Somethng interesting: About twenty years ago, I got myself into a financial mess and I had to work two jobs to get me out of it. I even wrote a novel about how I got into that mess called The Lot I published under a pen name Ben Pierce. That second job was working at JC Penny as a telemarketer though I didn’t call anyone, they called me to order merchandise from their catalog. My spiel went like this: “JC Penny Catalog: My name is Sam and can I have the catalog number of your first item please?” I worked eight hours a night plus my day job and I did that for four years and somehow, and don’t ask me how, I even wrote that novel. But the four years of doing that got me out of my mess I dug for myself and I’m doing just great now. But that isn’t what I want to talk about: One night when I was working, I took a catalog order as usual and the person I was talking to said to me: “You are from Rochester, aren’t you? I can tell by your accent and the way you talk.” Now, I never thought I had an accent or talked in any unusual way. I thought I spoke in a manner that was devoid on any peculiarities and everyone else spoke either to the right of me leaning toward New York or Boston or to the left of me from somewhere down south or the Midwest. But this guy picked me out as being exactly from where I was from! Rochester! I represent Rochester in the way we talk! I remember proving to him that he got it right telling him I lived near Dewey Avenue and went to Marshall. He didn’t seem surprised at all that he had gotten it right. To him, there was no doubt I was from Rochester, though to this day I still don’t know what was so distinctive in the way I talk that he could tell I was from Rochester.