It was like a precision machine: efficient, dispassionate, yet filled with a moving warmth.
Jack and his family walked out of the main hall and went to the human resources center next door.
This place was even more bustling than the hall they had just been in.
Job postings scrolled across a massive electronic screen.
"Inland Port Phase II: Welders Urgently Needed, $35/hour!"
"North Shore Machinery Factory: Hiring Lathe Operators, Paid Weekly, Free Lunch!"
"Recovery Team: Hiring Laborers, Paid Daily!"
It was a blue-collar paradise.
An old man in a Union jacket and a baseball cap was standing on a platform, shouting to the crowd.
"Alright, form a line! No pushing!" Frank's booming voice made everyone's ears ring. "There's plenty of work in Pittsburgh! As long as you've got two hands and two feet, nobody's going hungry!"
Jack walked over, ID card in hand.
Frank glanced at the words "Senior Lathe Operator" on the card, and his eyes lit up.
"From Detroit?"
"Yes, sir."
