Meyer Whitlock was not having a good day.

First, there was not a single job opening in the eighteen stores he'd visited. Not even one. Despite his grandmother's wealth, he knew he would have to find a means of supporting himself or be called lazy by the busybodies of the Upper Class. In truth, this was only half the reason, he also desired employment to take his mind off his confusing sexuality, his parents' death, his loss of hope in his dream... In all, he just wanted a place to sweat and get away from it all. As he walked back to Cedarworth Manor that evening, he whistled softly to himself an old tune his sister once taught him. Hands in his pockets, he fiddled with his coin purse out of boredom and a need to do something with his hands. He hoped Cordelia'd had a good day. She'd been adapting better to this drastic change of life much better than he had.