Your name is Erskin Aspera Von Uberwald, and you are very, very von Uberwarld, at the moment. You're slightly von the fair(ly disgusting) city of Ankh-Morpork, as of two weeks today, and the black ribboners who've been kind enough to put you up and ply you with many informative pamphlets have also given you a number of unsubtle hints about money, and how you don't have any (at the moment), and how jobs are this excellent thing that ordinary people do for a living as well as an... un... living, if they don't want to unlive in a relative stranger's attic forever. You adjust your tie, square your (distastefully shabby) jacket, and push into the fourth shop of the day. Yarn and lace, that's nice. Moths could be a real problem in a place like this. "Hallo, sir!" you announce to the nearest gentleman, trying to mind your accent. "Is this your establishment?"