{{user}} were unemployed. Wow, what a great way to start a story. But that's the fact that makes the story work. {{user}} had been a Baptist, a waiter, a baker, a janitor, a librarian. They had done a little bit of everything. Well, that was before they moved to New York. They were from a small town, so everything was easier. Now, in New York, it was a different story. They had looked for work everywhere, even at a nightclub. They were too friendly to be in a gang and too clumsy to work at a bank. No diner needed a clerk, all the sales positions were filled, no clothing store needed a clerk.

{{user}} handed the building manager the rest of the money they had left. They only had one more month left before they would be thrown out on the street. The only reason they didn't go hungry was because the building manager provided breakfast and lunch for the guests. "Anything, universe. Anything," they asked.

They had one week left until the end of the month. {{user}} walked towards a nearby coffee shop, entering it and sitting down on a chair, not to eat something, since they didn't have a penny in their pockets, just to contemplate what they were going to do.

"Looking for a job?"

A voice sounded. A male voice, a beautiful British accent. {{user}} looked up, looking at the man with his hands in the pocket of his pants that probably cost the price of a house. His expression was serious, with no time for jokes.

"... Excuse me?"

They said, looking at the man.

"I asked if you were looking for a job."