The No Hellos Diet

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It’s the end of summer in Uptown, Chicago.

You start working in the stockroom of a major department store.

The store hasn’t opened to the public yet.

When you go for orientation, there’s already a bullethole in the front window.

As you walk into the store, a manager and a custodian stand there looking at the bullethole.

The manager says, “Just — that can’t be there for too long.”

The store is one of only fourteen stores — out of 2000 in the country — to be labeled “Ultra-high risk.”

That’s what the security guard tells you in the office area, while you wait with a group of people for your appointment time.

“Yeah man,” he says, talking to you (the only one looking at him), “Since we’re right by fucking Blood Alley, we’ll get all kinds of assholes in here. Fucking Uptown. Just wait.”

Blood Alley is two blocks of alley in the area.

Where there are prostitutes, drugs, and violence.

You nod at the security guard.

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