The Cadillac of Bibles:
Max Brodsky reread the ad in the sales section of the Help Wanted column in the Times: Int yg mn, marr, exp not nec, avct, 117 wk, comm & bon, educ serv, Lo-2-3434. He would have preferred it to read sal, instead of comm & bonus; he made a note to call them if he didn’t land the other job listed under Help Wanted. It appealed to him infinitely more: yg mn, sm coll, gd figs, marr, cln cut, 75 sal, gd fut.
Maybe except for the clean-cut part of it, Max felt that he had all of the qualifications. He suffered a tremor of anxiety when the mirror reflected back the paunchy contour of his torso and the unhealthy-looking overlay of jowl which was building up on his lower jaws. He was definitely not clean-cut, he thought bitterly, as he dragged the razor down his cheek.
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