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NIGH ON TEN YEARS AGO, I had a job in Seattle: I was a tele­mar­keter for the 5th Av­enue The­atre. It was one of two main venues for Broadway-style mu­si­cals, a genre that had left me less than moved my en­tire life. My job en­tailed calling ba­si­cally anyone who had pur­chased a ticket to at least one show with a credit card and tried to sell them a season sub­scrip­tion (there were six shows per season). [Read more] “the origin of neals rants”