Brayden was looking for work at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa; maybe a part-time Cabana Boy during Spring Break. the Face of Everyman had read his CV. He seemed over qualified. The regulars would not be back from Mexico until about the end of March. Prospects looked slim for the newcomer. However there might be an opening for Locker room towel boy on the weekend grave shift.
The Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa hosts a speaker’s club. Weekly, after lunch, speeches are given on a topic assigned the previous week. Today no one was prepared. Everybody wanted to tell the Face of Everyman how much the snow had prevented them from getting even one single idea down on paper. The meeting was chaotic. Robert’s Rules of Order didn’t address a Round of Robins.
the Face of Everyman had thoughts of getting out of the catering business at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa. For this Army Buddies reunion he had watered down the drinks and added more junk food to the serving line; but as soon as the brandy and cigars were passed out, the fights began. The venerable sage needed a better plan to prevent next year’s Donnybrook.
It always seemed to be the crack o’ dawn that a new Padre would start services for those at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa who needed spiritual guidance. the Face of Everyman was pleased that nobody showed for this first service. Most songbirds sleep in late on Fridays. The 10 AM service might be a sellout.
Finchley was a recent fledgling with a unique problem. He was orphaned before he had learned the songs he needed to know as an adult. Mortality rates in the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa were especial high for song birds as they were easy prey for raptors. the Face of Everyman dug into his Sea Chest and found his old Roger Tory Peterson vinyl records of North American Bird Calls. He played the Robin songs again and again until at last young Finchley was prepared for his adult role in the community.