 But as hard as he would try to remain unaffected, the fish smell was still in the gear. It made his already sensitive stomach even more queasy. Until one day, Giuseppe quit. Went out and odd-jobbed wherever he could. Nothing serious. Errand boy, newspaper boy. Sometimes he'd pull down a dollar a day. But it wasn't pocket money. It was table money. Every cent Giuseppe earned was turned over to the household for food and clothing. You'd think Papa'd be proud of his son, but Papa...