The Weekday One Hundred

“Have I got a job for you,” said the old man, jabbing his bony finger into my chest.

Archie Potts was a comedy legend and not because he was funny. Didn’t have looks or personality either. But he made up for it all with talent.

The man could manage a comedy club.

Experienced stand-ups everywhere knew they’d get work, respect and, most important of all, get paid. And now after only three weeks in town, I’d be joining their lofty ranks.

Archie handed me an oversized push broom with mangled horsehair bristles. “Start upstairs first, then work your way down…”