It's the 19th Century. You walk into a political caucus. The absence of footprints in the fresh snow has told you that nobody has stepped out for fresh air because it's very cold and nobody wants members to suffer frostbite.
A boss spots your case, rushes over, slaps you on the back, and invites you to the smoke-filled room in back. As he leads you across the floor, others join you. Your reputation has preceded you.
You set up your invention and they stand in a circle gushing praise. They agree that you will be the next President of the United States. They don't shake hands but are definitely relieved to conclude their business.
A boss spots your case, rushes over, slaps you on the back, and invites you to the smoke-filled room in back. As he leads you across the floor, others join you. Your reputation has preceded you.
You set up your invention and they stand in a circle gushing praise. They agree that you will be the next President of the United States. They don't shake hands but are definitely relieved to conclude their business.