400 Words


About 400 Words

400 Words is a storytelling project. It is a print magazine and a website, consisting of true stories, none over 400 words, by ordinary people on assigned themes. It's about the documentation of everyday life, saying a lot by saying a little. You can learn more, or order a copy, or tell a story of your own.

Print Issues

400_cover.jpg

Issue 2, Compulsions:
What can you not not do?

400_cover.jpg


Issue 1, Autobiographies:
Tell the whole story of your life in 400 words or less.

Search

Looking for something? Check the archives or search us.

Subscribe

  Sign up for the RSS feed.

For Further Enjoyment

52 Projects
Evil Twin Publications
Found Magazine
Guilt & Pleasure Magazine
Learning to Love You More
The Lost Love Project
Microcosm Publishing
Opium Magazine
Peter Arkle
The Public Journal
Quimby's
Smith
StoryCorps
UpRightDown

At

by Charlie—Age 44—Oxford, PA

“Daddy works in the bedroom and mommy helps him,” my son volunteered to Mrs. Rohrer, his kindergarten teacher. “I’m sure there’s a good explanation,” she assured us while anticipating a faculty lounge home run.

No amount of office equipment could fool a kindergartner’s sharp eye for flowered wallpaper and glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling.

“I work with racehorses,” I rationalized. Economic forecasting in Philadelphia led to, among other things, filming Thoroughbreds in warm winter climates, digitizing the data, analyzing their motion and hoping to spot another Secretariat. Racing is statistics-rich, and, as an economist, I found myself working from a spare bedroom for equine research firms, betting companies and horse owners.

“You’re a gambler?” Ms. Martin, another teacher, asked. “Chase said you lost $100 and he won $10 on a race at Saratoga.” The shame of it, losing in my field of expertise to a first grader with a Dick Francis vocabulary. “Behrens lost by a nose and I boxed the exacta,” Chase offered in my defense.

Once, I invited a client home, which he described as “very green.” I’m color-blind and hadn’t noticed the Clockwork Orange décor. Danielle, my three-year-old daughter, entertained him with opera-worthy neighs. He gripped the arm of his chair as if to hold on to reality and as though it might start moving.

A mining executive described to me the worst response he’d heard from applicants asked to describe their ideal job. The offending candidate said he would arrive at work before everyone else. Co-workers would slide mathematical problems under his door. He would solve them on a blackboard, slide the answers out and leave last. I didn’t see the problem. My interview at Townsend-Greenspan ended similarly and involved an IQ test asking which of the nested boxes I would most like to be. Who gets that wrong?

I work from home, pretty much as the mining executive described and Mr. Greenspan predicted alongside 1986 car sales. Clients, some of whom I have never seen, forward statistical questions and I reply via e-mail. When people ask where I work, I tell them I work in racing.


No Comments Yet


There are no comments yet. You could be the first!

Leave a Comment