I’ll never forget the stories Grandpa used to tell about working in the steel mill. The labor was hard, but the wizards paid well: two hundred hours a week. He lived to the old age of seventy-four.
Pa griped about his work a lot. He started out in Grandpa’s mill as a laborer, worked up the ladder, and was eventually promoted to foreman. Even then, he only earned one hundred and eighty hours. He passed at sixty-seven.
I got a call from my boss last night. I’m going to need a second job if I want to exist until retirement.
Author’s Note: The concept of wizards selling time enthralled me. I was especially interested in how it would relate to an economic depression