said, “Sit down.” When he was seated, she said, “This is your first visit?”
    “Yes. I’m looking for a job.”
    “Of course.” She smiled thinly. “Have you collected unemployment insurance at any time in the last two years?”
    “Yes. But not here, in New York.”
    “I see. And what is your occupation?” She had drawn a sheaf of forms toward herself, and now she picked up a pen.
    “Anything at all,” he said.
    But if she heard him, she made no sign. She said, “I’d better do this from the beginning. Name?”
    “Paul Cole.”
    “C-O-L-E?”
    “Yes.”
    “Social Security number?”
    “I don’t know. Wait.” He got out his wallet, and read his Social Security number to her.
    She said, “You should make a point of learning that. What if you lost your card someday, where would you be then?”
    “I suppose so,” he said.
    “Your address?”
    He started to reach for his wallet again, to give her his New York address, but thought better of it, and said, “Wilson Hotel.”
    “I see. And your last employment?”
    “I was an actor. I was on tour with—”
    “ Actor ?” She put the pen down, and looked at him severely. “I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree,” she told him. “There are no openings for actors in this area, which means that you have removed yourself from the labor force. Moving to a location which has no openings for your type of employment is considered removing yourself from the labor force, and you are therefore unavailable for work, and cannot expect to collect unemployment insurance.”
    “I don’t want to collect unemployment insurance, I want—”
    “I’ll fill out these forms if you insist,” she said, “but I can tell you right now it won’t do any good. You’ll be rejected. You’ll have to demonstrate that you are making an honest and conscientious search for employment of a type to be found in this locality, and in which, by means of training or experience, you can reasonably expect to be considered acceptable by a potential employer.”
    “I want a job. I want—”
    “Protestations are not enough. You will have to bring us definite proof of an active search for employment. A record of job interviews, for instance. In the meantime, there is just no point in my continuing with your application.”
    “Listen,” he said. “Listen to me for a minute.”
    “I’m being frank with you,” she said, and smiled thinly. “I don’t know what your experience with the New York office may have been, but here we expect an honest and industrious job search, or you just can’t expect to collect.”
    “I don’t want to collect. I want a job .”
    “Just saying that isn’t enough. Can’t you understand me? You have to prove that you want a job.”
    “But that’s why I came here. It’s the Division of Employment—”
    “As I told you, there are no openings in this area for actors. Why you came here I have no idea, but you can’t expect to remove yourself from the labor force and then rest easy at the public trough.”
    He didn’t say anything for a minute. He was wondering if he could do any better with this woman if his memory weren’t hurt; but what did his memory have to do with this? They were just talking at cross-purposes, that’s all.
    He said, “I want a job. That’s why I came here. Don’t you have lists of jobs here?”
    “As I’ve told you repeatedly, we have no job openings listed here for actors.” She was getting impatient with him, as though he were trying to do something sneaky and was being insultingly obvious about it.
    He shook his head and got to his feet. He said, “Where do people go when they want to get jobs? Not acting jobs, just jobs.”
    “To the tannery,” she said promptly.
    “The tannery? Is that what makes the