buildr

This is the breeze from Old Siesta...

This is where the sea fowlbeasts come to make their home, isn't it?

I...

Grandpa... I found it... after all this time, I've finally...

(Takes a deep breath)

Siesta—I'm back—!

Let's leave all the bad in the past! No more troubles!

It's all good days ahead from here on!

Wh-What?!

That's my resume! Why is it in the trash?

Didn't you say you tried everything, but there just wasn't a suitable opportunity for me?

But nobody even opened my portfolio before it went into the trash with my resume!

Please, calm down, Ann-Maier.

I said I would try, as the Siesta HR Office does for every job applicant.

But I can't help it that no one is interested in working with you.

Why doesn't anyone want to hire me?

You can say it straight. No need to worry about my feelings. It's the only way I'll improve.

Just tell me what I need to work on. I won't disappoint you!

Alright... I'll tell you, but it's not an easy thing to change.

The issue is—

You're too unlucky.

...What?

What do you mean?

You see this mountain of documents? That's the resumes I received today, alone! How am I supposed to read through all that?

And so, what I do is—

The clerk takes a stack out of the pile and throws them into the trash. The pile of papers gets a little thinner.

Y-You didn't even glance them!

I only have so much energy.

But reading resumes is your job!

No, my job is to pick the right talents for prospective employers.

And our most important standard, right now, is whether the applicant can bring good luck to those employers.

Siesta has had enough misfortune these past few years. The last thing that employers want is another accident.

And you just had the bad luck of having your resume thrown in the trash... why would an employer want to hire someone as jinxed as you?

J-Jinxed? This is ridiculous...

I came here full of hope and expectation...

I would have been happy to end up on a tiny engineering team, even an assistant post on an intern's wages.

But you're saying no one wants to hire me because I'm too unlucky?!

Hey, what are you doing? Calm down—

Just you wait! I'll find my own way! I'll show you... I'll find my own projects, form my own team!

Who needs your... your...

Hey! Wait...

Ann-Maier, calm down, don't—

My trash can! You need to pay for that!

I'm not paying for one stinking fowlbeast egg!

Deep breaths... deep breaths...

Just a lazy city hall clerk. That doesn't prove anything.

If Siesta's official channels won't work, I can look for private construction firms.

And if that doesn't work either, I can go knock on some doors up and down the streets.

There are construction projects everywhere in Siesta. There's got to be a place that'll take me... right?

...*sigh*.

Is Siesta really like grandpa said?

Try some local Siestan snacks and turn that frown upside-down!

...What?

My pies are a regular on 'Siesta's Best Eats'!

Best Eats?

Here! First-time customers get one free!

Oh, thanks!

(Bites)

Er...

Her brow furrows slightly.

Wh-What is it? Is it not to your taste?

Oh, no, it's great.

I just didn't expect it to be so... sweet.

I've never had sour orange pies this sweet.

This isn't a sour orange pie. It's a sweet orange pie.

Sweet orange pie?

Just a sour orange pie with more sweet fillings, really.

But it's the sour kind that's Siesta's specialty, isn't it? That's what grandpa always used to make.

He only used oranges that were completely green, without a single hint of yellow.

And certainly no sweet fillings either...

Ooh, now that's the classic, old-timey recipe for the real die-hards.

Was your grandpa Siestan?

Yes.

I'm Siestan too.

I guess you haven't been back in a while.

My family moved to Columbia when I was little.

No wonder why you sound so Columbian.

Hank! One sweet orange pie, please!

Back again, Lut?

Shh, don't tell Harley!

(Whisper) The sweetest kind, please!

Alright, here you go.

Thanks, Hank!

The boy grabs the bag and runs away.

So much honey...

Not just that. That one had a triple serving of condensed milk, and caramel on the bottom.

No wonder it's so sweet. That's not a sour orange pie anymore, is it?

What am I supposed to do about it?

The kids like it sweet, and so do the tourists. Sour orange pies have to change too, if I want to sell them.

It's not your granddaddy's Siesta anymore...

I guess you're right.

This place is very different from the Siesta that Grandpa used to talk about.

Some things stay the same.

Siestans have accepted new tastes, but sometimes we long for the tastes of the past too.

Hey, if it isn't the up-and-coming star of city hall.

Didn't think you'd have time for my humble little stall.

Just passing by... I'll have one sour orange pie, please, Hank.

Spare me the formalities. It didn't use to be a thing back in our Old Siesta days.

(This man is from city hall too...)

I'm glad we can still get along like the old days, now that all the old shops on Fashion Street are completely unrecognizable.