Outside a warehouse in Nashville, TN where I’m finishing a couple of pieces I’ve made for the hotel project across the street, a young man approaches me asking for help: his car, outfitted for pizza delivery, has a dead battery. He’s parked in the middle of the warehouse parking lot, where workers come and go throughout the day. But it’s close to five now, and most of the cars are already gone as the workday is coming to a close. I tell him I don’t have jumper cables, that the truck I’m driving is a rental, but I’d be happy to ask inside the warehouse. I enter the cavernous building and recognize the bearded man who comes each day at five to close up shop. He drives a full sized pickup truck, and seems like the type who’d be equipped with jumper cables. He’s standing talking to a small group of workers getting ready to end their shift. I pose the question to him, and he tells me he stopped carrying them some time ago, but maybe one of the other workers has a set? A discussion ensues, thick Tennessee accents tackling the question, tossing suggestions back and forth. Eventually a defeated consensus emerges: none of the workers there has a set. But several think J., another worker, might. Has J. already left for the day? Someone thinks he might be across the street in the hotel. The bearded man nods. I walk out of the warehouse with the bearded man, who tells me he’s going to go in search of J. I thank him and head toward my truck, then turn back to watch pizza deliveryman approach the bearded man nervously. They exchange a few words, and the pizza deliveryman nods solemnly and watches the bearded man march off toward the hotel. I get in my truck and leave the parking lot, confident of how the story will end: the bearded man will persist until he finds someone with jumper cables. However long it takes the situation will be remedied and the pizza deliveryman will get the jump and leave the parking lot, which will by that time be completely empty.