new to the neighborhood

At work, we were gathered at a meet-and-greet for a new employee, let’s say Archie. I was talking with Jughead, Moose, Betty, and Veronica. (The real names of Moose, Betty, and Veronica are pretty exotic. I’m too lazy to come up with convincing, foreign-sounding names.) Jughead was pointing out that Archie had lived his entire life in another country and now had to start fresh in the US.

“Can you imagine how hard it must be? No one knows you. Other companies have never heard of you. You won’t have any credit to buy a house or a car?”

I wasn’t too concerned. I was pretty sure that Jughead and I would consider Archie’s salary to be stratospheric. Also…

“I don’t really need to imagine it. I remember it from when I moved to the States. And from when I moved to Canada.” (I glossed over the fact that I was 10 when I went to Canada)

“In fact, Betty’s done it, too. And Veronica. Moose! Moose isn’t from around here either.”

“Jughead, you’re the only one of us who hasn’t started over in a new country.”

“Canada’s nice. You can try that.”

Jughead demurred.

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