Violet Gets a Job

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I fly off to New York City.
I get in a cab and ask the cab driver to take me to Carnegie Hall. He doesn't understand as he speaks not good English, so I yell at him, thinking that if you yell at someone who doesn't understand you loud enough that they will understand.

Take me to the Symphony, the Symphony, the Symphony !

Ah, he says- sinfony, and heads off into the cacophony of New York City traffic.
He drops me off in front of Symphonyspace at the corner of 95th and Broadway.
This is not Carnegie Hall, but I am here, so I may as well run in and see what's happening.
As I run in I crash into Isaiah Sheffer, but since he is much bigger that I am, he isn't hurt and he bends down and picks me up.
We talk for a while about my problem.
He says that a good story teller, like a good salesperson, could sell refrigerators to polar bears, a bad salesperson would have trouble selling water to someone in the desert.

A light bulb in my head turns on and I have a great idea. I thank him, compliment him on his selection of shorts and go off to find another cab back to the airport.



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